There’s something undeniably charming about a play that turns the act of solving a crossword puzzle into a narrative device. Hub City Theatre Company’s The Crossword Play isn’t just a performance—it’s a meta-commentary on how our obsessions, whether with puzzles or life’s larger mysteries, shape who we are. What makes this particularly fascinating is how it uses a seemingly mundane activity to explore the emotional turbulence of passion. I’ve always believed that art thrives in the spaces where logic and chaos collide, and this production does that with a wink and a tear. It’s not just about clues and answers; it’s about the messy, beautiful process of trying to make sense of ourselves.
Let’s talk about the one-woman format. In an era where theater often leans into spectacle, this choice feels almost radical. A single performer carrying the weight of a story—how does that work? Well, it’s a masterclass in vulnerability. The actor becomes both the puzzle creator and the solver, weaving personal drama into the grid of the narrative. I can’t help but think about how this mirrors modern life: we’re all juggling multiple roles, trying to fit our lives into neat categories. But here, the chaos is embraced, not sanitized. It’s a reminder that art doesn’t need to be polished to be powerful.
And then there’s the setting: a coffee shop. Hub City Theatre Company isn’t just staging a play—they’re redefining where theater can happen. Turntable Coffee Counter isn’t just a venue; it’s a statement. In a world where cultural experiences are increasingly commodified, offering a free cup of coffee with a ticket feels like a small rebellion. It’s a gesture that says, ‘This is for you, not just the elite.’ I’ve seen too many shows that require you to dress up, arrive early, and leave your soul at the door. This one invites you to stay in your pajamas and sip on a latte while unraveling a story. It’s a subtle but profound democratization of art.
Kelly Maust’s quote about not needing to travel to Memphis or Nashville to see something meaningful hits a nerve. There’s a growing conversation about the ‘cultural deserts’ in smaller towns, but here’s a counterexample: Jackson isn’t just surviving—it’s thriving. Local theaters like Hub City are proving that creativity doesn’t require a big city’s resources. What this really suggests is that the future of theater might be decentralized, rooted in community rather than commercialism. I wonder if this model could inspire other towns to rethink their cultural offerings. Why wait for the next big tour when you can create your own magic?
The play’s focus on how passions cloud judgment is a universal theme, but it’s especially resonant now. In an age of instant gratification and curated online personas, we’re all grappling with the tension between our hobbies and our identities. Is solving crosswords just a hobby, or is it a way to define ourselves? The play doesn’t answer that—it invites the audience to wrestle with it. That’s the beauty of good theater: it doesn’t hand you the solution; it gives you the tools to find your own. And isn’t that what life is, in the end? A series of puzzles we’re still learning to solve?
