In the spirit of Love The Sinner, I feel some confession is in order for this review: I used to be a gay Christian in my teenage years. No prizes for guessing which fell by the wayside. But despite having chosen the flesh over the spirit at some point, the issue of the Church and homosexuality still provokes a strong response from me. So I was aware that I could either come away loving or loathing this production purely on personal grounds, rather than judging it on its own merit. Thankfully – or not, as the case may be – this production left me feeling entirely underwhelmed.This is a play that suffers from that common sin (sorry) in a lot of new writing: trying to tackle as many big issues as possible in the two or so hours traffic of the stage. Drew Pautz’s script flits around the conflict between spirituality and sexuality, HIV and Aids, the ethics of IVF, religion in the workplace, persecution in Africa, immigration, even humane pest control. Part of this, I think, is Pautz’s understandable desire to show that there are no clear answers to questions of conscience. But by spreading itself so thin, nothing is dealt with satisfactorily and the result is a superficial affair. The play opens with an international conference of bishops of the Church of England, where there proves to be as much variance over ordering coffee as debating theology. I imagine that this could be pretty turgid stuff for those not versed in doctrine, but nevertheless, the performances of Louis Mahoney as Paul and Nancy Crane as Hannah make this quite watchable. But before a decision has to be made, it’s quickly dropped, never to return.
Instead, the story moves to Michael, a church layman first seen silently transcribing the proceedings, but who emerges as the potential 'sinner' of the title, having had a sexual encounter with Joseph, a porter at the hotel. The awkwardness following a random dalliance is played well by Jonathan Cullen and Fiston Barek, who for the most part, cope quite well throughout with Pautz's erraric narrative.
But, as often happens to me with portrayals of gay sex, I’m afraid my brain kicked in to logistics mode around this point. Don't worry, it did the same thing in Brokeback Mountain (“Just spit? Really?”). Here, I was preoccupied with figuring out the mechanics of what had gone on between Michael and Joseph. Had Michael been wearing the t-shirt during sex (which would be odd given how hot it’s clearly meant to be and the fact that he’s in his own hotel room) or had he put it on post-coitus, despite it being covered in the, err, aftermath? These may seem trite observations, but it had the feel of something that hadn't been thought through. And by keeping what happened between the sheets between the acts, it’s difficult to get any sense of why Michael and Joseph continue to be drawn to one another. The case of the one-night stand that won’t go away is a trope that can be played for comic or tragic value, but here it vacillates between both. Ordinarily, I would approve of a director's decision to allow the two to jostle alongside one another, except in this case, the one night-stand is also used as the vehicle for a bigger social and political issues, and so the comedy seems ill-placed. The fact that the Ugandan Anti-Homosexual Bill is still a possibility (although thankfully a diminishing one) and that homophobia is legally enshrined in other parts of Africa made it hard for me to get the joke. Particularly when the humour descends from some very intelligent set pieces – the conclave closing their eyes so as to avoid contact with the outside world is brilliantly done – to a moment bordering dangerously on racism at the end when the audience laughs at Joseph's naivety when he declares “I want to be a bishop” (despite others repeatedly noting his intelligence).
From his initial transgression, the play then wanders through a series of snapshots in Michael’s life, before things start to catch up with him. His broody high-strung wife Shelley is painfully two-dimensional; I'm not sure if it was possible to find sympathetic nuances to her character in Pautz's script, but Charlotte Randle certainly made no attempt. It's really quite understandable why Michael would choose to sleep with anyone else rather than her. Apart from her though, Matthew Dunster has gathered a solid cast for the most part. Ian Redford’s benevolent Santa Claus of an archbishop was certainly a saving grace. As was Anna Fleischle's wooden set, modified between scenes behind hotel-style blinds that offered a peek through the curtains at what was going on. Perhaps an appropriate image to end on, for a production that constantly felt like something half-glimpsed, a story barely told.
Tickets:
£10, semi-restricted view, level C. And boy, the National really aren’t kidding with ‘semi-restricted’. I would even go so far as to say that seats V36 and V37 might be considered ‘very restricted’, if indeed gradations of restriction are possible. Which I’m not sure they are. How does one quantify the difference between ‘restricted’ and ‘semi-restricted’? Anyway, from our perch on high we were able to see a lot of the action, provided it didn’t take place on stage right. Unfortunately, a fair bit did at times. My fellow theatregoer for the evening hadn’t even realised that Jonathan Cullen was in the first scene, tucked away as he was down there. Although he was much happier when he realised that our seats were prime location for Cullen’s full frontal nudity. One assumes the seats opposite give a full view of the back side of things. In a manner of speaking.
So swings and roundabouts really – mostly alright, with occasional intervals of emotional bald spot acting or cock, which, depending on your own views, might not be a selling point. To be honest, with how I felt about the show, leering leaning over the balcony for a tenner was more than sufficient.
Programme:
£1.50. The cheapest programme I’ve had in a while, but no bloody wonder – it’s nothing more than a glorified cast list with extensive bios and some black and white rehearsal shots. Certainly, no attempt to expand further on the thinking behind the play (perhaps they realised it’s not possible)? Worth it only if you are a reviewer or collect this sort of theatre ephemera.
Total Cost:
£11.50 … although more expensive if the two pre-show, interval and two post-show drinks are included. All necessary, I assure you.
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