“That warm fuzzy feeling”: ملعقة (mil-aa-qa)

The Blue Room Theatre has been turning up the heat lately. Every year there is usually one show that gets me really excited, and this year it was ملعقة (Mil-aa-qa). The synopsis said Lebanese and gluten free and something about cooking, and that’s all it took. This being theatre, I was ready for anything. And this show was a perfect example of what makes theatre different to other forms of storytelling.

 

Walking into the Theatre space at the Bluey, as we took our seats we found ourselves becoming the live studio audience of a cooking show. It’s that multi-layered reality where you’re watching a show of a show being made which immediately does ticklish things to your brain. I’m sure someone somewhere has done some imaging on this phenomenon, because it’s such a distinctive feeling. It pulls you into this trance where you almost feel like you’re in a human zoo.

 

Against a kitschy backdrop of a kitchen, each piece is lovingly crammed into the space like the knick knacks in your grandmother’s home. Like all good meals, it starts with garlic, and definitely no oppressive measurements. Then the onion, and as it’s cooking my senses are coming alive and bringing that immediacy that only theatre can. As our Lebanese Aunty host (played by June Soussan) tells anecdotes about auto-immune disease and home cooking, it’s hard to tell if that warm fuzzy feeling is from the heat on the stove, her warm and loving presence, the audience’s laughter or a combination of all three. 

 

Sharing a meal is something almost anyone can relate to. And there are few things that are as special. Which makes this show impossible to not love. It explores themes of belonging and change and cultures that eat with a spoon (IYKYK). With a cameraman (played by Alleyne Isaac Aviles) by her side working on her every demand, it’s amazing how so much character and chemistry between actors can be conveyed with absolutely no dialogue from one side. 

 

A poignant moment that stuck with me was when the cooking show played a pre-recorded clip of Aunty’s husband. The actor in a fake moustache and a hat had the audience cackling as he’s asked to read a packet of biccies and tell the interviewer if it has gluten. His lack of awareness of his wife’s autoimmune condition was all too relatable. While this recording played and everyone laughed, the Aunty sat in the dark corner off camera with a heaviness that somehow didn’t take up space. As women are conditioned to do.