by Gregory Forrest
Set against the racial tensions of the 2001 Oldham riots, Kings of Idle Land is a Romeo and Juliet reworking, in which tinnies, crisp packets, and roll-ups become a kind of love potion for two nervous young men.
LGBTQIA+
Tilda Swinton Answers an Ad on Craigslist, Vault Festival
By Meredith Jones Russell
Idiosyncratic, eccentric, fearless and alien-like are just a few of the descriptors a rudimentary Google search of Tilda Swinton will throw up. Based on these, Byron Lane’s Tilda Swinton Answers an Ad on Craigslist has absolutely captured the essence of an icon. It has undoubtedly created a new one, too.
Bleach, Vault Festival
By Laura Kressly
Tyler had been living a life familiar to many new Londoners – frustratedly waiting tables whilst hoping for excitement and success that would make his mum proud. Then, a night out in Soho inspired him to give up one kind of service for another, and he’s now loving his work as an escort. The men, the money and the sex make an equation that’s irresistible and thrilling, but not without risk.
My Dad’s Gap Year, Park Theatre
by Louis Train
“Fuck me, these exotic birds are well shaggable!”
…is actually one of the more enlightened lines in Tom Wright’s new play, My Dad’s Gap Year, under the direction of Rikki Beadle-Blair. Part giddy romp and part failed attempt at progressive theatre, Gap Year’s greatest accomplishment is proving that – solidarity be damned! – LGBT art can be thoughtless, regressive, and ignorant.
Juniper and Jules, Vaults Festival
by Laura Kressly
I can’t stop smiling at the memory of the audience almost entirely composed of lesbian couples. Though not a rare thing to see a fringe theatre audience made up mainly of women, the hand holding and cuddling happening around the room indicates there’s something special about this play.
Drip, Bush Theatre
by Amy Toledano
In anyone fifteen years old, emotions are running high. Everything feels bigger and more extreme than it actually is, so it’s easy to be swallowed up by all the feelings. Add on top of that being queer in the North of the UK, and the teen years are bound to be an absolute rollercoaster. Drip is a lovely reminder of what it feels like to be young, and how important friendship is.
The Art of Gaman, Theatre503
by Laura Kressly
Tomomi stands on the prow of a ship with arms flung open, ready to embrace a new life as a Hollywood actress. There’s something of Kate Winslet in Titanic about her unfaltering determination and hope – and that seminal pose, of course. When an older man disturbs her quiet reflection on the fish feeding below the water’s surface and her need for acting compared to their need for water, her destiny is forever altered.
Poet in da Corner, Royal Court
by Laura Kressly
At the start of the millennium, Deborah is a teenager living on the edge of East London with her silent father and zealous Mormon mother. She feels suffocated by religion when she starts secondary school. But as she gets stuck into this new world, she meets Vyper and discovers Dizzee Rascal. Once her mind and her talent are unlocked by these two forces, her life is irrevocably changed for better and worse.
Drip Feed, Soho Theatre
by Maeve Campbell
Karen Cogan begins her one-woman show floppy and lifeless looking, slumped over a grubby sofa bed. This is an uncomfortable image to pre-show chat in front of and it sets the mood for the proceeding work. Drip Feed is Brenda’s story, a ‘youngish’ queer woman living in Cork, inhabited by insular, parochial and judgemental residents. Brenda, though, is ‘part of the furniture’ of the city, but seems both in love with and restricted by it.
Eris, Bunker Theatre
By Laura Kressly
Sean broke up with Tim because he’s just too fabulous and refuses to try to fit in. But now Sean’s sister is getting married back home in Ireland and he doesn’t have anyone to bring to the wedding that will suitably piss off his conservative, Catholic family. With his bestie Callista in tow, he embarks on one outrageous Tinder date after another as the trip home gets ever closer.
The Play's The Thing UK 