AUDIENCE REVIEW: “More than Enough”
Company:
Emanuele Fiore
Performance Date:
October 23, 2026
Freeform Review:
“More than Enough” by Emanuele Fiore
Date of performance: October 23, 2026 at the Emerging Artists Theatre
As part of the Spark Theatre Festival presented by Emerging Artists Theatre
Choreography, Direction, Spoken Word: Emanuele Fiore
Music by Patrick O’Hearn, LemonTech, Alex Dav & Tom, Eydis Evenson & Olafur Arnalds
Review by Kristen Hedberg
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Emanuele Fiore’s self-choreographed solo “More than Enough” brought a particular rawness and poignancy to the October 2026 Spark Theatre Festival.
Fiore shared with me that “More than Enough” details “the journey of rediscovering [yourself], and research of identity, despite [how] the world wants to define you. The choreography is based on [his personal journey] and explores the stages of [his] fight against insecurities, fears and judgment from [himself] and others.”
Doused in cobalt lighting, Fiore kneels facing upstage, wearing long brown pants and a white tank top. He undulates his torso through deep backbands and carving contractions, and his body ripples sharply against Patrick O’Hearn’s peaceful piano score “Courage.” As Fiore rolls onto his back, his feet reaching skyward, he clutches a black fabric with immense care.
Rolling onto his stomach, Fiore unravels the fabric and lays it softly on the floor. His delicate hand gestures evoke a sense of longing, reaching, or trying to understand something. But suddenly, in contrast, his hand gestures create a feeling of captivity or being trapped, as he sharply transitions to his knees, binding his hands behind his back. He clutches his wrists tightly.
Collecting the fabric, Fiore stands for the first time in the work, and embodies smooth, sweeping technical movements with pointed feet and dynamic tosses of the leg. His torso arcs in umbrella-like overcurves, and he carries the fabric over his eyes. He offers a pained expression, capturing the heaviness of O’Hearn’s music. Whirling around the space in rapid turns, he opens his mouth in abandon, and the fabric flies.
A percussive beat by LemonTech enters the sound scape, as the stage lights beam bright green. Fiore maneuvers the stage as if exploring, all the while reaching outwardly with his fists. At times, he grasps his wrists and brushes his palms against his chest. As the music heightens into a house beat, Fiore shifts his explorative demeanor into an even more confident presence, swaying his hips. His hands lift to frame his forehead, creating a crown-like shape.
Shifting away from the beginning’s uncertainty, Fiore’s solo now offers a celebration of journey, growth, and transition. I feel this in his ongoing reaching motifs as he travels through the stage, and in his sense of ease when he lingers in balances for seconds longer than expected – so beautifully satisfying!
A voice recording of Fiore’s plays over the house music: “I loved you for who I thought you were, and not for who you are,” we hear. “You didn’t deserve that position. You are not competent enough. Some people say you’re a bit gay. Stop doing gay hands. Don’t pull the rope too hard…it breaks….you are not enough.”
While we listen to Fiore’s internal monologue, which replays in both English and his first language, Italian, at a faster speed and overlayed, I realize that Fiore’s gestures introduced earlier in the solo are inspired by the text. The rope-pulling, the crown, and the whirling hand gestures all allude to the fears and thoughts he speaks about. The work is extremely personal to him, depicting the fears and assumptions he has heard about himself or the thoughts he self-imposes on himself. This is heightened as he grips his wrists behind his back, turning rapidly while the lights flash gold and black.
A turning point occurs as Fiore screams, dropping into a deep, bent-legged shape and the lighting turns to a natural glow in the theater. The music and spoken word both cut out. All the while, the black fabric sits in the downstage center. Fiore reaches for the fabric, revealing a journal from within, and clutching it to his chest. He lays it down delicately.
A calm piano score resumes, and a circular pool of light surrounds the journal. Fiore rolls, rotates, and shifts around the book, at times reaching towards the journal as if to pick it up, but then retracting his hand. I wonder here if he is either hesitating to document his thoughts, or avoiding reading something he had previously written. Ultimately, he lifts the book up, holds it against his heart, and walks upstage. The lights black out.
An emotional piano ballad begins as the lights return, offering us a silhouetted view of Fiore facing upstage as in the beginning of the work, his torso undulating. This time, he is standing: a figure of literal growth. We see a glowing light behind Fiore exactly where he holds the journal; the book is beaming. He dances with the glowing orb, lifting it and swirling it overhead in an emotional, poignant moment. The music develops, introducing a swelling strings score, and I enjoy Fiore depicting motifs and movements previously introduced, but somehow with a renewed sense of self and intention.
Overhead, we hear, “It took me some time to figure out. You want to try to be perfect, and try to adapt to what others want you to be. Is it really worth it? Proving you are capable and worthy for other people? Look within yourself instead…every single word, even the one that will hurt you, will make you grow…This is you. And you’re More than Enough.”
Fiore steps downstage, carrying the book once more against his heart. Slowly opening the pages, the light within glows as the stage lights fade to black.
My biggest takeaways from “More than Enough” are Fiore’s vulnerability, honesty, and strength. I was thrilled to experience his solo, celebrating the self, the journey, and the optimism for what is to come.
Author:
Kristen Hedberg
Website:
kristenhedberg.org
Photo Credit:
Michaelyoungphotography
