Gay history is a hard act to follow.

By JBR

I’m supposed to be writing a postscript. I’m meant to be considering my opinion of the two shows I’ve seen and offering an analysis with the benefit of reflection and afterthought. A postscript. That is, after all, the point of this journal. Instead I find myself considering a pre-thought, a foreword. I think of all that happened before; all those who stood against oppression. Marches and fights and blood and anger and love. I think of long lists of noble names, of the men and women brave enough throughout history to stand up and demand to be heard. And I recall my own contribution; how when I came out the age of consent was still 21, and my then partner and I were breaking the law. I remember long hours on the campaign trail, giving TV, radio and press interviews as we fought, unsuccessfully at first, for the age of consent to be lowered. I remember being called a disgusting pervert on national television, and I remember the bicycle chain across my face that saw me hospitalised for the night. The physical scar may have faded, the emotional one has not. Let’s assume then, that I know, firsthand, a little of the oppression that haunts both these productions.

Let me bring those thoughts to this piece, because I am certain that my list of noble names would be very similar to the list that writers Jon Bradfield & Martin Hooper held in mind when they were penning A Hard Rain, playing now at Above the Stag theatre in Vauxhall. Having auditioned, unsuccessfully, myself for A Hard Rain, I’ll let you sift my thoughts on the piece using whatever Instagram filter is currently modish, “Disappointed Jealousy” perhaps.

Wisely avoiding depicting the actual Stonewall riots themselves, Bradfield and Hooper concentrate on a fictionalised account of a bar in New York’s Village in the days of unrest leading up to the riots. For those younger readers who may think that political activism begins and ends with the ‘Like’ button on Facebook, the Stonewall riots are, perhaps generously, credited with the birth of the modern gay rights movement. Who cares if the accepted mythology that drag queens led the riots on the night police raided The Stonewall Inn might not be strictly accurate? Never let the truth get in the way of a good story, and hell, if you can chuck glitter and sequins in there for good measure, well, why not. And this is a good story.

A Hard Rain gives full agency and traction to the mythology of Stonewall in the character of Ruby, a former US Marine, booted out of Vietnam who has planted his stilettoed heel firmly in the heart of Greenwich Village’s bohemia.

Hooper & Bradfield know what to do with a good story and their witty, layered script, laden with zesty one-liners and real human relationships has the potential to become a modern classic. It’s a shame that, in this uneven production, the whole ends up as considerably less than the sum of its parts. Despite some exceptionally strong performances, notably Nigel Barber as the Mafioso bar owner, Frank, the sterling work done by all the actors is hampered by Tricia Thorns' occasionally tentative direction, a lack of pace (particularly in the overly long first act) and a procession of awkwardly clumsy scene changes. Michael Edwards turns in a complex performance as Ruby, fragile yet filled with braggadocio, but the intimate scenes between him and his WASP boyfriend, Josh (Oliver Lynes), lack vulnerability on both parts. It’s left to Rhys Jennings as crooked cop Danny and Stephanie Willson as barmaid Angie to bring heart to this piece. Surprisingly, it is street-kid-cum-Village-girl Miss Jimmy, played with impressive sensibility by James El-Sharawy, who proves to be the most affecting of the show.

David Shield's functional set is too pristine. The bar is too clean, the clothes are too clean, the air is too clean. It's all very sanitized. There’s no sense of the simmering tensions recorded by homostorians in the days leading up to the riots; a heatwave, Judy Garland’s unexpected death, the ongoing raids on queer bars. This lack of detail; a tangible depiction of the time, the place, the heat, and the social mores which defined those days is the production’s biggest downfall. The dirt, the danger, the sense that these people are all, in their way, outcasts, is lost.

Just a few miles away, as the crow flies, at Trafalgar Studios in the West End, but another continent away dramatically, The Act, starring one of Above the Stag’s most beloved regular actors, Matthew Baldwin, covers a relatively similar period. While A Hard Rain focusses primarily on the days leading up to the Stonewall Riots in New York in 1969, The Act addresses the effects of the Wolfendon Report which led to the decriminalisation of homosexuality in 1967.

Having already enjoyed two successful runs at Oval House The Act comes into the West End with all the polish and finesse that A Hard Rain will hopefully be given space to develop. Devised and created by Thomas Hescott and Matthew Baldwin The Act takes us through a trawl of the gay underworld of London’s 50’s and 60’s. Watched over by grand old queers of the past on Gavin Dobson’s simple, elegant set, Baldwin takes his place beneath an etching of Quentin Crisp and firmly establishes himself as a gifted raconteur in the old style, reminding me very much of a foetally young Bette Bourne. His performance is blisteringly funny and intensely moving.

But beneath all of the theatrical gloss and style, beneath all the humour and self-deprecation, Baldwin exposes a raw and vulnerable side and a real affection for the myriad of characters he plays. Slim, handsome and a little strained, Baldwin recreates fifty years of gay stories and reminds us of the importance of offering homage and respect to those who went before. Attention must be paid.

All we do as actors, or writers, or theatre practitioners, or as human beings, all we really do is tell each other stories. We tell each other stories to illuminate our lives, remember our history, and hope that the stories of our past may reveal something about our present. For most of my formative years Gay Sweatshop were the only theatre company telling my story. They took the love that dared not speak its name and sang about it, wrote plays about it, kept it alive. A Hard Rain and The Act are worthy proprietors of their flame. But is that flame needed? The Act is playing in the same theatre, albeit the smaller space, where only recently Jamie Lloyd’s impressive production of The Pride - a more mainstream production than either The Act or A Hard Rain are - played a critically acclaimed run. When gay history is absorbed into the mainstream, do we really need gay companies like Above the Stag? Is the history of the gay subculture now a part of the history of the mainstream? To answer, I’ll leave you with the words of Roger Baker, one of the founders of Gay Sweatshop. “‘Why a gay theatre group? This is a question that has been asked many times since the existence of Gay Sweatshop became known. The idea that homosexuals might identify themselves and concentrate energy in one particular area is still greeted with bewilderment, apprehension and, sometimes, scorn. The very reality of such reactions is, in fact, an answer to the question.”

JBR @JoshRochford

A Hard Rain at Above the Stag

The Act at Trafalgar Studios

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