“Loud, brash and camp as hell, but not without a sprinkling of heart, tenderness and passion”
January is a dreary old month. The frivolities of Christmas and New Year are a long distant memory. The cold and drizzly rain is disheartening. The short wintry days are a-dragging. But Happily Ever Poofter is here to put some sparkle, sass and serious fierceness into your life. Panto season may just be over, but this foul-mouthed, fairytale/Disney mash up is a delightfully dirty alternative.
Prince Henry comes from a magical kingdom Far Far Away. His main job is to find true love with a beautiful princess, get married, blah, blah, blah, we know the rest. But something the kingdom doesn’t know, is that their handsome prince is in fact… gay (gasp!). Henry is miserable keeping his secret locked in tight, he hates that there’s no one like him around. He wants to go somewhere he can fit in. With the help of his Fairy Godfather, his wish is granted and finds himself transported to the mystical ‘gay scene’. With men after men, parties galore, and the odd “sniff, puff, drink,” Henry seems to be living his gay dream. But not all is what it seems. Finding a happy ever after still proves difficult, and so, Henry’s quest for true love becomes an even tougher challenge, but he’s determined to find answers.
Rich Watkins is highly enjoyable to watch in this one-man show. He makes audience participation a comfortable and somewhat pleasurable experience, even when he’s giving a certain audience member shade. Rich makes the budget set and props a running gag, with his visible costume/character changes hammed up for what it is. He is highly energetic, taking command of the small space. Sweat is literally dripping off of Rich by the end as he vogues and struts around in his thigh-high PVC boots.
With a catalogue of reworked Disney songs, interspersing the performance, this is where a lot of the comedy gold lies. Rich has cleverly rewritten the classic cartoon songs to fit this story, some racier than others. Particular stand outs include Someday My Prince Will Cum, and High Ho(e).
A pleasant surprise is the more serious message the last quarter of the show focuses on, giving the performance a deeper, more layered subtext. Rich quite rightly points out that Disney is still yet to include an openly homosexual character or gay love story in any of their films, proving there is still some glass ceilings (or slippers) yet to smash with making LGBTQ+ a fully normalised and accepted part of society.
Loud, brash and camp as hell, but not without a sprinkling of heart, tenderness and passion. Happily Ever Poofter proves it has more to say than just boys, bars and bondage. And so, remember the Fairy Godfather’s words: we do believe in fairies.
“Sometimes it’s like a fine vintage wine, in other places, it’s dusty and antiquated”
Southwark Playhouse starts the new year Stateside as it transports us over to the Windy City. Cops, a new play by Tony Tortora, focuses on personal conflicts and professional unrests.
Chicago, 1957. A time and place where change and betterment is on the horizon in every aspect of society. But the murky underworld of Mafia crime and dirty police corruption is hard to erase. Stan (Roger Alborough), Rosey (Daniel Francis), Eulee (James Sobol Kelly), and Foxy (Jack Flammiger) work together in the Police Department. They may be of different ages, ethnicities and social standings, but their joint disgruntled attitudes towards the work and each other bonds them together. They’re on the hunt to bring in a gangster-come-star witness, before the Mob gets their hands on him. However, the operation soon becomes trickier as the cops get more entangled in the thickening plot, whilst their lives and relationships with each other begin to crumble.
There’s definite Arthur Miller-type undertones to Tony Tortora’s writing. Stan, for example, is a downtrodden everyman, with only his job to live for, much like Miller’s Wille Loman from his masterpiece Death of a Salesman. Yet, like Foxy who yawns during a long all-night stake out, it’s hard to not want to do the same at times. The stake out scenes in particular move at a dirge-like pace. The dialogue may be fast moving, but any physical, engaging action comes in dribs and drabs. The storyline of mob violence and corruption in the police department promises being full of grit and suspense but is rather lacklustre in final execution. Tortora is excellent at nailing the vernacular and true day-to-day movements of a 1950’s cop, but for theatrical purposes, this doesn’t translate into being engaging enough.
Where Tortora and director Andy Jordan do shine is the examination of interactions between the intergenerational, interracial work colleagues. The office offers a dissection of society at the time. The throwaway un-PC comments, and racial nicknames flung around by Stan, reminds you how much things have changed since 1957, but also how relevant social injustice still is today.
The cast give near-faultless performances as each and everyone one are believable and truthful in their delivery. From the scenes of bantering office talk, to introverted moments of opening up their hearts, they balance the fine line between the two with utmost precision.
The set (designed by Anthony Lamble), accurately captures the look of an American cop shop of the 1950’s. Maps, documents and photographic evidence plaster the walls. Archaic ash trays are dotted everywhere. The four detectives have their own desk. A charming, subtle touch from Lamble is that each workspace is arranged in the style of each characters personality. Stan’s is messy and full of paperwork, Rosey’s impeccably clean and organised. The back half of the stage is exposed brickwork and undecorated windows, making the transitions from office to stake-out in an abandoned warehouse run smoothly.
As contradictory as it sounds, this is a refreshingly traditional piece of new work. Cops examines masculinity in a classical style and structure that is fitting of the time period the play is set. Minus some in-jokes for the modern day audience, the play feels like it could have been written sixty years ago – for better and for worse. Sometimes it’s like a fine vintage wine, in other places, it’s dusty and antiquated. Authenticity is clearly the driving force, meaning captivating, gripping action is sadly put on the back burner.