I missed the run of this back in 2019, so it's a delight to have a chance to catch this in a perfectly cast revival, done with care, intimacy, skill, and gentle power. A series of 7 monologues, originally prepared in 2017 as both a TV program on BBC 4 and a series of performances at the old vic on the 50th anniversary of the 1967 Sexual Offences act, which decrimalised homosexual acts in private, Queers has five men and 2 women telling stories from 1917 to 2016 of desire, of personal revelation, of internal torments and their public expressions, somewhat along the line of Alan Bennet's beloved "Talking Heads" series - where the subtext of what the character can't quite say out loud rings loud and true. Mark Gatiss from the comedy team "The League of Gentlemen" and occasional "Doctor Who" and "Sherlock" writer selected and curated the monologues, writing the first of them and working with the rest of the writers to find a mix of perspectives on a century bisected by a piece of legislation - about the progress we have and haven't made, and about how this has affected a range of individuals.
Steph Roberts and Jarrad West's production brings them together in a timeless pub, "The Princes Arms", with us gathered around at the various tables. The performers are scattered around the venue - at the piano, Louiza Blomfield and Callum Tolhurst-Close (no relation to me as far as I know) sing-and-play a song of the era where the next story takes place, before transitioning to an intimate monologue. Each of the performers immediately grab our attention and don't let it go for around 20 minutes (those who can do maths will realise immediately with 7 performers at 20 minutes each plus a song and a short break between performers, this is a longish evening, though it never really feels like it during any of the monologues).
We start with Alexander Hoskinson's soldier in 1917, looking back on his youth and an early encounter, and a recent experience of near desire, told sensatively and engrossingly - his Perce is pure innocent sweetness and we take him immediately to heart. Next it's 1929 and Natasha Vickery tells of a desire that carefully conceals itself - Vickery presents as brash, not-quite-as-confident-as-she'd-like-to-appear, telling secrets about her adventures in seeking personal pleasures in a risky world. In 1957, Karen Vickery tells the story of a wife finding out things about her husband and what she's able to accommodate within her marriage, in a perfectly presented boozy yarn. In 1967 we have Geoffrey Borny sharing the secret world that is soon to pass with legalisation with regret (and those of us who remember his appearance in "Cassanova" around a decade ago get a reminder how entertaining Borny is when he's completely filthy). 1987 shows Joel Horwood as a struggling actor challenged by the nature of gay representation in the middle of a pandemic - there's a perfect mix here between the actor's personal ego and the wider political context of the world around them and Horwoods' restless performance captures it with exquisite tension. In 1994 Patrick Galen-Mules plays a young man realising the power of community and his own sexuality in the middle of a political disappointment with a mix of joy, shyness and naivete (he's also the only performer who doesn't move from their spot during the monologue - presumably because at 17, he can't go to the bar for a drink, but his endearing shyness draws you in). In the closing monologue in 2016, Joe Dinn gives us pure queer joy as a groom preparing for his wedding day - he's a goofy charming presence.
Introducing each act is Louiza Blomfield's perfect voice singing, first as a charming lounge singer, then later as the era gets closer adopting more the mode of an enthusiastic kareoke-er, in stunning outfits appropriate to each era.
There's a great mix of subtly effective lighting by Stephen Still and interweaved sound effects to highten the monologues from Nathan Patrech, adding power to the evening.
This is a beautiful production of a show that is completely up my alley, both in terms of its celebration of actors and of the socio-political nature of the stories being told, and I hope it's up your alley too.
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