Obehi Janice brings ‘Nova’ to the Royal Lyceum this August, a monologue, part stand-up, but mostly storytelling. That tale belongs to Nova, a Nigerian-American comedian, her story revolving around desire, sex, and power.
Janice is a tremendous stage presence, poised, present, and possessed of singularly rich, velvet voice. Truly, she could read the telephone directory and make it interesting. She commands attention, never rushed, always the captain of the narrative, and never its hostage.
Janice’s writing is wonderfully personal, but tightly constructed, a memoir of Nova’s conquests since a young age, a proud champion of her visceral appetites. There’s a wonderfully earthy, and personal humour throughout, fleshing out this no-prisoners operative with a big heart. From schoolyard crushes, and all their capricious changes of attention, through the loss of virginity to a trusted friend at the age of 30, it’s a full, and fully exposed life.
A bright mind leads her into a historical exploration of great lovers, and all roads there lead to Giacomo Casanova, by way of David Tennant, and Heath Ledger. At first he is a model to follow, an unbridled satisfier of every sexual urge, and a proud chronicler, in 12 volumes, of his adventures. However, as Nova’s own story continues, pride turns to something more nuanced, and shaded by the caprices, and cruelties of many – though not all – of her male partners.
Janice never falls into the trap of only telling the story, she moves around the stage with purpose, prone to breaking into dance, and karaoke. Her sexual partners are described with care, each characterised swiftly as much by action as words. Plus there’s always that voice, a singularly hypnotic instrument, and made for stories told by fireside.
In her adherence to a loving, caring philosophy, Janice follow Nova as she diverges from Casanova, and towards her own ideology. For where the ‘great lover’ had few scruples and little time for consent, Nova has experienced the attentions of his like, and finds them wanting. The play leans into her developing ideas to find it’s conclusion.
In some senses there isn’t much substant to Nova, after all the ‘conquest bore’ has never been an ideal conversation partner for the sober (nor the drunk, truth be told). On paper, as a text, Nova could feel one-track, and lacking in development, but in Obehi Janice’s hands it becomes something a little special, because she owns it utterly. Watching someone create so fully realised a character is fascinating in itself, the lines between actor and character blurring completely.
The finale might be more clever than satisfying, and maybe the play promises more revelation than it delivers, but it’s still a wonderful and memorable experience.
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