ajhlovestheatre

SHUTTERS: A Lesbian Rock Opera

Music, lyrics and book by Rena Brannan

Directed by Tom Latter

Omnibus Theatre, London – until 24 June 2026

https://www.omnibus-clapham.org/shutters/

Anybody coming to a show billed as “a lesbian rock opera” is probably expecting something along the lines of RENT but with the Joanne/Maureen storyline given more prominence. The rather brilliant Korean-American-Irish composer-writer Rena Brannan has other ideas however, and, although this show probably defies the Trades Description Act (it’s not a rock opera, but more on that shortly), she has come up with something truly original, pretty bonkers, and impossible to pigeonhole.

Shutters: A Lesbian Rock Opera is simultaneously a story within a story (several stories actually), a meta-theatrical look at queer people through the years between the Hollywood Golden Age and the first two decades of the 21st century, a dyke odyssey, and a charming musical that’s surprisingly conventional at times. It still feels very much like a work in progress – it’s messy, occasionally misjudged and rough round the edges – but it has a wit and spirit entirely its own.

While it undoubtedly needs work (also a bigger budget, and possibly a strict dramaturg), it’s a compelling piece of musical theatre. Whatever happens to it next – and it totally deserves a further life beyond this brief run during Pride season – it is imperative that it doesn’t become too smooth, too conventional, as the jagged defiance and disarming rawness are a huge part of it’s appeal.

Brannan is a major talent, with a bold imagination and assured command of language. Shutters: A Lesbian Rock Opera isn’t just the name of the show, it’s also the title of a film property David O Selznick – yes, he who produced Gone With The Wind, which is often referenced here – is anachronistically kicking around. This means that a lot of what we’re watching is part of this project, which sometimes means an uncertainty of tone, at least as seen in Tom Latter’s production, but also a unique get-out-of-jail-free card for the creatives when the material doesn’t land. For instance, there’s a touchy-feely post-911 number that is actually a good song but feels a bit toe-curling yet it’s unclear if the issue is with the show we are watching or the movie Selznick is working on. The multiple time periods is a useful way to interrogate the contrast between queer lives back in the early part of the twentieth century as opposed to the recent past.

Although some of Brannan’s characters need more delineation, they express themselves in words erudite and honest. The score doesn’t really rock but that’s no disrespect to Faith Taylor’s virtuosic keyboard playing and backing vocals, and occasional knowing interjections. It just feels that it’s more about charm and eclecticism than thunder and bombast, and it needs more instrumentation. A larger band and orchestrations will surely reveal other colours. The vocal harmonies for the small company are already lovely, especially when heard acoustically.

The central characters are London-based musician Saving Liz (Morag Sims), Maggie the middle class, breadwinning career woman who adores her (Sarah Lawrie), and successful American singer-songwriter Billie Parker (Deanna Myers) who she truly loves. Liz and Billie have international meet-ups periodically while Maggie is the formers home base despite being a big noise in her own corporate field. If this sounds like classic RomCom territory with a sapphic twist, that’s not factoring in a rhyme-talking narrator (Bunny Cook) who feels like a third cousin to Cabaret’s Emcee without the make-up; and an audacious framing device involving Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy (Jules Melvin and Thom Tuck respectively), two of Hollywood’s most high profile closet jobs.

You really haven’t lived until you’ve heard Hepburn and Tracy growling through a Glam Rock-lite non-sexual love song about friendship. Melvin and Tuck (who also plays a spiteful Selznick) are utterly sublime and the brief snatch of the same song that the former mouths after news of Tracy’s lonely death packs a real emotional punch. By contrast, the terminal illness that sees off one of the principal characters in the more contemporary tranche of the story needs more foreshadowing and exploration.

Brannan is a cracking songwriter. As it stands right now, this is an impressive collection of tunes with incisive, occasionally outrageous lyrics, that could benefit from cutting loose a little. But when’s the last time you heard a sexually frustrated woman belt out “you love fucking chocolate more than you love fucking me” as a refrain in a musical ballad? There’s probably more relatable stuff in about ten minutes of Shutters than there is in the entire three hour sprawl of the current West End Aspects Of Love, even for heterosexuals.

The script needs focussing and reining in but it’s verbally elegant and often heartfelt: it fundamentally works and is occasionally better than that of many bigger shows who weren’t half this interesting at much later stages in their development. There’s a potentially delicious scene near the end, where a trio of women about to take questions at a forum on lesbian ethics, suddenly realise they’ve been sexually cross-pollinating, that gets cut short and currently feels like a missed opportunity. It’s fun but it could be funnier.

It could also benefit from being a bit sexier. At the end of the first act an exasperated Selznick resolves to make the film-in-progress into something raunchier. The act two opener, which sees Myers and Sims writhing all over each other in Chicago-esque outfits while Taylor delivers something gorgeous at their keyboard, fulfils that promise briefly but then the tone reverts to normal. Having set up the premise that there will be a significant difference between the two parts, it seems odd that this doesn’t really happen. All that said, it’s bracing to encounter a show that’s cynical where other musicals would probably go sentimental.

The cast are excellent. Sims doubles convincingly as a flaky but passionate Saving Liz (with a superb singing voice) and a smart, knowing old school Hollywood secretary-cum-assistant. Myers’s Billie is a winning combination of self assurance and vulnerability, negotiating the slightly unlikely fall from grace the script gives her with commendable conviction. Cook is an endearing bridge between the audience and the numerous story strands. Lawrie invests Maggie with an intriguing combination of uptight middle class awkwardness and self-involved lunacy. Crucially, she’s very funny but also entirely real.

“Lesbian is everything that loves itself. Don’t resist, can’t resist” goes one of Brannan’s repeated lyrics. While Shutters: A Lesbian Rock Opera isn’t quite irresistible yet, it has an ambition, fire and bizarre kookiness, but also a humanity, that make it impossible to write off. Director Latter needs to up the pace of many of the scenes, and the presentation of the music generally needs more oomph, but there is a lot here to admire. Enjoyable, thought-provoking and well worth catching.