Their story plays out of order, in short snippets of scenes many of which are revisited and fleshed out once we know a bit more of their history and who they are, making sense when we see them again in context.
Josh Seymour’s production is slick and intense, with great performances from the central pair that keep you invested, even as it becomes apparent they can’t disguise all of the script’s problems. Writer and Academic’s relationship must be exhausting to be in, as it certainly is to watch – there are brief moments that show the affection and sexual attraction between them, but we mostly see their arguments. There doesn’t seem to be a single thing in their private lives that they can’t turn into a debate on the gay community at large, and though I don’t necessarily expect naturalism there’s something overwritten about their speeches that just doesn’t ring true. Worse, although Academic is generally more optimistic, romantic and cardigan-loving, while Writer represents a more angry, cynical kind of gay experience, I couldn’t really tell you what either of them was really arguing for or against; it’s all too often obvious that Seavey is simply staging an internal debate he’s struggled with.
There’s also an elephant in the room, or at least enough bathing products to wash one; Lee Newby’s abstract set takes inspiration from two specific scenes, one set at a beach that fills the stage with sand, another that bookmarks the play and sees Writer in a branch of Lush, trying to figure out what kind of gift is appropriate for someone who’s suffered a deeply traumatic event. As a result there’s displays of bath bombs all around the in-the-round staging (be prepared if you find the smell of Lush stores overwhelming, you’re going to be immersed in it for two hours,) and while I don’t mind the odd bit of product placement if that’s what it takes for fringe shows to be staged, the point where Cash Holland’s hugely likeable shop worker becomes a kind of guardian angel does make you wonder if you’re watching an infomercial (Gays! Purchase many lovely products at Lush, the staff are well nice!)
although I do swear by Cosmetic Lad, it’s the only moisturiser that helps at all after shaving
It’s to the cast and creatives’ credit, then, that they bring forward the better aspects of Seavey’s play and make for an interesting evening. Much of what humanises the unnamed couple comes down to their relationship with Dan, a new friend the Academic makes at work, and who makes the Writer instantly jealous. Despite living up to the beefcake image the Writer expects of him, Dan Krikler does a good job of giving the character a vulnerability and depth that disarms his friend’s jealous boyfriend and opens the door to a possible love triangle (as well as discussions about a threesome that fit into the overall theme of whether gay couples should be aiming for a facsimile of straight marriage, or embracing the less conformist kind of relationship that comes from decades on the margins.)
So something of a curate’s egg all in all, Homos ends up mostly satisfying and there are nice touches to Seavey’s writing – I liked the use of different social networks as an indicator of where we were in time, while the Academic’s field being in Media Studies made me think of how, if that running joke of a subject had been taken more seriously earlier, the extreme way the media has manipulated people for political gain in recent years might have been better understood. The flaws niggle once the show is over, but while you’re in the room you’re largely invested in the central relationship.
I did feel like we should have got some Lush vouchers on the way out though.
Homos, or Everyone in America is booking until the 1st of September at the Finborough Theatre.
Running time: 1 hour 50 minutes straight through.
Photo credit: Marc Brenner.
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