“an amazing and unique service to offer in a town that often feels indifferent to your wellbeing”
London is a hard city to crack. Even for those certain this is the place they want to be, for those deeply in love with its turbo pace, beauty and anonymity; it’s still tough. But in a shipping container round the corner from Waterloo station, Love In’s Amanda Grace offers a refuge to all, somewhere free of cynicism and defensiveness. Somewhere to have a truly sincere conversation about where you’re at in your life, how you’re feeling about the decisions you’ve made of late, and what you want for yourself. She also offers a cup of tea or coffee if you fancy.
It functions as a kind of therapy session, except Amanda responds to everything I tell her with unabashed enthusiasm and empathy. There’s some reflection on what we talk about, but nothing even close to critical. Also, unlike a normal therapy session, I’m allowed to ask questions about her, and she answers honestly and openly.
As we talk, she’s writing a letter addressed to me, and at the end of the session she pops it in an envelope, along with an English Rose teabag, a hand-written playlist and a little excerpt from Alfred de Musset to George Sand professing his unadulterated love.
The letter itself is as personal as its possible to be after a half hour conversation with a stranger, but it’s full of positivity and encouragement, and I’m truly delighted reading it on my commute home on a crammed London train.
I think Love In is slightly mis-sold, because it’s not really an attempt at showing ‘love’ or anything so disingenuous. Instead, it’s an opportunity to have a chat, free of judgement, to present yourself as you see yourself and receive only assurance and kindness. It must be an exhausting undertaking for Amanda, but she seems willing, and it’s an amazing and unique service to offer in a town that often feels indifferent to your wellbeing.
“Plot, comedy, character – Doherty has successfully achieved them all”
Gay Witch Sex Cult, the latest work by queer comedy writer and performer Andrew Doherty, does not begin how you might expect. Opening at the gender reveal party for the child of Kaelan Trough (Doherty) and his partner Jeremy, it is difficult at this moment to imagine how any of the title’s four words will be covered adequately. However, when Kaelan unwittingly reveals a file on his computer entitled ‘Gay Witch Sex Cult’, he is forced to explain his recent experience with sinister forces.
Kaelan describes his journey to an island between England and France where the cult has settled. En route, he learns that young women have been travelling to the island for decades though none ever return, and he soon uncovers large maternity wards within the island’s three abandoned hospitals. A confusing prophecy fuels further investigation and the terrifying truth begins to unravel.
Doherty makes excellent use of PowerPoint slides to accompany his bizarre tale. From informative slides on the island’s buildings to Shrek screenshots, it is always a joy to see what comes next. There is also some great use of video and animation as the plot thickens.
Apart from the presentation, there is little in the way of set dressing. When the audience enters, there is a large box stage left that is intended for gender reveal balloons as well as two chairs facing one another. On a small table stage right rests Doherty’s laptop and a few other props such as his novel – Call Me By Your Name from the perspective of the peach – and a suspicious set of keys.
Doherty does an excellent job of moving between the absolutely absurd to darker and more touching moments. The silly tone is established immediately with a PowerPoint slide that says ‘Applaud as you see fit’ but our star does not shy away from the macabre nor the dramatic. The energy is always high, and no beat is missed – jokes are so frequent that it is impossible to lose focus. This is a comedy masterclass.
The sound design is incredibly atmospheric – the scraping of the demon’s sickle against rock the most notable. Doherty doesn’t shy away from accents either – his impression of and back-and-forth with the mysterious ferrymen who takes him to the island highly enjoyable.
Audience participation is minimal beyond the initial five minutes, but Doherty does a great job of making all feel involved throughout. His style of presenting is as if talking to an old friend – he is familiar and warm but remains in control even when the audience gets raucous with laughter.
Gay Witch Sex Cult is a fantastic show which embraces its ridiculousness with open arms whilst also telling a completely coherent and captivating story. Plot, comedy, character – Doherty has successfully achieved them all. He is certainly one to watch.
