Billy Barrett & Ellice Stevens, Frew
Breach Theatre HOME, Manchester
November 12-16, 2024; 2hr
Section 28 was in place for only 15 years, but it had an impact on generations of LGBTQ+ people in the UK. Its shadow hangs over us to this day. What better way, then, to tell the story of before, during and After the Act, than through the actual words of those still living with the effects?
This verbatim musical doesn’t pull any punches as it showcases some harrowing stories. The closeted man remembering his suicidal schooldays, the teacher so fearful for her career she fails to give a young and questioning pupil the support they so clearly need, the non-binary adult who only just survived a society more willing to try and convert and torture than educate.
The traumatic personal vignettes are interspersed with tales of some of the activists who fought back. From the so-called "gaggle of screeching dotty dykes" who stormed a BBC News studio, to the local authority worker who tried to prevent a moral panic over the anodyne tome Jenny Lives with Martin and Eric.
Complete with "ers", "ums", tangents and self-corrections, the dialogue is suitably authentic and extraordinarily powerful. Billy Barrett (who also directs) and Ellice Stevens (who also performs) have weaved it all together in a way that is episodic enough to make each story distinct and clear, but still exists as part of a coherent whole.
Almost as extraordinary, are the extracts of some of the parliamentary speeches, newspaper columns and homophobic protests of the era. Anyone without a sense of the all-pervading trauma and threat created by Section 28 will be well aware by the end of the show.
All the words are soundtracked by an original score, and live playing, orchestrated by composer Frew. The music has a Pet Shop Boys vibe, reminiscent of 80s synth-pop, but still features a couple of catchy, rock musical-style numbers. Stevens as a disco drag queen-inspired Thatcher is a particular highlight.
Bethany Wells’ clever school gym set design is brilliantly used throughout as the cast manipulates benches and pommel horses to Sung-Im Her’s visceral choreography. A climbing frame backdrop is ever so slightly triggering for any audience member who grimaces at the thought of gymnastics, but is the perfect canvas for Zakk Hein’s projections, which help to set the time and place of the action on stage.
All the performances are excellent. This is a proper ensemble, that lives and breathes every beat. Special credit to Zachary Willis, who shape-shifts into so many different characters and accents and is believable in them all.
There are moments of positivity and light but overall, this piece is an in your face reminder and warning. That is a tonal choice and, given the importance and prescience of the subject matter, hard to argue with. It may well be quite triggering for some.
The show could arguably benefit from a tighter, one-act running time to pack the most punch, but After the Act is still an impressive and important watch.
Tickets and information here
