Drag kings are all the rage as of late and deservedly so. Pushing the boundaries of gender and sexuality, kings don’t feel so directly the pressure to conform to the ‘yaaaas queen’ performance type often seen on a particular reality competition show.
Kings of Clubs: Fears, Phobias and F**k Ups is a condensed version of a monthly night at the legendary Royal Vauxhall Tavern. Hosted by one of the Rebel Dykes, King Frankie Sinatra, the showcase is a platform to celebrate everything king. One hour long and thus VAULT Festival appropriate, this iteration has a narrative thread of the frightening with varying degrees of seriousness.
Sinatra begins the show with a song about kings – his velvety voice immediately captivating. Before bringing on the first act, Sinatra does a long monologue about bees – their biggest fear. This is to set up the audience interaction going forward which involves audience members picking phobias from a glittery paper bag that relate to the next act. A word of warning – the phobias are written on gift tags attached to plastic critters which did give some arachnophobes a fright.
Sinatra is a good compere and their interactions with the audience are natural. It would have been great to see them perform more but understandably time was restricted.
Richard Melanin the Third is the first of three acts and performs a silent act dressed in full sparkly clown garb. It is a sweet performance with some amusing moments such as those with a mini piano but it is relatively low energy and repetitive.
Sweet FA is second and is accurately described as ‘what would happen if Alan Bennett did Sister Act’. They deliver an energetic and varied performance – a clever mash-up of songs interspersed with live performance and lip sync. Exploring the Catholic fear of the LGBTQ+ community, Sweet FA handles the topic with good humour and satire all whilst wearing a fashionable alb.
The show concludes with Prinx Silver, a popular performer and go-go dancer on the London queer scene. Clad all in leather, Silver dances to Macho Man by the Village People as it is cut with old audio of doctors warning against homosexuality. The routine ends with Gloria Gaynor’s I Am What I Am whilst Silver waves the trans flag conveniently pulled from his underpants.
Moving from coulrophobia to homophobia to transphobia, the show takes a serious and sincere turn in its last third. Referencing new self-identification system in Scotland that has been blocked by UK ministers, Sinatra warns the audience of internal division when we should all be fighting the common enemy, the heteronormative patriarchy. To conclude, Sinatra leads all in a singsong of Stand by Our Trans to the tune of Tammy Wynette’s Stand by Your Man.
The set has a simple dressing – a spider-like structure is constructed on the backwall from colourful fabric. Stagehand Callum moves props and the mic stand on and off the stage when necessary and performers make good use of the space regularly stepping off the raised stage to interact directly with the audience. More set dressing would have been nice – even a sign to say Kings of Clubs would have added more visual interest.
Kings of Clubs: Fears, Phobias and F**k Ups is a passionate show with a clear message to tell. The pace however is too slow and needs to be tightened up to pack a punch. More polish and a longer runtime would really provide this show with the platform it needs.
“There is joy and hilarity in the horrors of the heteronormativity it explores”
Stephanie Martin’s play, ‘Thirsty’ is a heart-breaking and manic deep dive into the truth of going through a breakup in your late twenties as a queer woman.
We meet Sara, fresh out of a relationship, looking for a way to cope with the pain of being dumped by the woman she loves. She turns to the people around her for support, including her Bridget Jones-esque friendship group full of larger-than-life characters, who, despite having good intentions, don’t completely understand the intricacies of queer relationships or their fallout.
Louise Beresford as Sara immediately breaks the fourth wall and forms allyship with the audience, creating a Fleabag-style breakaway narrative that gives audiences an insight into the truth of Sara’s thoughts throughout the whole play. This, and other choices of form and dialogue, contribute to the beautiful and subtle nod to neurodivergence in the character, and create a sense of intimacy and trust between the players and the audience.
We meet a large array of side characters, multi-rolled by a talented cast made up of women and non-binary actors. A particular mention to Anna Spearpoint, who presents a showcase of comedic characters, one of which is the best friend of Sara. Her earnest and hilarious choices make for a memorable performance, and bring diversity through her accent and acting style. She is definitely one to watch.
This is a show made by queer people, for queer people. It also offers an indifferent truth to the reality of heartbreak which anyone can relate to, and displays how these experiences can be altered massively by the people around you. There is joy and hilarity in the horrors of the heteronormativity it explores, and it offers an insight into the queer world; its kinks, its language, and the marginalisation still present within it.
“Are you going to go back to dating men? Do I have to?”
It engages in a lively pace to keep the audiences invested and by the end, slightly exhausted by the moments and memories we explore – again, a realistic insight into the mind of the character taking us through the story. Scott Le Crass’ impeccable direction utilises tools such as flashback, dance and play with the space to create a contemporary and exciting performative world.
Stephanie Martin’s ability to create honest yet hilarious conversations drives this piece, and an audience finds itself settled into the tone of the piece within minutes. This is a show that knows exactly what it is. Jokes, puns, and punchlines are sprinkled throughout the entire script, catching an audience by surprise. Within a minute the show takes you from laughter to wiping a tear. It is a piece that is so real, those who can identify with it might find it slightly painful.
The joy that has come from Scott Le Crass’ play with the space, beams through the actors. It is one of the best intimate scenes I’ve seen played out on stage, and the actors didn’t even touch.
Thirsty is a queer heartbreak story, that teaches us about the lives of the characters we meet, and if you lean into it, will teach you something about yourself. It is also a reminder that even if something looks perfect from the outside, the reality can be far from it.
A perfect show for VAULT Festival, with a guaranteed life after this run.
