Encountering Split Ends captures the uncanny discomfort of seeing one’s private compulsions exposed in vivid light. Claudia Shnier turns the seemingly mundane act of obsessively trimming hair into a surreal yet searing exploration of control, addiction, and emotional survival, blending humor with heartache and striking precision.
It starts with a snap. A character holds up a clump of cut hair, pauses, and then drops it to the floor as if shedding something heavier than strands. That small gesture tells you exactly where this story is headed: messy, sharp, and a little bit painful.
Shnier’s writing hits its best when it leans into humor. A tossed-off line about “arguing with your reflection” gets the biggest laugh of the night, and it’s earned because the actor throws it away with perfect timing. The pacing, though, wobbles in the second half. A long silence meant to build tension drags instead, and you can feel the audience shifting in their seats.
The design choices are simple but clever. A single chair is pulled into different corners of the stage, sometimes a salon seat, sometimes a living room, sometimes a therapist’s office. That prop grounds the show and helps it move without fuss. What doesn’t land as well is the lighting. A harsh spotlight meant to isolate one character ends up flattening the mood rather than deepening it.
The performances carry the evening. The lead finds real vulnerability in a scene where she pulls at her sleeves instead of making eye contact, and that detail makes the monologue hit harder. At the same time, some of the supporting moments feel under-rehearsed, like an argument that loses steam halfway through because the actors overlap lines.
Split Ends works because it feels close to the bone. It is funny, awkward, and sometimes uneven, but it shows how a single haircut, a single choice, can cut deeper than we expect.
