★★

“it remains an interesting and worthwhile history lesson”

Jenny lives with Eric and Martin was just another children’s book in 1988. It wasn’t new and wasn’t even originally British, as it had first been published in Copenhagen in 1982. So how did this book become the starting point of a campaign, which ultimately led to the inclusion of Section 28 within the Local Government Act of 1988? After the Act is an entertaining musical, which tells the story of Section 28 through the eyes of those most closely affected.

‘Section 28’ refers to a specific clause with the Local Government Act of 1988, which prohibited schools from ‘promoting’ homosexuality, the wording of which was ambiguous enough that it resulted in the restriction of teaching of the acceptability of homosexuality, particularly concerning family relationships.

It is a strange era to look back on. Views that would be considered to be politically extreme nowadays were front and centre and were actually winning the argument. An imaginary enemy had been conjured up, largely driven by ignorance and misunderstanding. After the Act explores this period of recent history from multiple vital perspectives: teachers who could not speak up for risk of jeopardising their careers, students for whom bullying and discrimination had become a part of their everyday existence and the activists who fought hard to educate people and bring about real change.

The play splits fairly evenly into two halves. In the first act, we see the build-up to the passing of the Act in 1988. The tone is set clearly early in the play. People’s concerns about gay people are not challenged, whereas protestors are dismissed as mad rabble-rousers. Two scenes stand out in the first act. The first is where protestors have made it on the news at 6 on the BBC but are being silenced (fitting for the time) to not disrupt the broadcast. The second is the re-enactment of protestors abseiling into the House of Lords following the passing of the bill. These scenes are excellently written (Billy Barrett and Ellice Stevens) paying tribute to the real-life activists involved.

The second act covers the aftermath to the passing of the Act before it was eventually repealed in 2003, detailing the experiences of people who had to live through this time period and how it affected them well beyond the law had been changed. This should be the point where it all comes together. However, the biggest issue is the contradiction between its comedic elements and the hard-hitting truths that it wishes to divulge. The tone of most of the first act is strangely uplifting and funny, which is maintained through to the start of the second act, when one of the performers enters the stage dressed as Margaret Thatcher and sings as the former Prime Minister.

The individual elements of the play are interesting and well-performed, and all of the cast display an impressive range as they move from character to character bringing to life more people’s stories from this period. However, these parts often work against each other without a clear link to the central narrative, rather appearing more like a slide show of different characters.

Keyboard and drums add a lively accompaniment to the performances on stage. Sadly, the backing music and use of songs is often overdone and is too much of an ‘ever-present’ during the show rather peaking for significant moments, which does make it a little tiring, giving the show an impression of ‘more bark than bite’. Overall, despite its flaws as a production, it remains an interesting and worthwhile history lesson, which deserves to be taught.

CRY-BABY, THE MUSICAL

Arcola Theatre

★★★★★

“Feel-good is the understatement of the year where this show is concerned”

‘It’s a beautiful day for an anti-polio picnic’. So begins the new all-singing, all-dancing “Cry-Baby, The Musical”. This is no surprise if you are armed with the knowledge that the musical is based on the transgressive filmmaker John Waters’ 1990 film. Mark O’Donnell and Thomas Meehan have written the book, with David Javerbaum and Adam Schlesinger providing the songs. Directed by the Arcola Theatre’s artistic director, Mehmet Ergen, it bursts onto the London stage with an effervescent eccentricity that Waters would be proud of with all his screwball heart.

A couple of words of advice. Leave your expectations at home, along with any judgements, preconceptions or theatrical snobbery. Don’t read the programme notes – the ones that allude to the show dealing with issues of class-based injustices, political relevance, privilege, demonisation… blah blah blah. It really isn’t that deep. Yes, they’re all in there somewhere, cleverly hidden in hilarious, blink-and-you-miss one-liners, but the trick is to just wallow in the whole explosion of joy that this show bombards you with. The story is as shallow as they come. A kind of ‘Grease’ meets ‘Jailhouse Rock’ – but better than both put together. It is 1954. Communism is the big taboo. Wade “Cry-Baby” Walker is the coolest kid in town. He’s a rebel with a cause. A bad guy – though we kind of twig pretty quickly that he’s not really. Allison is the strait-laced rich girl who crosses to the wrong side of the tracks, drawn to his irresistible flame. Forbidden love and teen rebellion run rife while society moral values are turned upside down.

Adam Davidson plays the eponymous ‘Cry-Baby’. His name derives from the fact that he hasn’t cried since his parents died and he was orphaned at a young age (we learn the circumstances of his mum and dad’s tragic demise later). He is the leader of the ‘Drapes’, a misfit crew of baddies with whom the ‘Squares’ (to which Lulu-Mae Pears’ clean-cut Allison belongs) are in awe of, yet fear, in equal measure. Allison has been brought up by her grandmother, the (seemingly) upright Mrs Cordelia Vernon-Williams (Shirley Jameson). Surrounded by a magnificent kaleidoscope of colourful characters, all performed by an even more magnificent cast, the narrative roller-coasts through picnics, self-awareness days, song contests, arson attacks, prison, escape, freedom, atonement, justice, hard-won-love… right up to its preposterously upbeat finale. All the while our smiles get wider and wider, the laughs get stronger, and our toe-tapping turns into all-out body shaking. Feel-good is the understatement of the year where this show is concerned.

The score must have been one of the easiest to write. There’s irony in that statement, but a snippet of truth too. The entire set list is pure pastiche. The chord structures have been handed to Javerbaum and Schlesinger on a plate. Each song is instantly recognisable, yet bizarrely unique. It’s the lyrics that can take the credit – insanely clever, witty and poignant. The writers are masters of rhyming and scanning, and the performers deliver faultlessly. We are transported back to the fifties with the genre defining songs: the close-knit harmonies of ‘Squeaky Clean’, or the rockabilly rhythms of ‘Jukebox Jamboree’. Ballads such as ‘Misery’ and ‘I’m Infected’ tug at our teenage heartstrings and rekindle the memories of our misspent teenage years. The bar is high, but there still manage to be highlights. Shirley Jameson’s ‘Did Something Wrong Once’ threatens to bring the house down, as does Chad Saint Louis (who plays bad boy Dupree) every time he opens his mouth, and lungs. Davidson and Pears smash every number they sing. The ensemble players are, without exception, exceptional. Eleanor Walsh, in particular, as Lenora Frigid (don’t blame me – I didn’t name the characters), whose solo number ‘Screw Loose’ defines her perfectly. Bonkers? Yes! Virtuosic? Without doubt! And how can you fail to enjoy a musical that includes song titles such as ‘Girl Can I Kiss You with Tongues?’ Forget the phrase ‘from the sublime to the ridiculous’. This show combines the too. Ridiculous? Yes! Sublime? Without a doubt!

You don’t need a big stage to create a spectacle. Chris Whittaker’s choreography shifts the walls outwards, playing with scale and creating deceptively big routines. Meticulously period yet innovative, it encapsulates the show’s energy and sense of fun. Shades of Jerome Robbins in no way eclipse Whittaker’s own individuality. Like every element of the show, familiarity and peculiarity dance side by side.

The finale number – a rousing ‘Nothing Bad’ – sums it up. “Cry-Baby, The Musical” is two hours of star-spangled fun. You’d be a cry-baby to miss it (I know…!). All I can say is ‘be there… or be square’.

AFTER THE ACT

Royal Court

★★

“it remains an interesting and worthwhile history lesson”

AFTER THE ACT

Royal Court

Reviewed on 27th May 2025

by Luke Goscomb

Photography by Alex Brenner

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:

AFTER THE ACT

AFTER THE ACT

AFTER THE ACT

CRY-BABY, THE MUSICAL

Arcola Theatre

★★★★★

“Feel-good is the understatement of the year where this show is concerned”

CRY-BABY, THE MUSICAL

Arcola Theatre

Reviewed on 12th March 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Charlie Flint

Previously reviewed at this venue:

CRY-BABY

CRY-BABY

CRY-BABY

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