“Wynter’s script is light footed and fast paced, packed with witty one liners, but unafraid of sombre, more human moments”
Black Superhero is a fresh and exciting exploration of black queer love, and representation, which effortlessly manages to straddle the personal and political.
David (played by writer Danny Lee Wynter) is a struggling actor, trying to stay true to his principals about black queer representation, but also trying to pay the rent. He is in love with his best friend, King (Dyllón Burnside) and King has just opened his marriage. However, what unfolds is not a love story, but a power struggle of hero-worship, self-loathing and the inevitable spiral into dark and familiar places.
Wynter’s script is light footed and fast paced, packed with witty one liners, but unafraid of sombre, more human moments. While questions of representation, particularly about whether queer actors should play queer parts, and queer baiting, do dominate the discussion, they are handled lightly. There are no tired and long-winded explanations, this is a play which expects a level of knowledge from its audience. As such it can dabble in the conversation, without getting weighed down by it. Also, it’s very funny. The biting satire of the white characters had the audience groaning, wincing and cackling. Yet the emotional connections felt real, and the depictions of joy were a pleasure. At one point David, speaking about the film Moonlight, comments on a lack of representation of queer joy. It is striking how much laughter (especially in the first half) does dominate the characters’ interactions.
Daniel Evans’ direction allows the play to bridge fantasy and reality but remain grounded in the present. The presence of an actual superhero on stage is bold, and at times a little clunky, but when it works, it works very well. There is a hilarious moment where superheroes in garish costumes are suspended in mid-air, parroting the ridiculous exposition all too familiar in blockbuster sci-fi. There is also an incredible moment where David is enveloped by a giant cape, occupying most of the stage.
Rochenda Sandall as David’s sister Syd was a real standout. She navigated the complex emotional role with energy and passion. She was both moving and hilarious.
Joanna Scotcher’s set is dynamic and futuristic. A huge metallic screen takes up much of the stage, made up of intersecting triangles whose borders occasionally glow (thanks to Ryan Day’s thoughtful lighting design). This screen bursts apart to reveal a bedroom, a party and at one point an intergalactic meeting spot. Sometimes though it means the action is cramped onto a small part of the stage, making it uncertain whether the set dominated some of the directorial decisions. There is one particular set piece, involving a waterfall made of sand, which is striking and beautiful and incredibly memorable.
While it’s true that the play loses steam a bit in the second half, it is original and somehow manages to have a new angle on questions of representation. In terms of representation itself, it is interesting how revolutionary it feels to see three gay black men kissing on stage. And also, crucially, being allowed to laugh, as well as cry.
“Mind Full is funny, but sometimes feels uncertain”
This intimate comedy takes a look at two universal frustrations: struggling to sleep and struggling to get over someone.
James (Tom Hartwell) is a self-diagnosed insomniac. He knows he is because he Googled it at 4am. He hasn’t slept well since his terrible break up, six months ago. In his desperation he turns to mindfulness apps. But his ex is a thriving voiceover actor. He can’t get her voice out of his head. Or his headphones. At first it seems to be just him who’s struggling, but we soon learn Claire (Katherine Moran) can’t sleep either. The former couple cycle through memories of their failed relationship as they struggle to move on and find some much needed shut eye.
We’re welcomed into the bedroom, with the space being dominated by a large double bed, and off to the side, a microphone. Conor Cook’s direction really pays off here, as the microphone creates the world of the couple’s respective work (voice acting and stand-up comedy) and the bed creates their private world. The interference and sabotage between these worlds, sometimes funny, sometimes moving, works well to show the crumbling of the relationship.
It’s a funny idea, and there are moments where it really takes off There’s a long bit where James comments on all of the places he hears Claire’s voice – apps, supermarket checkouts, train announcements – and what she might be saying to him (lots of jokes at the expense of his sexual prowess). The script, written by Tom Hartwell, who also plays James, is packed with gags. At times though the comedy takes priority, to the detriment of emotional truth. To be fair, sometimes that’s the point. The play deals with questions around comedy, and how much of your own life, and the lives of people you love, is fair game. As with any piece which incorporates stand-up, it does raise the question of how much of it is meant to be funny. There is a mortifying moment where James fluffs it at Live at the Apollo, made weirder by the taped in applause of a fake audience, leaving the real audience a little uncertain of our place in the show.
There is real chemistry between Hartwell and Moran, and the early stages of their relationship are charming. Moran is particularly strong, making a potentially whiny character, warm, hilarious and totally reasonable. Hartwell is also very funny, and his comic timing is impeccable.
The simple lighting (Jonathan Simpson) and sound (Conor Cook) help to create the private bubble of this couple’s life.
Mind Full is funny, but sometimes feels uncertain. It’s not quite stand-up, and not quite plot focussed narrative, at times it verges on sketch comedy. But it’s enjoyable, fast-paced and well-performed.
