★★½

“tackles some fascinating and thorny issues revolving around queer relationships, but its execution is shallow”

Question: ‘Did you ever sleep with anyone else, during the 7 (and a half) years we were together?’

Answer: I hated A Little Life

End Scene

What? That’s not profund? It just makes no sense.

Jake Brunger’s Four Play, as the name suggests, is about the colliding sex lives of gay couple, Rafe (Lewis Cornay) and Pete (Zheng Xi Yong), with Michael (Daniel Bravo)– the ‘hot one’ – and his partner, Andy (Jo Foster). It opens with Rafe and Pete propositioning Michael to sleep with both of them individually, so they can experience sex with other men, having only ever been monogamous with each other. Psst, don’t tell Andy.

Directed by Jack Sain, Four Play’s first act is promising, especially the allure of the opening sequence, in which the three men dance about with exercise balls. Michael quickly agrees to the proposal of one-time sex, and the play follows the devolution of the intertwined relationships between the four.

The second act, however, disintegrated more dramatically than any of the relationships. The primary diagnosis for Four Play is bad writing. Filtered through cliché, the characters are undeveloped which makes it near impossible to provoke interest in their sex lives and their secret liaisons. I don’t take pleasure in devaluing a play that confronts stereotypes about gay men, but this piece felt symptomatic of some of the most depressing facets of our epoch. Though there is ostensible exploration of the emotional tangle of queer open relationships, Andy – supposedly the injured party – is vapid and uncritical, cloaking ignorance with some worthy diatribe against the apparent pretentiousness of liking Ottolenghi and Chablis. That is one of the alarming facets: anti-pretentiousness. Anti-pretentiousness, in this case, is just anti-intellectualism promenading as social commentary.

The actors do their best with the material. Foster is spritely and contrasts well with Bravo’s aloof composure. Cornay is endearing in his awkwardness, also in contrast to the corporate soullessness of Pete. Set and costume design (Peiyao Wang) are highlights, especially Foster’s outfits. The interior décor is suitably chic and modern, complementing the piece’s tone.

The overriding message of the play, Brunger holds, is to respect your partner and always be honest. But there is no plausible redemptive arc for these characters, and they all remain objectionable. The relationships felt symptomatic of our societal objection to feeling and to difficult emotion in the name of ‘protecting our peace’. Not one of these characters have an engaged conversation: they just talk at each other and leave. No one is changed by the end.

Theatre doesn’t have to be radical or revolutionary, but it should be observational in some way; usually, it observes convention from an unconventional lens – in this case, we have sex, monogamy, and ‘modern’ relationships from a non-heteronormative lens. But it lacks nuance. The rusting away of a woman’s ovaries is casually dropped for humour; Hitler and Nazi uniforms as a kink are mentioned in poor taste; metaphors obscure rather than elucidate. At one point, Andy, with lustre, says ‘Spiders are scary. Terrorism is scary. Cancer is really scary. Monogamy?’ As if monogamy could only be held in opposition to these three wildly divergent examples of scariness and thus be deemed unscary. But monogamy can – and perhaps should – be intimidating, and that’s a fascinating discourse in itself, not to be undermined.

Four Play tackles some fascinating and thorny issues revolving around queer relationships, but its execution is shallow.

THE GANG OF THREE

King’s Head Theatre

★★★★

“At the centre of director Kirsty Patrick Ward’s bitchy and erudite psychodrama are three rounded and convincing performances”

The occasional soundtrack behind this formidable political drama tells of a nation undergoing change, from the raucous rock of the early ’70s to the chaotic onslaught of punk and New Wave as the ’80s approach.

But inside Libby Watson’s evocative set – all dusty books, leather sofas, and drinks trolleys – the same argument goes round and round.

Three giants of the Labour movement – Tony Crosland, Roy Jenkins, Denis Healey – all pals from war-time Oxford – cannot fathom how to seize the leadership of their party and the country.

It’s right there for the taking, if only they can agree on who should carry the flame.

With such a prize will come influence for generations. Think: no Margaret Thatcher; the leftist tendency put to the sword; no third party politics.

But these towering figures are also – and perhaps more so – towering egos and none will relinquish their claim.

In the end, the prize is lost.

In writers Robert Khan and Tom Salinksky’s reckoning, the what-ifs fly like shrapnel through the years.

That is not to suggest these three upholstered middle-aged men were on the outside. No, they were close to power, becoming the embodiment of the privileged elite. Roy Jenkins, the father of the permissive ’60s, Denis Healey, arguably the last truly charismatic chancellor, and – brightest of them all – Tony Crosland and his seminal thinking on the future of socialism.

And yet, the prize eluded them and was granted to lesser men, in their eyes. They marvel, at one point, how the hard left stole the party after the 1979 election defeat simply because Tony Benn and Michael Foot did a deal that avoided splitting the vote, a feat the magnificent minds of The Gang of Three simply couldn’t pull off. For years.

As Healey says at one point, “We are all children wearing our fathers’ clothes, hoping no-one will notice.”

They know their fate is to sink together, to cancel each other out, but still they cling to old disputes while the country moves on.

At the centre of director Kirsty Patrick Ward’s bitchy and erudite psychodrama are three rounded and convincing performances, not impressions but capturing the spirit of those mighty figures.

Alan Cox is Crosland, all camp teasing and frivolity; booming Colin Tierney captures the avuncular yet menacing manoeuvrings of Denis Healey; while Hywel Morgan has the hunched-up physicality (and the mispronounced Rs) of the uptight, humourless Roy Jenkins, so desperate to run a party, he eventually founded his own.

In the brisk, knowing script we jump from April 1972, just as Jenkins throws his toys out of the pram and resigns the deputy leadership, to the mournful 1980 post-mortem, Thatcher in power for a generation and Jenkins still plotting to claim the liberal throne.

By then Crosland is dead at 58, his stellar potential left unfulfilled.

There is an unfortunate flashback to 1940, suggesting a homosexual fling between Jenkins and Crosland, but beyond that, the play never puts a foot wrong. The script is dense with argument about the difficult politics of the left but all is handled with a deft and playful touch.

To those who were there, it is an exciting tribute to great men of charisma in an age of titans – and to those too young to remember, it serves as a reminder that nothing – least of all fratricide – is new in politics.

The Gang of Three is an accomplished and satisfying work, with polished performances, a witty script, endless gins and a cascade of awkward truths that are still relevant today.

FOUR PLAY

King’s Head Theatre

★★½

“tackles some fascinating and thorny issues revolving around queer relationships, but its execution is shallow”

FOUR PLAY

King’s Head Theatre

Reviewed on 16th July 2025

by Violet Howson

Photography by Jack Sain

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:

FOUR PLAY

FOUR PLAY

FOUR PLAY

THE GANG OF THREE

King’s Head Theatre

★★★★

“At the centre of director Kirsty Patrick Ward’s bitchy and erudite psychodrama are three rounded and convincing performances”

THE GANG OF THREE

King’s Head Theatre

Reviewed on 6th May 2025

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Manuel Harlan

Previously reviewed at this venue:

THE GANG OF THREE

THE GANG OF THREE

THE GANG OF THREE

JOIN US