EdFringe Review: THIS IS NOT ABOUT ME.

“THIS IS NOT ABOUT ME.” The title comes with a grin and a warning. Written by Hannah Caplan and directed by Douglas Clarke-Wood, the piece stages a battle over ownership, friendship and the right to be heard.

At its centre is Grace, an artist determined to put her life on stage, whilst Eli, the long-time friend, is pulled far deeper into her performance than he’d like. What begins as collaboration twists into a tug-of-war: Grace shaping the narrative to suit herself, Eli resisting but never quite escaping her pull.

Caplan’s script is sly and restless. It flips between autobiography, invention and meta-theatrical commentary, refusing to settle into a single register. The effect is disorienting but deliberate, underscoring the idea that every claim to truth is, ultimately, a kind of theatre.

Clarke-Wood not only directs but also plays the role of Eli. His performance is warm, understated and full of patience that gradually frays at the edges. Opposite him, Avaia Naima Aguinaga is magnetic as Grace – charismatic, infuriating, often very funny, and never softened just to increase their appeal. Their dynamic becomes the engine of the piece: one voice pushing to dominate, the other enthusiastic at times, but ultimately holding its ground. You might call THIS IS NOT ABOUT ME a subversive rom-com!

The staging matches the script’s layered style. Performed in traverse, it draws the audience, quite literally, into the push and pull of the relationship. Crochet webs criss-cross the space, puppets appear and vanish, projections blur memory with dream. The design feels hand-made yet precise, nodding to the story being woven before us.

“Caplan’s script is sly and restless. It flips between autobiography, invention and meta-theatrical commentary, refusing to settle into a single register.“

There are moments of both easy and sharper-edged humour. Vignettes plucked from happier times together are carried off with an abundant sense of fun, whilst one subtitled love scene is the stuff of rom-com excellence.

As the play develops, however, Grace’s gradually revealed narcissism is skewered as much as it is indulged, and Eli’s deadpan reactions cut through her certainty. Caplan’s writing knows when to let the silence sting, when to let awkwardness say more than dialogue can. At its best, it is both piercingly funny and quietly brutal.

If the play falters at all, it is in balance. Grace’s voice dominates to such an extent that Eli sometimes disappears into the margins. The text acknowledges this tension but doesn’t always give him the space to fight back. The risk is that a two-hander tips towards being a one-woman show with commentary. Of course, if we’re already inside Grace’s story, then Eli really only exists as a means to an end.

Either way, the performances and direction carry it. Aguinaga finds charisma in selfishness, Clarke-Wood anchors the piece with charming restraint, and together they create a relationship that feels lived-in, messy and true. This, in turn, makes the exploitation at the centre of their story all the more challenging.