Pride – Dorfman, National Theatre

The cast of Pride at the Dorfman, National Theatre. Picture: Manuel Harlan

Pride continues at the Dorfman, National Theatre, London until 12 September 2026.

Star rating: five stars ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

If it weren’t for the fact that Pride tells a story well documented in the historical archives, you might dismiss it as sentimental, saccharine fiction. But the unlikely alliance between queer Londoners and Welsh miners is remarkably, brilliantly, true. It’s a story worth telling. And Matthew Warchus tells it well, in a new musical with music by Christopher Nightingale, Josh Cohen and DJ Walde, and book and lyrics by Stephen Beresford [Beresford also penned the 2014 movie Pride directed by Warchus].

From the start, you’re immersed in the political and social landscape of the mid-1980s. As the audience settles, nostalgic images of the decade fill the stage: a young Charles and Diana, Queen’s Freddie Mercury, a group of punks with spiked green mohawks.

We’re thrown right into the political struggle for gay rights. Familiar yet tragic stories of familial rejection, police mistreatment and the blight of AIDS on this already marginalised and suffering community, are all presented to emotional effect.

And yet the real beauty of this production is the transformation of a story rooted in hate, discrimination and grief, into something inspiring, uplifting and celebratory. The cast and creatives’ ability to weave trauma and joy so seamlessly makes this production captivating.

Joy is the overriding sentiment of the musical, and you feel it throughout. Lesbians and gay men start disco dancing with the locals of the Welsh mining town Onllwyn, while Chris Jenkins and Lewis Cornay perform a glorious epitome of an out and proud coming out song. Even the discriminatory terms of the Sexual Offences Act are relayed through camp choreography. The best moment comes at the start of Act II, where Samuel Barnett delivers a standout, layered performance that leaves you crying with joy and grief at the same time.

The cast is strong and energetic, with distinct numbers from the queer and Welsh choruses that beautifully meld as the story progresses. Jhon Lumsden’s Mark Ashton espouses the ambitious optimism of queer activism, and Cornay flourishes as the newly initiated Bromley. Barnett easily steals the show as the unapologetically exuberant Jonathan.

Scaffolding frames a relatively sparse stage, with Jo Cichonska’s band on the upper level. More integral to the staging, and historically fascinating too, are the political banners for queer rights and miners’ strikes that permeate the scenes. Hugh Vanstone’s lighting is bright and powerful, and aesthetically pleasing throughout. The writing does the job, though it can feel basic or formulaic at times; it’s buoyed by the compelling and moving material the creative team is working with.

The musical is undoubtedly a fun, celebratory night out. But it also leaves the audience with some pressing questions.

The modern story of queer rights is still being written. The piece doesn’t explore gender queerness (and even on sexuality, there’s only a single lesbian on stage). Yet for trans people in particular, the struggle is far from over, and the path towards equality may not be a linear march toward progress.

Today we celebrate this queer activism and solidarity, and laud their unflinching anger and uncompromising demands. But in the 1980s these same groups were condemned as radical, disruptive and deplorable. What do we now denounce as ‘too much’ or ‘too far’ that future generations will celebrate, as we celebrate Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners? More than 40 years on, in the 2020s, what role should this kind of activism, and anger, play in our society?

It’s a sombre time for activism in the UK. Successive governments have curtailed protest rights and villainised those taking direct action. Last year, protesters were arrested under terrorism laws for holding signs opposing genocide in Palestine. Would Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners, and the change it brought, even be possible in today’s political climate?

The depth of emotions and complexity of questions Pride evokes is testament to its success. The story reminds us of the monumental change this country has seen in four decades. That this musical runs at the National Theatre; that proud, camp, joyous expressions of queerness draw rapturous applause on this stage, is a world some in 1984 might not have thought possible.

To celebrate their story so vividly and joyously is a privilege. Forty years on, it’s as inspiring and as beautiful as ever.

Billy Nicholles