Hold Me in the Water Off-Broadway Reviews

Directed by Danny Sharron, “Hold Me in the Water” is as seamlessly, thoughtfully inclusive as “Dark Disabled Stories” was. At the top of the new show, after Haddad’s dramatic entrance on a lift through the stage floor, and his ebullient greeting — “Hello, darlings!” — Haddad gives visual descriptions of the set (by dots, the design collective) and himself (costumed by Beth Goldenberg). He notes the projected supertitles, the dimmed but not extinguished house lights, the audience’s freedom to pop in and out. (“I’m begging you,” he says, “if you need to go to the bathroom, go!”)

Ryan J. Haddad is completely vulnerable, funny, candid, vivid, sensitive, and graphic about his first sexual encounter in his one-man show “Hold Me In The Water,” playing at Playwrights Horizons in The Judy Theater on W 42nd Street. He will touch your heart and soul as he performs this piece that he has also written, where he bears his insecurities, his disability, his joys, and his disappointments.

Hold Me in the Water showcases Haddad’s talents in ways that show off his wit and personality. He’s a real catch, and I hope he finds his true love someday. It’s also a rather slight story about an all-too-brief romance. I also hope that in his future work he again finds ways to look beyond his heartbreak and even his own experience.

Haddad commands the stage in this solo show, fully holding his own. He’s flirty and fun, and he shares deep insecurities about opening himself up to a romantic partner. The writer/performer is no stranger to vulnerability. In his previous solo shows, including Dark Disabled Stories; Hi, Are You Single?; and Falling For Make Believe, Haddad chronicles his experiences navigating life — and love — in a city that isn’t always built with disabled people in mind.

Hold Me in the Water is romantic, touching and funny, and as the commitment-level conflicts in the relationship arise, we feel genuine concern. Near the end, Haddad poses to the audience some questions that, in their pointedness and provocativeness, amount to something of a coup de théâtre. Essentially, in many permutations, he asks: Could you love a disabled person? And for many the answer will be, yes, I could, if they were as cute and charming as Ryan J. Haddad. That's admittedly a tall order.

he has been promoting “Hold Me in the Water” as a “poignant romantic comedy.” On its face, a romantic comedy is challenging to achieve with just one performer on stage, and Haddad doesn’t even seem interested in giving his crush anything resembling an independent identity. The man is not even given a name, nor any other specific details that would make him something besides just the object of Ryan’s desire. Perhaps the playwright is trying to protect the real man’s privacy. But the one-sided account makes the romance feel shallow at best and Ryan less than self-aware. “How much did Ryan get to know the actual person?” I wondered — way before Ryan recounts the man telling him “you don’t even really know me.”

We feel like we’re right there with Haddad as he recalls the early goosebump stages of the relationship—the handholding, the flirting, the overanalysis of texts, the visions of “wedding photos, printed in The New York Times Style section” dancing in his head. Where Hold Me goes—and where they end up—we won’t share. But Haddad leaves us with a few thoughtful questions: “Have you ever dated a disabled person?” (He hasn’t, he admits. “Yet. That I know of.”) “Have you ever…even entertained the idea that romance might be possible for you and them?” He’s not judging; he’s just asking questions that, truthfully, no one has ever really asked.

If Ryan J. Haddad‘s script for “Hold Me In The Water” were any more spare it would disappear. As a mater of fact, this enchanting piece already does that. This is a master class in turning story into magic. A sense of precision runs through this production from the tipity-top where Haddad emerges from out of nowhere to the final graceful denouement where he returns whence he came. In between, Haddad holds us in the palm of his hand. He is a gentle guide, beginning with his description of a a “Relaxed Performance.” That means a few things. The house lights are dim but not fully out. Please feel free to come and go as you need, you will always be allowed re-entry.