THEGAYUK

Author: Chris Bridges

  • THEATRE REVIEW | Quentin Crisp: Naked Hope, St James Theatre, London

    ★★★ | Quentin Crisp: Naked Hope, St James Theatre, London
    “I became one of the stately homos of England.”

    From a conventional middle-class Surrey upbringing to global notoriety via his autobiography “The Naked Civil Servant”, Quentin Crisp was an extraordinary raconteur and wit. This new production, making its London premiere after an Edinburgh season, shows Quentin both in his beloved but squalid Chelsea flat as the 1970s dawn, and in his final years in his adopted New York, with the new millennium beckoning.

    The show draws on Quentin’s own writing and performances in a new script by Mark Farrelly, who also performs (West End credits include Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Woolf with Matthew Kelly). He is directed by the renowned Linda Marlowe, who has won awards for her own solo work such as Berkoff’s Women.
    Quentin Crisp was an extraordinary character. Sharp-tongued, controversial and seemingly fearless. Born in an age when gay sex was illegal and liable to land you in prison, he embraced what he was: a flamboyant and effeminate homosexual. Facing ridicule, beatings and scorn as well as the ardour of men in the back alleys of Soho, he became a notorious character. With the publication of his autobiography and subsequent television film of this, starring John Hurt, he took infamy and his waspish wit to a much wider audience. His one-liners were legendary as were his regular television chat show appearances.

    Alienating the gay rights movement of the 1970s and causing furore with flippant comments about anything from AIDS being a passing fad, homosexuality being a terrible disease and his views on Princess Diana, perhaps more shockingly, the seemingly very English based institution, moved to New York and made his home there in his later years.

    Farrelly’s play has strengths and weaknesses. He manages to capture some of the wit, acidity and pathos of Crisp but at times this is slightly patchy. The script is stronger in the first half when Crisp is shown alone in his London flat, addressing the audience as he postures and quips with the thin veneer showing some vulnerability beneath. Although physically much sturdier than Crisp, he does manage, mostly, to convey an essence of Crisp’s character and demeanour. The second half, where Farrelly depicts Crisp performing in New York just before his death, felt much weaker with the relentless round of bon mots becoming a bit tired and the audience participation element feeling a bit unnecessary to the show. I did, however, laugh quite a lot and it was good to be reminded of some of Crisp’s better one-liners in this well-researched show.

    Quentin Crisp: Naked Hope is on at St James Theatre until the 7th of September 2014

    Buy tickets here: http://www.stjamestheatre.co.uk/events/quentin-crisp-naked-hope/

    The show will also be touring the U.K. from October with shows at Greenwich, Cardiff, Dundee and Hemel Hempstead.

  • THEATRE REVIEW | Odd Shaped Balls, Etcetera Theatre, London

    ★ ★ ★ ★ | Odd Shaped Balls, Etcetera Theatre, London

    After a four-week run at The Edinburgh Festival with stellar five star reviews and award nominations, Miller Theatre Productions returns with Odd Shaped Balls for a limited run at the Etcetera Theatre in Camden.

    Odd Shaped Balls is a new play exploring the difficulties faced by gay sports stars through the eyes of a young rugby player. Brothers, Richard D Sheridan (playwright) and Chris Sheridan (actor), forged the show after witnessing a real life incident of homophobic bullying in the sport that they love.

    When rising rugby star James Hall is publicly ‘outed’ by his ex, his life becomes a struggle of dealing with increased media attention and the pressures of being labelled a role model on and off the pitch, while trying to adapt to changes in his personal relationships. The show takes an honest and often comical look into the changing room banter of male sports teams and their relationship to their fans and how it can intimidate players to live a lie.

    With rave reviews and a fascinating subject matter, this play looks like it’ll be well worth checking (as does Chris Sheridan, judging by the publicity shots).

    Odd Shaped Balls is on at the Etcetera Theatre from 18th to 20th of September.

  • THEATRE REVIEW | Dogfight, Southwark Playhouse

    ★★★★ | Dogfight, Southwark Playhouse

    San Francisco 1963 is the setting for this powerful musical, receiving its European premiere at The Southwark Playhouse. A bunch of marines are on their final night of shore leave before heading off to fight in Vietnam and decide to play a cruel and misogynistic game. They each pool their money; pick up the plainest girls that they can find and compete for who can pull the worst of the bunch and gain the prize money.

    Based on the 1991 movie of the same name starring River Phoenix, Dogfight premièred Off-Broadway in 2012, when it won the Lucille Lortel Award for Outstanding Musical and was nominated for 5 Outer Critics Circle and 2 Drama Desk Awards.

    Eddie (Jamie Muscato) meets waitress Rose (the talented and powerful newcomer Laura Jane Matthewson) and what starts as a slightly brash testosterone fuelled piece evolves into something much more tender and touching between the two leads. The supporting cast is excellent too, giving sterling performances. Peter Duchan’s book is well written and the music and lyrics by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul are a perfect bend of humour, pathos and warmth. There’s a wordy Sondheim-like quality to some of the numbers that work well within the context. The choreography is good (if slightly restricted by the smallish space) and the almost bare stage is cleverly used to recreate various scenes.

    Southwark Playhouse has really picked out a gem in this award-winning premiere. There’s a moving and enthralling story, superb acting and singing and the piece delivers everything it promises and more (including a lot of hot young marines in their underwear, I couldn’t not mention that one).

  • THEATRE REVIEW | The Picture Of John Gray, The Old Red Lion Theatre, London

    ★★★★ | The Picture Of John Gray, The Old Red Lion Theatre, London

    ‘We all hide – the only choice is where.’

    Based on a true story, C.J. Wilmann’s play is an unconventional love story about secrecy, denial and compromise.

    In the summer of 1889, Oscar Wilde began a love affair with a young working class poet whose beauty seemed to defy Time itself. Months later, he would use this man’s surname for his most infamous creation. Immortalised in The Picture of Dorian Gray but soon ditched by its author, John Gray is left to grow up and become his own man.

    Meanwhile Oscar is playing out his own downfall on the most public of stages. He is imprisoned for acts of ‘Gross Indecency’ with other men, and the community of poets and artists he had mixed with is fractured as a hunt for Sodomites sweeps London. As around him the most resilient of relationships are pushed near breaking point, John must choose sanctuary in the purity of his faith or the dangerous arms of a man who offers him love.

    I’ve always been ambivalent about Oscar Wilde, finding his works amusing and sparkling with genius but also annoyingly pompous and at times grating. I had a little trepidation about this play but I was quickly proved wrong. This is a very well written and staged play with a strong storyline and a moving and emotive theme. The five young actors portray the circle of Victorian gay men with convincing panache and although there are Wilde-like moments in the banter within the script, this is so much more than a story about the effect of Oscar Wilde but more a depiction of what must have been a terrifying time to be gay.

    The two leads, Patrick Walshe McBride and Christopher Tester, are outstanding in their performances and are ably supported by the rest of the cast on a stark stage set with a backdrop of an oversized fragment of a painting of a young man. Tester’s powerful performance (as Gray’s lover. Andre Raffalovich) moved me close to tears and Walshe McBride subtly takes the viewer through Gray’s evolution from foppish young poet through to a wiser, more measured man. These are definitely actors to watch out for.

    This is a play that is well worth seeing, with major themes that are still relevant today but equally as important, it’s an entertaining, moving and often comedic play. Whether you love, loath or are indifferent to Wilde is irrelevant. This is a great piece of theatre.

    The Picture of John Gray runs until the 30th of August 2014
    There are also various post show events:

    Post-show talk with Martin Bowley QC, legal barrister and prominent gay rights campaigner, Tuesday 12th August
    Post-show Q&A with the cast and crew, Wednesday 13th August

    Post-show open discussion on Oscar Wilde with CJ Wilmann and special guest Neil McKenna (author of The Secret Life of Oscar Wilde), Friday 15th August

    Buy tickets here: http://www.oldredliontheatre.co.uk/the-picture-of-john-gray.htm

  • THEATRE REVIEW | My Night With Reg

    ★★★★★ | My Night With Reg

    Kevin Elyot’s witty, warm and poignant 1994 play introduces six gay men in 1980s London over the course of three meetings. Shy and nervous Guy is hosting a flat warming and, as he prepares for the evening, John; the flashily handsome man he has spent over fifteen years nursing a crush on, arrives early.

    Bickering couple Bernie (a finicky bore) plus his testosterone fuelled bus driver partner Benny and joyously flamboyant Daniel make up the group of friends. Naïve young Birmingham painter and decorator Eric sits on the peripheries.

    Binding the men is Daniel’s lover, Reg, a mysterious and never seen figure who is never seen on stage but who the men have a surprising amount in common with, namely their night or nights with him. The script is hilarious, tightly written and very ably performed by this superb cast. The themes are writ large but always subtly played. The spectre of AIDS is a constant presence yet is never named explicitly. Unrequited love, betrayal, anxiety and loneliness are all heavily featured yet in such a way that they aren’t oppressive or laboured. It’s a testament to the late Elyot’s writing that this play is so tightly scripted and at 1 hour 50 minutes with no intervals, passes in a whir, never dragging.

    The cast are excellent and the characters are portrayed as well rounded and three-dimensional which is quite some feat in a play that has such comedic power also. There isn’t a weak link in the cast and special mention has to go to the very handsome Julian Ovenden’s prolonged moment of nudity (I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t an image that has stuck in my mind).

    Sadly, Elyot died before he could see this magnificent revival of a play that deserves not to be forgotten. Tickets are selling out very quickly so clamour online, queue for day returns, beg and scramble for one. This is a performance not to be missed.

    My Night With Reg runs until 27th of September 2014 at the Donmar Warehouse, London.

    Tickets available here

  • THEATRE REVIEW | Epstein – The Man Who Made The Beatles

    ★★★★ | Epstein – The Man Who Made The Beatles

    Brian Epstein was, as the title suggests, the man who made the Beatles. After seeing them play a lunchtime gig at the Cavern Club in Liverpool in 1961, he persuaded them to let him act as their manager (in spite of no previous experience in this role) and helped find them the record deal that would shoot them to stardom.

    In spite of his pivotal role in changing the face of British music he was often overlooked and missed out on recognition and credit for his behind the scenes influence.

    Jewish, gay in a time when homosexuality was a criminal offence and experiencing an early death aged 32 from an accidental overdose of sleeping pills; what more do we know about Brian’s life? Andrew Sherlock’s well written two-hander delves into the psyche of Epstein by imagining a night just before his death where he brings back a young man (known only as This Boy) to his swanky Belgravia apartment. The writing is tight and witty and cranks up dramatic tension, let down only slightly by the overuse of puns relating to The Beatles and the odd cheesy line and too knowing comment about the sixties. There’s plenty of absurdity in Epstein’s preening and posturing and his fragile vanity but also pathos as he reveals himself as a man who has spent his life fighting his own corner in a bullying and disapproving world for a young Jewish gay man.

    Andrew Lancel (Coronation Street, The Bill) is excellent as Epstein, even managing to look spookily like the man himself. He portrays him with skill as a well-nuanced character with endearing vulnerabilities as well as touches of monstrosity and simpering pomposity. He inhabits the stage, a convincing and versatile sixties interior, with a real presence and is entirely believable. Lancel is clearly an experienced actor at the peak of his powers and is a sight well worth seeing. Newcomer Will Finlason, as This Boy, is also extremely talented and his character acts as part narrator and partly as an excellent foil that illuminates the character of Epstein.

    The set is perfect with stylish back projections and gorgeously stylish animations that work really well to enhance the piece and create period style. The beautifully restored underground gem of the Leicester Square Theatre is an ideal venue for the show as it was dubbed the Cavern in the Town back in the 1960s due to its hosting of music acts. It’s got air conditioning too if you need to escape an oppressively hot evening for a few hours too.
    This isn’t a perfect play but it’s a good play and well worth seeing for an entertaining couple of hours.
    The play runs until the 6th of September 2014
    Buy tickets here: http://epsteintheplay.com

  • THEATRE REVIEW | Drag King Richard III, Riverside Studios, London

    ★★★★ | Drag King Richard III, Riverside Studios, London

    STANCE Theatre’s highly acclaimed production drags Shakespeare’s Richard III into a black comedy exploration of transgender identity.

    For Laurie, born biologically female, the frustration of living in the wrong body presents disturbing consequences with long-term lesbian friend, La Femme. She identifies with Shakespeare’s deformed anti-hero after auditioning to play him in a school production; seeing parallels with the betrayal she feels within, her from her own body and the play is interspersed with clever interpretations of Shakespearean dialogue that fit perfectly within the context of Laurie/Laurence’s story.

    When Laurence re-enters La Femme’s life after a spell away in the army, she reveals that she’s transitioning. La Femme struggles to understand this, initially and the issue brings into perspective her own thoughts and feelings about gender identity, how others perceive and react to you and what it means to be you.

    I wasn’t sure what to expect from this performance but I definitely got more than I bargained for. Terri Power’s award winning piece is a funny, deftly written play with some genuinely moving moments. The themes of identity are universal and not just applicable to transgender people. Laurie’s story is a fascinating one and one that shouldn’t feel too difficult for anyone to grasp, thanks to Power’s concise yet powerful play. The conceit of the two handed perspective and the humorous touches worked brilliantly. This is much more than a straightforward ‘issues’ play. Well worth seeing with very strong performances from the two leads.

    I wasn’t sure what to expect from this performance but I definitely got more than I bargained for. Terri Power’s award winning piece is a funny, deftly written play with some genuinely moving moments. The themes of identity are universal and not just applicable to transgender people. Laurie’s story is a fascinating one and one that shouldn’t feel too difficult for anyone to grasp, thanks to Power’s concise yet powerful play. The conceit of the two handed perspective and the humorous touches worked brilliantly. This is much more than a straightforward ‘issues’ play. Well worth seeing with very strong performances from the two leads.

  • REVIEW | Cirque Du Cabaret, London Wonderground

    ★★★★ | Cirque Du Cabaret, London Wonderground

    The Wonderground features a packed programme of circus, cabaret and family entertainment, all taking place in the beautiful 1920s Paradiso Spiegeltent. There’s also oddities, curiosities and eccentricities from the Sideshow Wonderland run by Guinness World Record-Holder, The Space Cowboy, and the 60-metre high Star Flyer gives you an unrivalled view over London’s rooftops (if you can bear to keep your eyes open, I couldn’t!).

    There’s a huge range of top class entertainment from the saucy Briefs Boy-lesque, the breath-taking Limbo, the hilarious Tina C plus loads more burlesque, cabaret as well as more family-themed fun. It’s definitely worth getting down there just to soak up the atmosphere on a summer’s evening and hang out in style somewhere that’s a bit more exciting than being huddled together on the pavement of a sweltering London boozer getting jostled by pedestrians.

    I was lucky enough to catch the Cirque du Cabaret, hosted by the dazzling wit that is Champagne Charlie. Set in the glorious Spiegeltent with all its glittering glamour, this was an atmospheric night that sizzled with sex appeal and risqué humour. Featuring the cream of London cabaret, comedy and burlesque in an ever-changing line-up, this has got to be one of the finest nights out in the city.

    The next Cirque du cabaret is on the 8th of August at The London Wonderground. Read more here: http://www.cirqueducabaret.com

    Read more and book shows for The Wonderground here: http://www.londonwonderground.co.uk/your-visit

  • COLUMN | Mr Nosey

    I have a very bad habit on public transport. I’m incurably nosy and I can’t help peeking over people’s shoulders at what they’re reading, watching or texting. It’s naughty, voyeuristic and an invasion of privacy but oh what a joy it can be.

    Whether it’s spotting the suited businessman who is secretly reading a romantic novel on his Kindle, the surprisingly sexual texts of a middle aged woman or the semi-pornographic and bizarre social media feeds of a teenager; I love the little glimpse it gives me into people’s lives. It’s a bit like the dusky late summer nights when you get a peek into people’s sitting rooms in the magical little hour when people light the lamps just before they draw their curtains. It’s a very guilty pleasure but I confess. I’m guilty as charged. I love to see and imagine what others’ lives are like. I’m not after spying on people naked or spotting people in coitus. I’d be pretty mortified if I did and blush the colour of a pillar-box whilst quickly looking away. I want to see nasty curtains and ornaments, not cocks.

    I got a couple of shocks recently. About a month ago I was on the train into central London and a well-groomed man of about 20 was answering a volley of texts on his phone. I cast a sneaky sideways glance and was pretty horrified to read that he was setting up being the all you can eat buffet for a group of Chinese businessmen in a hotel. The reassuring factor was that the person procuring his services appeared to have arranged it very carefully and was reassuring him that the businessmen would all wait in a separate room and take it turns, forming an orderly queue to make use of his body. I must admit to feeling a bit queasy but reproached myself for my bourgeois small mindedness. He was wearing McQueen (he needed income to maintain that look), looked relaxed and happy and who am I to have qualms about his job just because I wouldn’t do it myself. Although, an orderly queue? I love good manners. Maybe not such a horrific job after all, provided it was a good quality hotel.

    A few weeks ago I was travelling up North and my nosiness caused me a major dilemma. The middle-aged businessman man sitting in front of me was reviewing his selection of photographs on his phone.

    These weren’t happy snaps of his kids or shots of Instagrammed food: they were covert photos of young women’s crotches taken under train tables. After an hour of seeing him from between the seat backs enlarging, changing definitions and compulsively viewing a huge collection of photos of women’s thighs and gussets (all taken under train tables), I made my displeasure known through a series of huffs and tsks that made him stop for a good 5 minutes before resuming his compulsion.

    To cut a long story very short: I managed to make like a cross between Mary Whitehouse and Miss Marple and got his name and company address from his email signature when he sent an email on his laptop and reported him to the police. Being the person I am, I challenged him first and asked if I could take a picture of his cock or not; a question he seemed to object to which was something I found hypocritical in an inveterate vagina snapper.

    He, ultimately, got a police caution, which was great. My point in telling the story? I wonder am I any better than him? I invade privacy by reading texts, looking in people’s houses and I lecherously glance at men’s bulging crotches on public transport. Only yesterday, I couldn’t resist a good look at a muscled man in tight Lycra (he was definitely circumcised). I know people who post pictures of hot men in the street on Facebook for their friends’ to comment on.

    There are whole social media feeds of people’s photos of bare chested young men on Tube trains. It’s no wonder that we can get confused on what is right and wrong any more. Is my grandmother’s favourite 1950’s past time of passing on overheard bits of gossips over the garden fence any different in its intrusive and harmful voyeuristic joy? Is the digital age making us all into a bunch of twisted individuals?

    Maybe we should all think twice about what the boundaries are and what is harmless admiration and what is invasion of privacy. The questions and issues are endless. The big question: will I stop peeking at people’s I-Pads and phones? Of course not.

  • REVIEW | Deborah Frances-White, Half a Can of Worms

    ★★★★★ | Deborah Frances-White, Half a Can of Worms

    Deborah Frances-White was adopted at ten days old and up until late October 2012 she had no idea who or where her birth family were.

    An extraordinary run of events meant that she was suddenly living as a round the clock internet Nancy Drew, finding out more information every hour about her birth mother, aunts, uncles, grandparents and even possibly half brothers and sisters. What she is learnt was that you can’t open half a can of worms.
    Armed with a cut price private detective, a lot of social media to trawl through and a template of her own distinctive eyebrows, Deborah navigated her way through a family search that would have flummoxed lesser mortals.

    This is a rare feat: narrative stand-up that is warm and moving and very human. The audience is instantly on Deborah’s side and her persona has the room eating out of her hand. She even helped an elderly lady turn off her ringing phone without the slightest hint of irritation. Stand up comedians can be terribly nice as well as being very funny.

    The show is well composed, backed up by well put together film clips and manages to entertain with a ripping yarn as a backdrop. Deborah certainly deserves to have a hit show with this piece.

    Catch the show at the Edinburgh Fringe from the 1st to the 25th of August
    Buy tickets here: https://www.edfringe.com/whats-on/comedy/deborah-frances-white-half-a-can-of-worms

  • COLUMN | A Difficult Spot

    One thing that I looked forward to about ageing was the absence of spots. I imagined that there was a magical age, twenty-five perhaps, where my skin would clear up and I’d be totally blemish free. It was a false hope. I’m in my early forties and am sporting a ridiculous collection of pimples around my mouth.

    I managed to miss acne vulgaris. I was lucky enough not to suffer those rashes and colonies of ugly spots during my teenage years. What I got instead was the uber-zit. I’d grow these massive headless spots that would take root and stick around sending me running for the nearest chemist to peruse the chemical warfare agents that promised clearer skin. I had two giant spots on the end of my nose for so long during my late teens that I christened them (Bette and Joan if you must know: they were bickering mean spots).

    I scoured my skin with bright pink lotions that left me with a complexion like a flaky pastry sausage roll but the spots remained, red and shiny as ever. I applied medical concealer that was designed for the cast of TOWIE (i.e. bright orange). Having a bright orange, powdery pimple was clearly so much more discrete. I applied acidic lotions that burned and sizzled but seemed to feed the spots. I avoided grease and chocolate, ate fruit, drank water and squeezed/didn’t squeeze till I was blue (and still spotty) in the face.

    The advent of facial hair made things worse. The spots would come and go and were occasionally joined by their more vicious friends: the ingrowing hairs. The only delight with these is the sating of my love of picking and prodding. Hot flannels and savage attacks garner a lot o satisfaction.

    I’m less vain and self-conscious than in my youth and I have a more philosophical outlook to things. I tend to go with the phrase: It is what it is.

    I’ll sport my pimples with pride today. I don’t love my glue sniffer type rash but I can take it. It’ll go in time.