Stage Review - Hungry (Sound Theatre Company)

Stage Review - Hungry
Presented By: Sound Theatre Company - Seattle, WA
Show Run: April 24 - May 17, 2025
Date Reviewed: Saturday, April 26, 2025 (Opening Night)
Run Time: 90 Minutes (no intermission)
Reviewed By: Greg Heilman

Sometimes the best stories are the ones told without a lot of flash, glitz, or glamor. At the end of the day, it is the story, after all, that is at the heart of what we come to see when we attend a performance at a theatre, everything else is just layers of icing on the cake. Hungry, Chris Bush’s 2021 play about the relationship between two women from immensely different backgrounds, who find themselves working at the same restaurant, is that sort of play. Uniquely constructed, it takes the pair through two interwoven timelines, identified in the script simply as “Then” and “Now”. “Then” represents the meeting of Bex, a waitress, black and from a working class family, and Lori, a chef, white, and from a more affluent upbringing, or at least that’s what she presents, while “Now” takes place, well, now, in the present, as the pair, further along in their relationship are setting up for a gathering, the funeral for Bex’s mother, who recently passed away as a result of complications from diabetes. The play is the latest in a run of show’s that Sound Theatre Company has put up that deal with “othering”, the attitudes of one person, or group, toward another, different, person or group. Last season’s 53% Of dealt with race, economic and social status and political philosophy, and Hungry is the perfect follow-up, a play that tackles class and social attitudes, while also dealing indirectly with the idea of wokeness that is so prevalent in our discourse these days. It makes sense that this was originally planned to be staged last season, but honestly, it’s better late than never. But to my original point, the play itself is strong, it’s wonderfully written, and its messaging clear, but not altogether preachy, and that messaging is wrapped in a nicely presented human relationship between two women, one with the best intentions but not realizing how those intentions affect the psyche of the other, and the other just trying to be comfortable in her own skin. And when you take a story like this, and present it with a solid scenic design, and a pair of actors that give the entirety of themselves to these characters, the result is a play that is emotional, thought-provoking, and timely.

The play starts out “Then”, Bex’s first day on the job, which, it follows, is the first day she meets chef Lori. The signs are there early, from this first meeting, when, after the restaurant closes and Lori quizzes the new employee on what she has brought to eat, the chef tells her that it’s not good enough, not for this restaurant, and proceeds to prepare something just for Bex. There’s clearly an attraction straight away, and as much as Bex nervously accepts Lori’s offering, Lori, too, is nervous at how Bex will like what she’s prepared. Despite this common nervous attraction, it’s that underlying “it’s not good enough” that is at the heart of what Chris Bush weaves through the story. When the timeline shifts to “Now”, and Bex is setting up for the reception after her mother’s funeral, she’s put out all of her mother’s favorite food, none of it entirely healthy, but that’s not what this celebration of life is about, though Lori doesn’t seem to understand, as she arrives carrying sandwiches for, as she puts it, a healthy alternative, for some variety. There’s a lot that I’ll leave out here as far as where their relationship is at that point, they still have one, I will say that, but this is just another example of Lori trying to make Bex “better”, something that’s been there since that first night, whether it’s at the funeral and Lori’s judgment about Bex’s mother’s favorite foods, or Lori’s attempts to make Bex “better” through locally sourced, organic, healthy, and sustainable food, all of this becomes irksome to Bex, and it becomes the stake that is driving a wedge between them. Bex puts it best when she asks Lori if she loves her for her or for the project she’s trying to make her become. I’m paraphrasing there, but it’s this conflict of philosophies, Lori asking why trying to be better is a bad thing, and Bex responding with “You can’t tell me that you can make me better without telling me that I’m s*** now”, that needs to be addressed for the couple to move forward in their relationship. What I like about this philosophical dialogue is how it applies to what we all go through at one point or another. We all get caught in the trap of thinking that just because something is more expensive, or it’s marketed a certain way, the implication being that the alternative, what we’re using or eating, is worse, thus making us feel lesser for it. And who are the ones responsible for deciding what’s better or what’s worse? And when we’re not eating organic, or when we’re not driving the right car, and we’re being told to “be better”, if we can’t, perhaps we can’t afford what’s “better”, well that feeling of inadequacy just perpetuates the problem, and that’s what Chris Bush presents here, giving Bex the choice to learn how to be comfortable with herself, or to fall deeper into a cycle of despair. Of course, it isn’t as simple as making a choice, it’s a lot more difficult than that. And I say it aligns with “wokeism” because I see this, not only with the physical, the food in the case of Lori and Bex, or with the example of a car, but it’s also done in the way we think, that we could be better people if we just thought a different way, a certain way, and when we don’t think that way, it makes us doubt our authentic selves.

To make this happen, though, and really drive this messaging home, it does take a pair of actors on the top of their games. And with Simone Alene as Bex and Jayne Hubbard as Lori, director Vincent J Orduña has cast two actors that deliver this piece so well. The play is tricky in what it asks of the actors, specifically in how it requires each of these two to toggle back and forth between “Then” and “Now”, which means that need to be agile emotionally. Think about how you feel at the beginning of a relationship, that nervousness, it’s Iike a giddiness, giggling at every little thing, watching what you say, being flirty, and maybe even a little forward physically, and then think about how you might feel at a funeral for your mother, during a tense time with your partner where you’re trying to make heads and tails, not just of your relationship, but of your life. That’s what Simone and Jayne are asked to switch between, and basically on a dime, between the highest high and the lowest low, and especially going from an emotional challenging “Now” to a lighthearted “Then”, it has to be even more difficult, but these two don’t miss a beat, and they don’t hold back with any of their emotions, which there could definitely be a tendency to do, lighten up the dark if you have to be giddy in the next scene, or tamper down the happy if you have to hit the doldrums right after, but there’s none of that here, this pair puts everything out there. For the majority of the play, the dialogue is even handed, between the two, as they build their relationship, and at the beginning, they are both just as flirty with each other, but in different ways, ways that are consistent with the portrayal of their place in the socioeconomic hierarchy. Jayne’s Lori is more reserved, more flirtatious with her words and with more subtle movements, while Simone as Bex is more straightforward, especially physically. In fact, there’s a bit of an explicit sexiness that Simone brings to her Bex, one that brought a fair share of hoots and hollers from the opening night audience, and another example of how each of these actors hold nothing back here. The play continues to move back and forth in time between “Now” and “Then”, the specific times in the past vary, more for the context of the storytelling than in the interest of chronology, all of it culminating in a scene that is so beautifully written and so wonderfully performed that it drives home the messaging of the play in the most poignant, stirring, and emotionally charged way possible. This really is a breakout performance for Simone, she is so good in the delivery of this final monologue about how it’s the system, not the people, that needs to be “fixed”, and how systematic class warfare is at the heart of the conflict between Bex and Lori and what so many more of us find ourselves going through. And it’s not just Bex’s delivery, it wouldn’t have the same impact without the manner in which Jayne sits in the background, and the way she watches Simone deliver this, still and clearly troubled. This monologue is one of those moments in a play when everything comes together at one point, the story, the acting and its emotion, and all of the design elements, lifting a production to a higher level of quality than it would naturally have had otherwise.

The whole thing is quite simple, a good story, two exceptional actors, and a design that isn’t altogether complicated. What is it I said, sometimes the best stories are the ones told without a lot of flash? That’s exactly the case here, and Vincent’s vision for this wonderful play places the focus first on the story and second on the presentation of it from his cast. The simplicity of the design is part of the beauty of the piece, Robin Macartney’s set is sparingly appointed, a kitchen prep table in the “Then” that doubles as a table at Bex’s mother’s funeral in the “Now” that holds the steam trays with the comfort food her mother would have wanted her to bring to the event, a table and chairs down stage right where a crucial dinner date takes place, and a couch down stage left where the actors do a little more than just relax. Digital screens, one on each side of the stage, provide a little more context to the locations where various scenes are taking place, Jared Norman’s projections do a nice job in this. The starkness of the design follows into Doris Black’s costume design as well, each of the actors dressed largely in blacks with beige accents, and Richard Schaefer’s lighting feels minimal but effective. Even the sound design, from Ingrid Bell, feels a bit meager, in a good way, but the impact her underscore has during Simone’s monologue at the end of the play, helps make it feel big.

Hungry, from playwright Chris Bush, presented by Sound Theatre Company, and on stage at the Centre Theatre at the Seattle Armory, is a bit of a paradox. On the surface it’s simple, two actors, a generally minimalist scenic design, and a story about the arc of a relationship. But that perceived simplicity belies so much more that resides below that surface. Hungry is a uniquely constructed story, taking the characters, and the audience, back and forth from the present to the past, portraying a relationship amid the challenges of socioeconomic and class judgment, and at the same time interrogating a system that perpetuates the exact problem that it purports to solve. Directed by Vincent J. Orduña, and featuring performances from Simone Alene and Jayne Hubbard that elevate what is already a magnificently written story, Hungry is an emotional, important, and timely show that should not be missed.

Hungry, from playwright Chris Bush and produced by Sound Theatre Company, runs on stage at the Center Theatre at the Seattle Center Armory through May 17. For more information, including ticket availability and sales, visit https://soundtheatrecompany.org/.

Photo credit: Nikeesha Gooding