ajhlovestheatre

SOUND OF THE UNDERGROUND

by Travis Alabanza

co-created and directed by Debbie Hannan

Royal Court Theatre, London – until 25 February 2023

https://royalcourttheatre.com/whats-on/sound-of-the-underground/

The Royal Court’s first main stage production of 2023 is up and not so much running as sashaying magnificently….and it’s truly special. Travis Alabanza, in tandem with Debbie Hannan, has created something hilarious, furious, rough around the edges, and fiercely intelligent. It’s a gorgeous but thought-provoking celebration of queer performance art, a lament for the shrinking number of London venues where such work thrives, and a defiant two fingers up to the gatekeepers of both mainstream theatre and (hello RuPaul) glossy TV-primed drag.

It starts with a statement of intent, as the eight artists who make up the cast head for the stage from the back of the house, spreading a potent mixture of mayhem and joy, laced with a little bit of danger, then introduce themselves, and give a brief indication of what’s about to go down (“we are putting our nightlife jobs on hold to be at this theatre…we’ve made a play!”) Actually, Sound Of The Underground isn’t a play in the traditional sense of the word, but then nothing about it is traditional. Divided into three discrete sections, it first uses a sitcom set-up vaguely reminiscent of Jordan E Cooper’s recent, undeservedly short-lived Ain’t No Mo on Broadway, except that where that used drag to explore the Black American experience, here Alabanza uses a similar tone and sensibility to look at the realities of operating as an artist in a very particular, often underrated, medium.

This self-consciously arch scene indicts a certain globally famous drag icon before exploding in anarchy, then transitions into a section which employs the classic drag trope of lip synching, but here to a pre-recorded verbatim script, the words being the cast’s own as they discuss/decry the difficulties -financial, social and spiritual- of working on the underground club scene. If at first, it feels cacophonous and random, it quickly becomes utterly mesmerising. As if to underline the point that a drag career, so often trivialised and dismissed by outsiders who either don’t know or don’t care, is bloody hard work, Alabanza and Hannan have the performers and stage crew laboriously dismantle the set while at the back of the stage Liverpudlian diva Ms Sharon Le Grand is painstakingly bewigged, dressed and made up to perform an operatically OTT version of the Girls Aloud track that shares it’s title with this show, to close the first half. If it feels like a lot of preparation for minimum pay off, it’s also a useful metaphor for the careers of these unique talents.

There’s pay off aplenty though in the second half when each of the stars gets to demonstrate their particular skill set in an off-kilter, lushly produced variety show, compèred with disdainful wit by the gloriously named Sue Gives A Fuck, a languidly potty-mouthed glamazon who raises sarcasm to an art form. Some of the contributions, such as Lilly Snatchdragon’s fan dance or Sadie Sinner The Songbird’s burlesque striptease, are straight-forward crowdpleasers, while others – Rhys’ Piece’s rapping or Midgitte Bardot’s thrillingly sung, wildly hilarious ascent towards the Court’s flies on a cherrypicker – achieve a lunatic brilliance that catapults the show into the realm of the truly original.

This reaches an apotheosis with Wet Mess, an athletic drag king-cum-clown who combines cute with chilling to astonishing effect, whether making a stage entrance from within a tied up bin bag or performing a crazed yet oddly beautiful dance that feels equal parts exhilaration and threat. The final spot goes to Chiyo whose spotlight moment starts as a cheeky strip but then devolves into a harrowing monologue where he bares more than his body in a reminder that, once off stage, anybody who doesn’t conform to societal and gender-based norms can be at considerable risk just for living their authentic lives. It brings the production and the audience up short, and it’s undeniably powerful, even if there is a sense of preaching to the choir, although that is a criticism that could conceivably be levelled at the entire show, for all it’s barnstorming outrageousness and invention.

Ultimately though, kudos is due to the Royal Court for giving this fabulous shower of diverse and exciting talents such a prominent and sumptuously realised platform (Simisola Majekodunmi’s lighting and the designs of Rosie Elnile and Max Johns are top notch), and it feels appropriate given that this is the venue that first gave birth to The Rocky Horror Show, albeit in the Upstairs space. Alabanza is a force of nature, and Sound Of The Underground will undoubtedly prove to be one of the theatrical events of 2023. Confrontational, bewitching and sometimes bewildering, it gets right to the heart of the punk sensibility of creative drag. You’re unlikely to have seen anything quite like this before, at least in a proscenium arch theatre, and you won’t forget it in a hurry.