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Revolutionary back in the day, The Boys in the Band still packs punch 57 years later.
In 1968, when the play premiered Off-Broadway, homosexuality and illegality were inextricably linked.
The Boys in the Band put the joys and fears of being a homosexual into the public domain.
Comedic, dramatic and angst riddled, it centres on a birthday party thrown for a 32-year-old Jewish gay man by his gay friends in a New York City apartment.
The festivities are shanghaied by the arrival of a supposedly straight man.
The host is lapsed Catholic Michael (Maverick Newman), who is losing his hair and trying to give up booze.
His friend, Donald (Jack Stratton-Smith), comes to town each weekend to see his therapist and then usually stays with Michael. Both have their insecurities.
Just before the party is due to kick off, Michael receives an unexpected call from his former college roommate, married family man Alan McCarthy (Mitchell Holland).
Alan is inconsolable and asks to come over. Even though the timing is far from ideal, Michael feels he has no choice, but to accede.
In the meantime, all the invited guests – colourful, neurotic and argumentative – arrive.
The last of them to turn up – late – is the birthday boy, Harold (Mason Gasowski), with whom Michael has a prickly relationship.
But it is only when Alan shows that a proverbial cat is put amongst the pigeons.
Alan takes an immediate dislike to effeminate Emory (Ryan Henry) and gravitates towards Hank (Stephen Mahy).
He doesn’t entertain the idea that Hank and everyone else in the room are gay.
That is especially the case because Hank has on a wedding ring and tells Alan that he is married with two children.
Truth be told, Hank swings both ways and is in love with Larry (Andy Johnston), with whom he lives and wants a committed homosexual relationship.
Larry sees things differently, insofar as he is not interested in gay monogamy.
After Alan expresses his deeply homophobic feelings to Michael, an already tense situation devolves significantly further.
In the continued presence of Alan, Michael invents a game.
The rules are that each of those present is asked to call the one person they have truly loved and, if they answer, to tell them so.
That leads to several uncomfortable moments and home truth reveals as some of the feelings of the callers have hitherto been kept under wraps.
Mart Crowley’s first play, which later informed a 1970 film version that he also wrote (as well as a 2020 remake that he co-wrote), is characterised by its brutal honesty.
It looks and feels like an authentic depiction of the gay lifestyle, warts and all.
Infused with humour and heartbreak, it has an intense defiance about it.
James Terry Collective’s treatment of the material is powerful and passionate.
It is marked by strong representations of the nine players, led by an unapologetic portrayal of the complex persona of Michael by Maverick Newman.
Newman skilfully navigates the light and shade in his flawed character, cutting to the quick in the process.
In fact, all the characters are well drawn. I longed to learn more about each of them … to hear more of their backstories.
The interplay between Michael and Harold and, again, between Larry and Hank is particularly caustic.
Both Newman and Gasowski are believably venomous on occasions, while Johnston’s standoffishness is a highlight, as is Mahy’s dignity.
There is a somewhat resigned air about Stratton-Smith, after a playful start.
Adolphus Waylee comes into his own as a shattered Bernard – the only African American in the group – after being the first on the blower when the game begins.
Ryan Henry’s portrayal of the girlie Emory is another standout.
As the vacuous, young male cowboy brought in to surprise the birthday boy, Harry McGinty provides much needed light relief.
And Mitchell Holland brings a holier than though attitude to bear as the provocateur Alan.
What struck me when I entered The Chapel theatre at Chapel Off Chapel was the large and impactful set.
Harry Gill has excelled with his set design, a well laid out, sprawling lounge, with bar area, rich red carpeting, saloon swinging doors and silver metallic fringe curtaining.
The piece de resistance is an Andy Warhol print of Judy Garland.
Gill and Jessamine Moffett have added appeal with their eclectic costuming choices.
One hundred minutes without interval, director Alister Smith has ripped the band aid off the trials and tribulations of gayness and we, the audience, are the beneficiaries.
Smith’s strength lies in maintaining his probing and unrelenting gaze.
The Boys in the Band is on at Chapel Off Chapel until 15th March, 2025.
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