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BOOK REVIEW: ‘Countless Sleepless Nights: A Collection of Coming out Stories and Experiences’ by Carina Maggar

Review by Eric Page

Authenticity is often praised, and inauthenticity is criticised. We want people to be themselves. But what happens if the society we’re in isn’t supportive or even hostile toward who we really are? Or we don’t yet know. That’s the challenge facing many LGBTQ+ people in relation to coming out.

All we know of them is their age and location but this amazingly diverse collection of anonymous voices, have one thing in common: they are the clear, authentic voices of people like us who have made the same heart wrenching and difficult journey as most of us. Accepting themselves for what and who they are, living authentically as those Glorious Beings and then summoning up the courage, or realising they’ve nothing to lose by living honestly and telling people the truth of their lives.

Many of the stories touch on the loss and pain of family estrangements, frank, candid assessments of how being true is more important than living the lie expected of us by others. Stories tremble with possibility, of love found, lost, or allowed to slip through scared hands. There’s difficulty spoken of here too: abuse, violence, self-harm, suicide.

These are brutal truths we face. This book is a humbling read, reminding those of us, far, far from the Closet Doors of our own fearful embrace of our current lives, recalling the real strength it takes to make those first steps, and the whole life changing experience to just saying it ‘I am THIS!’.

The stories range from tragic to inspiring, from daft and cringeworthy to deeply profound and moving, with pathos, glory, honour, and raw electric delight threaded through them. Love flows through this book, gushes at us, warms us with its hope. I was touched by uprightness, the anonymity giving it the feel of voices in the dark, or chatting with strangers at an airport, snatched moments of startling clarity and honesty from people requiring to speak their truth.

Author Carina Maggar is a copywriter and creative based in London and has taken great care to curate this anthology. Most of the stories are accompanied by delicate pencil line drawing from illustrator Marine Buffard, some carefully coloured with a Japanese feel, drawn from subtle details of the narrative.

No two stories are the same, yet all are written by people who share the courage to be vulnerable, take huge risks to find love and acceptance and are brave enough to be their authentic selves. Whether you have any experience of coming out or not, these stories are incredibly powerful and moving.

Out now: £16.99, Hardback

For more info and to order the book, see the publisher’s website

REVIEW: Sister Act: The Musical @ Theatre Royal Brighton

Review by Eric Page 

If you’re looking for a night of pure joy, laughter, and fantastic music, look no further than Sister Act: The Musical at Brighton’s lovely Theatre Royal. From the off this production radiates fun, energy, and an infectious sense of joy that will leave you grinning from ear to ear. Based on, but not a copy of the famous film, we keep the silly singer, nuns and mafioso murder mix but have a range of new original songs deeply in the ’70s styles.

This is a musical about the joy found in singing and being all for nun and nun for all. Each cast member excelled in their solo performances, delivering powerful vocals that soared through the theatre with ease. From soulful ballads to upbeat gospel numbers, every song was delivered with passion and flair. And when the cast came together for duets, the harmonies were simply magical, sending shivers.

The ensemble singing piece are on point, funny and raise the rafters when these sisters get going. The whole cast rocks and turns it out, they’re on top nun form. Within the stellar performance there’s some standout moments: Kate Powell‘s Mother Superior giving us fine character development with her cut glass English voice as she first resists and them finally embraces the changes occurring around her.

Alfie Parker‘s Steady Eddie  is a comedic delight who showstops with his disco dream double reveal! Eloise Runnette’s Sister Mary Robert offers up a heartfelt belter of a hope filled number which brought the audience to its feet and had a few folk in tears. Then shimmering powerhouse Landi Oshinowo as Deloris is simply the best, allowing her powerful voice to wrap itself round the lyrics and rhythms, driving the emotional core of this musical and offering us as much tender reflection as bold, brassy assertion. She is hypnotic and nails the comedy timing each and every time. Her vocal range supporting this tender performance of finding yourself through supporting others, with some ultra cultural clash.

Full cast and creative info here

The energetic narrative pace of the show kept me fully engaged throughout. The story unfolds seamlessly, with plenty of camp humour and heartwarming moments along the way. It’s a feel-good journey that you won’t want to end. One of the highlights of Sister Act is its solid female lineup. From the sassy Deloris Van Cartier to the endearing Sister Mary Clarence, each character is brought to life with depth and charisma. The chemistry between the cast members is palpable, adding a layer of authenticity to the performance. Only the inevitable romance between Steady Eddie and Deloris feels a bit missed, but that’s some small criticism of a solidly entertaining night.

Let’s talk about the visuals. The costumes are vintage perfection, transporting you back to the glamorous era of the 1970s. The sequins are over the top camp, the colours are vibrant, and every detail is on point. There’s some delicious drag references and it’s all done with real passion and humble respect for the Catholic faith it’s rooted in. It’s a nice touch that the jokes aren’t at the expense of the sisters’ faith and gives this vintage musical a foundation in inclusion which echoes to a modern audience.

And the set? It’s huge and impressive, squished into the Theatre Royal’s Rococo spaces but throbbing with lights, projections and siding LED lit doors; presenting the various spaces the action takes place, providing the perfect backdrop for the dazzling performances.

A special mention must go to the band, directed by Tom Slade, whose musical support elevated the entire production. The sound was balanced to perfection. The clever lighting added to the atmosphere, creating moments of drama and spectacle that captivated the audience.

UK Tour details here

The auditorium was sold out, packed, and throbbing with expectation and the audience was well-behaved and seemingly thoroughly enjoyed the show. The energy in the theatre was electric, with laughter and applause ringing out after each number.

Sister Act: The Musical is an absolute delight from beginning to end. It’s a testament to the power of music, laughter, and sisterhood, and it left me smiling long after the final curtain call. Don’t miss your chance to experience this uplifting and entertaining production – it’s an evening you won’t soon forget, what a Nunderful world, this is one class act, Sisters.

For more info or to buy tickets (if you can) see the Theatre Royal website here

BOOK REVIEW Wild Things by Laura Kay

Wild Things

Laura Kay

Review by Eric Page

El Evans is stuck in a dead-end job, hopelessly in unrequited love with her best friend, Ray, and in need of a major life change.

After a New Year’s resolution to ‘Be More Wild’, El is soon in possession of one tattoo, one  hangover and memories of one, very disappointing threesome,  but she’s trying and surely it can only get better?

Setting off with three friends; Ray the DIY expert, heartbroken Will and Instagram darling Jamie to do a ‘wild thing’ and fix up a dilapidated house on Instagram in a small country village El worries and reflects on her lost time &  her love life, grappling with a monumental all-consuming crush on her housemate Ray. Author Kays’ wonderful prose, picks up small, delightful moments of El’s life to sustain, embellish and empower living communally. Teasing us with the throbbing crush, stolen looks and burning touches of will they, won’t they possibilities of passion. There’s no surprises in what happens here, but that doesn’t diminish the narrative allure of its unfolding.

Living so close offers the opportunity to discover more about the others, their heartbreaks, their online influencing, and the reasons that brought them all together in the first place. Kay explores the dynamics of Queer chosen families with care, teasing out how trust, unconditional acceptance and daft Queer Joy can be ties that bind. These queer friendship are accepting, warm, messy, and believable and the interactions between these delightful characters made me laugh out loud, with some gloriously camp comedy touches and perfect timing folded in. The chickens & hens they adopt deserve a book of their own! The wider outside village life – its gossip, drama and interests, is an appealing foil to the emotional journeys of the housemates.

There’s a goofy joyful quality to this book, and to our charming protagonist El, she’s fumbling, but clever, astute but slightly shy, confident but unsure and blissfully unaware of some of the deeper feelings of the people around her, leading to plenty of humour and sensitive explorations of managing friendships and your own expectations of life.  The tremulous knowledge of being so close to her heart’s desire and having to the daily struggle of household tasks and chores is handled with a deft warmth that reminded me of how lovely author Kay’s writing can be. Kay is touch perfect with their throwaways, deeply insightful personal observations, and the small sentences we use on ourselves to keep our chins up.

It’s a frightfully British adventure, with an eye on the American market, but there’s no artifice here, in the same way that Tales of the City is intrinsically American, so Wild Things wears it’s small b britishness on it’s perfectly knitted sleeve.

An entrancing, delightful book about listening to your inner voice (and its deeper under currents of desire) and choosing the path less trodden, being impulsive, following your dreams and finding yourself out there, wild and energised. Left me smiling and warm, a real treasure of a Queer Rom Com.

Out now £9.99 ( Paperback)

For more info or to order the book see the publisher’s website here:

 

 

 

 

BOOK REVIEW: ‘Better Left Unsaid’ by Tufayel Ahmed

Review by Eric Page

After his wife suffered a vicious race and faith-based hate crime, which is recorded and goes viral, the tensions across this family start to fray. Imran calls out to his sister, living in New York, to return home to Bow, East London and support them in this complex family story of navigating grief, loss and the search for authentic happiness. As eldest child Imran promises his dying mother to continue a ‘traditional’ patriarchal approach to the family, to be ‘the man’.

Middle daughter Sumaya marries and moved to American, fleeing the suffocating traditions of her Bengali British community. Majid, the youngest son, a mannered millennium, glories in his lack of responsibility, exploring a fluid LGBTQ+ approach to his life, Queer, loving, accepting and seemingly at ease with the many facets of his identity and integrated into a strong group of empowered, supporting queer people of colour.

When Sumaya returns to London, rediscovering her secret lover and triggering a whole series of events, and empowering her to make stark changes to the way she’s been living, breaking out of the rut of repeated family ties, allowing her feelings to flow, and the energy of that release giving her the confidence to push through and speak her truth, first to her younger gender queer brother. He takes it with a shrug, but introduces her to his friends and their intersectional delights who offer her hope for new life.

She also addresses her older brother, her blunt frank approach to him releasing years of tensions, resentments and a recognition that they can’t go on living in the decreasing circles of their parents cultural expectations of them, but they (and he) needs to let go, put things into perspective and move on.  This leads to Imran challenging the direct and systemic racism he’s worked under for years and reaching out to his wife across a gulf of his own making and exploring what his own previously rigid masculinity needs to thrive, stripped of its traditional beliefs.

The narrative thumps up a pace as the book nears it ends with all three siblings having an opportunity to reflect and address the ways the promises made, assumed expectations bound them and their own desires to live authentic lives have compounded to make them feel stuck.

It’s a very happy ever after ending, with the pressure of the truth washing away any of the South Asian experience of migrant life nitty gritty that these characters may have had to deal with had they not had the options of moving country and place to establish themselves. But author Ahmed gives his characters hard but kind endings – out, honest and hearts full of hope.

It ends with love, found, hoped for and refreshed, self-respect freeing them from seeking others’ approval, the siblings finding their family bonds, both blood and chosen are made anew, embracing the authentic reality of their queer, bi and conscious coupling choices. Recognising that their complex intersectional mix of rich ethnic and faith-based heritage, as contemporary urban Londoners, and their own families lived experience of resilience offers them a strong foundation to blossom and grow. It speaks to how our intimate connections with birth family transcend culture, heritage and geography.

Ahmed’s prose deals with huge issues in a touching, personal way, giving the characters time to see how they need to change and what they need to lose to make those changes. We hear their voices with clarity, experiencing the fears and feelings, their love and losses, and breathe their wishes and hopes along with them, giving the reader a tender insight into the tribulations and relationships of this contemporary British Bengali Muslim and Islamic heritage family, whilst reflecting our own hopes back, to be seen, to be heard, to be loved.

Lovely, recommended.

Out now, £6.99. Order a copy HERE.

BOOK REVIEW: ‘Survivor’s Guilt’ by Robyn Gigl

Review by Eric Page

Attorney and LGBTQ+ activist Robyn Gigl, whose books have won many prestigious awards, tackles the complexities of gender, power, public perception in this twisted plot of human trafficking in another powerful legal thriller featuring Erin McCabe – a transgender attorney –  at its centre.

This is strongly reminiscent of Gigl’s first novel (in this series) By Way of Sorrow, a deeply personal viewpoint of Erin’s life as a high stakes lawyer offered a case which echoes the protagonist’s own identity. Ann –  a trans women – who apparently confesses to the murder of her adoptive father, but something doesn’t quite add up and a clandestine meeting with a police officer working on the case convinces Erin to take it up.

There are major themes of power at play, privilege and entitlement and who gets to be listened to, and whose truth is heard, or believed. What justice really means, to different people and the way the law and the mechanisms of justice are manipulated by the established and entitled. It makes this book possibly unique (so far) and Erin reaches out from their intersectional perspectives to underscore her humanity with her own life, experiences and the emotional impacts unfolding around her work.

I like Erin, they are an interesting, likeable, and believable person, which keeps you reading even when the pace slows considerably, as in the sub plot here of the mother’s cancer diagnoses. Duane Swisher, Erins ‘sidekick’ and sleuthing colleague, picks up the pieces that don’t quite fit in this thriller. Erin’s reflections and experiences, viewed through her trans lens, offer us insights, razor sharp perceptions and wry observations of the working of the legal systems that only an LGBTQ+ mind could pick out.

Fighting against time and a prosecutor hell-bent on notching another conviction, the two work tirelessly – Erin inside the courtroom, Swish in the field – to clear Ann’s name. But despite her father’s associates’ determination to keep their own illegal activities buried, a horrifying truth emerges – a web of human exploitation, unchecked greed, and murder. This quest to see justice served becomes a desperate struggle to survive.

Unlike in Sorrow, where we experience the detailed working of the legal mind as Erin unpicks events, here the story is a little heavier, with the wicked main characters being almost Bond villain in their intent and, although giving some thrilling episodes of denouement, it’s not quite as ordinary or believable as the characters and plots that weave around this main narrative thrust. I like my courtroom thrillers to unfold with obvious facts that I’d missed earlier in the narrative, that ‘Oh right’ moment, but that’s mostly missing in the exposure of the real culprits here. There’s far more threat and danger lurking in these shadowy corridors of power.

Erin is such a well written character, this outing, which shows her living her best life, but also under real danger for taking on a case for another person, who also happens to be trans, isn’t as satisfying a legal thriller as the first book but is certainly a dark and menacing thriller in the modern broader genre. Author Gigl’s prose is warm, engaging and deeply personal allowing her characters to bloom as real people in our mind’s eye.

Although unsatisfying in its ending, which questions the natures of justice, guilt, and harm, I was delighted by another opportunity to enjoy the high stakes courtroom dramas of attorney Erin McCabe, Trans, successful, living her best life, finding love with a good man, struggling with her family but vocally, unapologetically being simply brilliant.

In these distorted times where narratives are key, readers; trans, non-binary, queer or LGBTQ+ need to see and hear ourselves, portrayed positively in the stories we read, and Gigl’s second novel offers us a banker for the queer bookshelves and elbows her way in to, rightfully, take up some award -inning space.

More please!

Out now. For more info or to buy the book see the publisher’s website

REVIEW: The Handmaid’s Tale @ English National Opera

Review by Eric Page

The ENO’s revival of The Handmaid’s Tale, depicting the story of one ‘handmaiden’ Offred in this totalitarian, theonomic, and neo-Puritanical regime, is taken from Margaret Atwood’s dystopian novel, veers away from too much direct graphic brutality but is a scary view of what might be, and is unremittingly beautiful in its stark no nonsense harshness.

©-Zoe-Martin

The orchestra, with Joana Carneiro at the helm, was astonishing, bringing a textural substance to the music which transfixed me, I was often drawn out of the unremitting misery on the stage by the beautiful hypnotic precision of this music, instruments wrapping around each other in mathematical perfections which transcended the pit.

The acoustic playfulness of the music from composer Poul Ruders, and its meta references to technological sound production, gospel, jazz, choral chanting and sinister jingoism, are mixed into complex atonal displays of bravado, was gripping and carried the misery aloft its structured wings, allowing the narrative to be explored with a foundation of musical profuseness accented with delicious multifaceted percussion and underscored by threatening brass.

The simple sets from Annemarie Woods suggest repurposed stadiums and vast Evangelical churches. They are an exploration of lighting and curtain pleats – never has so much pleated drapery done so much for so little. But the saft palate of non offensive curtains add a sinister edge of institutional clinical performance to the vast stages, offering no privacy in this panoptic dystopia and allows full focus on the characters and their hideous situations. Paule Constable’s precise lighting pinpoints the action in forensic clarity.

Full synopsis here

Kate Lindsey returns in this revival to the role of Offred – her mezzo-soprano full of clarity, pure diction and instinctual texture. She was amazing. Avery Amereau‘s performance of the conflicted, complex Serena Joy – trapped by bareness and circumstance – was subtle and tragic – a supressed foil to the rolling majesty and entitlement of James Creswell‘s Commande. Rachel Nicholls‘ Aunt Lydia spoils for a fight, her nasty bullying savagery matched by her soaring, cutting voice. Nadine Benjamin’s Moira was eye-arresting – keeping herself the anchor of normality, offering radical hope through her boundless love.

The ENO Womens Chorus here are superb, utterly transfixing the audience with their fearful mob and tremulous desperate searching for contact. The show is worth seeing just for their touch perfect panoptic performance, choreographed to the hilt, their voices, feelings and futures brutally hammered into one, portraying the plight of women in this horror show of a fallen American.

Opening using the epilogue from the book, with a far-future presentation on the ‘fall of Gilead’, Juliette Stevenson was uber swish, literally gleaming in an angelic white trouser suit with sharp pressed trousers introducing us to the context. In the book this person is a non-binary First Nations professor ‘Pieixoto’  from an Arctic university, suggesting a triumph of diversity and inclusion over the bigotries of Gilead’s repression but in an utterly changed world, of devastated physical geography and personal identities.

With her eloquent vocal tones and perfect hair, Stevenson is Little Miss WASP, the stalls and my companion in particular swooning at her minimalist, glamorous presence each time she wafted on and off stage. An interesting choice of casting, giving real star quality to the night, but diminishing, perhaps, Atwood’s academic framing of the narrative. My companion was thrilled by Stevenson, and she was a real hit with the crowd.

Costumes show clear hierarchies by quality of clothing and style and give a subtle industrial horror to the night. A line up of Wives in sharp electric blue contrasting with the drab beiges of the Handmaids, their pallet of blue shoes stepping across the misery and brutality of their attitude, the famous Handmaids’ poke bonnets becoming something brutally bespoke, reclaimed and removed as status and usage of these subjugated women changed.

With attacks on reproductive rights, women’s equality and gender equity becoming shriller by the day, this revival is a great move, striking the zeitgeist by ENO to shore up its base and attract new and more diverse audiences.

The ENO offers a full range of ticket options, starting from £10, so check out how you can go along and see this extremely effective revival.

Recommended. Until February 15, various dates. Guidance 15+

For more info or to book tickets see the ENO’s website here

 

REVIEW: ‘The Faggots and Their Friends Between Revolutions’ @ Southbank Centre

Review by Eric Page; lead photo by Tristram Kenton

This a queer allegory, with an earnest ‘Radical Faeries’ type feel about it, reaching out across metaphor to grasp at common LGBTQ+ histories that bind us together into a rag tag community. It starts as a fall from grace. The Faggots, The Women and Their Friends (including the women who love women and the faggatinas) are living in an idyll of perfection before some of the Faggots degenerate into (hetro) Men.

These Men become the oppressive forces of self-denial, greed and violence who destroy the delicate balance of this mythical perfect world and drive the Faggots and their Friends out into the margins, shadows, and crepuscular gutters of the world, where they scrape by, existing as ghosts in this Monstrous Man Machine of Oppression. The word ‘Faggot’ is constant, its harsh prickly skin abraded by the relentless beauty of sung voice until it peels away to offer a different meaning, a soft seed of claimed back proudness.

photographer Camilla Greenwell

Adapted for the stage by Ted Huffman and Philip Venables, this is retelling of history, via interpretation and performance of  Larry Mitchell’s 70s ‘Queer’ manifesto of radical community change via transforming ideas of gender politics and love, written when he was part of the Lavender Hill queer commune in New York.

The struggles of generations of queers is explored and boiled down in this crucible of pain and subjugation, leaving crystals of hard-earned wisdom glittering for those brave enough to reach in, or those with sharp enough elbows to grasp at this brutal truth. It’s centred on queerness, we are the focus of the story, and this POV allows the narrative to stay thrillingly positive, embedded in hope.

The fourth wall is a mist here, the troupe gliding in, out, round and though it as if phantasmagoria, aware of us, desperate to touch us, but leaving us, or me at the very least, curiously untouched. For all its need to compress deep truths into marvellous mythologies and fairytales to inspire, I’m left feeling detached. My companion is weeping in the first segment, fidgeting by halfway and utterly absorbed again for the ending. It’s that type of show, reaching in and pulling out reactions from the audience, a very fierce queer audience.

Musically it’s a delight from start to finish and the music underpins this show, allowing the narrative to glide and slip, occasionally veer off the road completely, but ever-present, ever-changing selection of musical styles and superbly played instruments brings it firmly back on track. There’s a rehearsal quality to the set and music, an almost Baroque improvisation feel to it, with counter tenor and choir, harp and accordion, solos and saxophone all joining briefly for a flurry of intersection.

The troupe waft, tumble, race, chase, slump, and bump in all forms of gymnastic contortions in a constant flurry of movement, not all of it has a point, but perhaps that was the point, to suggest a psychological diaspora, a spiritual displacement, a searching for somewhere over the pain hued rainbows of history.

Full cast and creative info here 

This is our story, whatever part of the LGBTQ+ cloth your warp is from, this is your mythos threaded through the sharp weft of history, our blood makes the patterns, the denial of our truth is the well-worn threadbare marks of use by the patriarchal forces who shudder now under our trumpets of authenticity. The show is an essential reminder that our battle is not rooted in the here and now, but in the hearts of humanity.

Photographer Camilla Greenwell

The final segment, exploring brutality and cycles of violence, is done with balletic grace, a seated circle watch as racers chase each other to both dish out and take punishment. There’s some irony here but it’s mostly earnest, the stage drops to darkness. Leaving us unsure of the end.

There are some beautiful performances from the cast and occasional missed lines particularly during the ‘sing along’, keeping with the folksy feel. Overall, it was a softly radical reflective piece, some good harsh jokes pointed at our consumerist elitist culture, beautiful allegories to remind us of who we are and the constant pairing of musical talents and instruments displaying the harmonic beauty of diversity and a reminder that only by reaching out for human connection, by building communities, by engendering respect can we hope to build a better world.

This retelling and centring of queer history is touching and worth catching, it’s a searing read of patriarchy and the audience buzzed as they left, entertained but unapologetically, magically, queered up by these faggots and their friends.

The Faggots and Their Friends Between Revolutions is at Queen Elizabeth Hall, Southbank Centre, London until January 28. 

To book tickets or for more info see their website here:

REVIEW: Twelve Angry Men @ Theatre Royal Brighton 

Review by Eric Page

Reginald Rose’s courtroom thriller is full of mature male TV soap opera actors allowing you to relax and enjoy this intricate examination of the different presentations of masculinity and their interactions with class and culture in 1950s New York.  

The story is simple, a jury has murder on their minds and a life in their hands as they decide the fate of a young delinquent accused of killing his father. But what appears to be an open and shut case soon becomes a huge dilemma, as prejudices and preconceived ideas about the accused are explored and interrogated, expectations about the trial examined, and deeply ingrained attitudes to each other contribute to turn the tables every which way, with the tension building steadily through to the denouement.  

The trial itself is background to this exploration of bias, prejudice, resentment, role models, deferment, mob mentality, education, emotional expressions, and status in this randomly selected group of 12 men. Most of whom are angry with themselves, or the wider world, but are led, though quiet, careful questions from one man of principal and doubt, to question their morals and values. 

Patrick Duffy serves up a quiet, reflective convincing ‘good man’ performance. Both fascinating and keeping the focus on the slow, deliberate action, he’s also the only one not pulling the vintage Neu Yawk accent, being offered up by half of the cast in a rather shouty manner, but this is angry men mode, we get it.  

Written as a rebuttal to the lynch mob hysteria of the McCarthy era there are lessons for us all today in standing up for our gut ethical instincts and not being swayed by being the only voice of soft reason in a crowd of loud people ‘like us’ determined to shout us down or bully us into silence.   

The set, of one small stifling room, is a lovely piece of deconstructed Brownstone architecture with some cute weather effects on the large windows which plainly frame the action. There is a sly revolve on the stage which literally turns the main central table that the men sit and move around as the attitudes themselves shift within the room. Lighting and sound scapes are subtle and add to the ambience, and the ‘Mad Men’ costumes are perfect, with a lot of fine detail.  

Worth a peep if you like a courtroom drama and want to see a melange of male soap actors turn in some fine performances. It’s an interesting twist to the genre, looking at why we make our minds up, and what and who can influence us to decide what’s right, and what’s wrong. The play is still relevant, despite its 1950s setting, with dialogue which is fierce and passionate, cutting straight to the heart of the issues of civil liberties and social justice that still challenge us, our attitudes to each other and our legal systems today.   

Twelve Angry Men is showing at Theatre Royal Brighton till Saturday, November 26. 

Full details and to book tickets via the Theatre Royal Booking site here 

BOOK REVIEW: ‘From Mohair Suits to Kinky Boots’ by Geoff Deane

Review by Eric Page

This is the glorious chatty, indiscrete, but always humble tale of life lived in every way possible, a winding collection of uproarious and often moving stories spanning 60 years of Geoff Deane‘s life (so far) pulled together and shared during lockdown in a series of very funny online vignettes.

Growing up in London as a clothes obsessed Jewish suede head in Tottenham dancehalls, via straight Bowie boy frequenting London’s gay clubs, gender confusion in Manhattan’s Studio 54, and on to huge career success as a screenwriter. This memoir, told in vivid detail with plenty of small touches to bring the stories to real life, is a joy to read.

Deane has had a remarkably wide set of experiences and careers, he’s been a kitchen porter at Jewish functions, flogged suits down Brick Lane market, sang in culty punk band the Leyton Buzzards then segued to a floppy-haired pop star in Modern Romance. In 1984 he penned gay anthem You Think You’re a Man? for drag icon Divine, wrote for The Face and Arena and is author of Kinky Boots, the Tony Award-winning Broadway stage show.

The book captures his audacious ride through life in the kind of candid detail that people often leave for posthumous memoirs, so it’s all the more fun to hear Deane’s sometimes bashful, always celebratory take on his own riotous experiences. He’s good at serving context, reflecting on his own behaviour, then and now, and being as respectful as possible to people who are dragged along in his steeplechase life, but it’s all about the laughs.

He writes in glorious London prose, cockney slang and Yiddish, he’s blunt but polished like a well-loved brass knuckleduster, throw in some Polari and an agile ability to record the vocal diversity of the communities he’s living in with a candid forthright manner and this man’s a charm. He’s the one you sit next to on the train and end up joining him for a drink or ten in a late-night dive bar in whatever town you end up in. This is British raconteur at its best, exploring class, culture, fame and infinite diverse fortune with humour.

Deane’s a rascal and knows it, he’s also fun and deeply kind and not adverse to stepping up when there’s some facing off to do. Skipping though this instantly recognisable world, he drops famous names like fag buts, but it’s the content of the stories attached which are the joy here. Not celebrity for the sake of it, but brazen, glorious, joyful living life.

The book made me laugh out loud and left me smiling, it’s such a good natured, positive romp and Deane’s the kind of mate we all need in our life. To keep us on our toes and remind us of the possibilities and opportunities that a little cheeky charm can bring our way.

This is a tale of a fortunate life, grasped and wrung out, told with self-depreciating humour by a man with some considerable insight into his own and the wider world’s bullshit, and is a splendid book.

Out now £8.99

For more info or to order the book see the publisher’s website here:

 

 

 

 

REVIEW: Everybody’s Talking About Jamie @ Theatre Royal Brighton

Review by Eric Page

Inspired by the true story of a young gay man banned from attending his prom in a dress, feel-good musical Everybody’s Talking About Jamie has proved a hit on the West End since opening in 2017. This new tour continues the high octane engagement of the original show and tells the story of Jamie New, a 16-year-old, tall, different, shy lad who lives on a council estate in Sheffield, does his best to study, keep his friendships honest, be as true to himself as he can, and cope with the pressures of growing up gay in a single parent household. Jamie knows he’s different, but grasps that that is power unfocused, and although fearful of what the future might hold, he knows, just knows, that he’s going to be a sensation.

As the story unfolds and prom at school gets closer, we see him blossom under the careful mentoring of Loco Chanel, a believable portrait from John Partridge of a lost drag act and drag mother. The unconditional love and support from Jamie’s brilliant, loving mum allows him to dream, but also protects him from harsh truths he needs to learn to grow. Surrounded by his friends, and family friend Ray (Shobna Gulati) – a fierce female warrior and virtual co-parent for Jamie – he overcomes prejudice, develops into his full brilliance, finds his fierce drag heart, calls out and beats the bullies and steps out of the darkness, with careful intent into the spotlight he’s craved.

This is a coming of age but not coming out Jamie, who is already ‘out’ at the beginning, and very happy with that. The main narrative rubbed up against the experience of every queer person and gay man in the audience of which there were quite a few, along with some glamorous drag people of note, in and out of sequinned fabulousness. It’s a triumphant trumpeting of gender diversity, celebrating untrammelled queerness as the core of being.

It’s very soft focus in places, and the small-minded teacher, father and bullies don’t really get their comeuppance, but then it’s not their story, so being sidelined is perhaps the point. Jamie endures, grows, and becomes his authentic self. The tender friendship between outsiders Jamie and Pritti (Talia Palamathanan) give insight and emotional connection to this foundational teenage relationship. The relationships between a young queer man and the women around him who strive and sacrifice to nurture him, echo many of our own experiences growing up.

My companion commented on how the dancing was superb and really kept their attention. This a seriously slick troupe of lithe dancers who perform energetic dances of complex, contemporary, referenced dancing with real energy and pizzazz, the choreography from Kate Prince is to be celebrated along with the performers themselves. The wholly original music from Dan Gillespie Sells gives this musical its throbbing, steadfast engine, keeping the flow of tension, story, and resolution firmly under control.

Jamie is played with tenderness and modest conviction by Ivano Turco, the audience warming to them. Shobna Gulati turning in a polished, hard-as-nails, been-there-done-it, soulful Northern woman and landed the laughs flawlessly. Rebecca Mckinnis, the other main female lead as Jamie’s mother, keeps her emotional energy steady until bringing the house down and drawing the whole show together with her volcanic act two solo He’s My Boy, the standout moment of the evening.

The supporting cast are excellent, hopping on and off, with some decidedly camp cameos from the drag queens, it’s always a deliciously odd clash of culture – school musical and Priscilla Queen of Canal Street – but there’s much humour to be mined of this Northern cultural clash, its warm and welcoming heart always visible.

Full cast and creative list here

I felt curiously untouched by the emotional narrative of protagonist Jamie but was kept engaged and entertained by the energetic dancing and fast pacing of production director Jonathan Butterell working within the limits of this stretched fabric to make the very best of the talent on stage. The drag moments brought surreal relief, but also referenced some reassuring eternalness of queer cultures. I reflected on this generational musical of queerness, absorbed on mentoring and protecting each other, hidden in plain sight.

The glamorous audience and their friends loved it and sashayed out into the rainy October Brighton night bubbling with heart warming chatter, content with a show they’d enjoyed.

 

At Theatre Royal Brighton until Saturday, November 11. 

For more info or to buy tickets see the Theatre Royal Website here:

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