Picture: Pamela Raith Photography
Cruise continues at the Apollo Theatre, London until 4 September 2022.
Star rating: five stars ★ ★ ★ ★ ★
The art of a great storyteller is to make you feel that you’re there, in the moment, accompanying the narrator through whatever world they are conjuring up for you.
To experience that sort of power on stage is rare, but with Jack Holden, the writer and performer of Cruise, the ability to take his audience through the streets of 1980s Soho, where gay pubs and clubs were abundant but hidden behind doors and blacked out glass, is mesmeric.
Holden’s story begins with his own experience helping out at Switchboard, the LGBT+ phone helpline, in his early twenties a decade ago. He is glib maybe, naïve certainly. When he tells an older colleague that he loves 80s music and wishes he was around in that era, the reply, “No. No, you really don’t”, presages an exploration of what being gay in that era really meant.
That comes in the form of a call from Michael, who unburdens himself by telling the young Jack of how he, aged 18 in 1980, uprooted himself from the somnolent Medway town of his youth to London’s gay heart, where Old Compton Street is the aorta.
Although he occasionally returns to the character of Jack, Michael becomes Holden’s principal narrator. Director Bronagh Lagan propels Holden around Nik Corrall’s industrial set, always restless, never settling, ever on the lookout for the next adventure.
And that sense of restlessness is amplified by John Patrick Elliott’s relentless, thumping score, performed live by the composer. Modern electronic beats mix with 80s synth sounds and tributes to some of the anthems of the era, especially when Michael starts work in a small recording studio with a boss who also performs as a club DJ.
Occasionally, Holden sings along: a line from Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I Will Survive’ here, a snippet of Patsy Cline’s ‘Crazy’ (a classic in any era) there. Musically, though, the highlight comes when Michael and his boyfriend “Slutty” Dave, having received the shattering news that they are both HIV-positive, visit a drag show at the iconic Royal Vauxhall Tavern.
The drag queen they encounter – Jackie Shit – has more in common with Les Dawson than The Vivienne, a really rough sort who speaks in a deep, Northern brogue but has the singing voice of an angel. Peggy Lee’s ‘Is That All There Is?’ is the perfect song choice here, with its spoken verses and delicately sung chorus as the performer meets stressful situations, survives them and wonders what all the fuss was about.
But for Michael and Dave, the promise offered by the song seems impossible. This is the era where an HIV diagnosis started the clock on a ticking time bomb. The couple are told that they can expect a maximum of four years life expectancy, and part of the skill in Holden’s playwriting comes through the exploration of how the pair deal with this.
The journey Holden takes us on continues to be rife with comic moments, but also with tragedy. The ultimate comes with a heartbreaking scene as Dave’s illness comes to a head while the couple are watching Top Gun. Like the rest of the piece, it’s beautifully observed, filled with gorgeous character moments, and a specificity that reverberates throughout the whole theatre.
In the world of TV, Russell T Davies’ It’s a Sin covers much the same ground, walks the same streets, as Cruise. But this play does something more, potentially even greater: it offers a hand to those who didn’t live through the AIDS crisis first hand, like the Jack working at Switchboard, and lets them know that this is their history, too: it’s messy, it’s noisy, it’s fun, it’s tragic, it’s scary, it’s beautiful, it’s dangerous. But it belongs to all of us.
Scott Matthewman
- The Switchboard LGBT+ helpline is available on 0300 330 0630 every day from 10am to 10pm
Comments are closed.