If I told you that a re-enactment of a speech by Margaret Thatcher was done in such a way that elicited cheering and applause from some (but by no means all, I hasten to add) in the press night audience at the Royal Court, would you think I was trying to pull your leg? Well, it happened, in a show which draws from the speeches and parliamentary remarks from various political leaders around the time of the introduction of the Local Government Act 1988, and specifically Section 28, in which local authorities in England, Scotland and Wales were not “to intentionally promote homosexuality or publish material with the intention of promoting homosexuality” or “promote the teaching in any maintained school of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship”. It is no spoiler to say that Section 28 has since been removed from the statute books, though this show asserts the effects continue to this day, because it was law for long enough for an entire generation of school pupils to leave school without having ever heard anything positive about homosexuality.
There must be some people in the LGBT+ community who don’t care much for nightclubs and dancing – perhaps unsurprisingly, this is not a show for them, though there was some entertainment value in seeing (a version of) the Iron Lady strutting her stuff at the 1987 Conservative Party Conference. I wondered if Thatcher had pushed someone over after her speech because they fell to the floor. The script clarifies one of her ‘fans’ “faints from over-excitement”.
It’s a curious production, really, giving life to parliamentary contributions by setting them to music – though it is largely quite similar music, pulsating beats and rhythms that wouldn’t be out of place at the Ministry of Sound, giving – inadvertently (to use a favoured word in the House of Commons) – credence to the idea that Members of Parliament are more or less ‘all the same’. In setting MPs verbatim remarks to music, however, the ‘lyrical’ (inverted commas mine) structure is all over the place.
Verbatim comments from others, such as lesbian activists who took direct action and gay men who recounted their experiences from their school days, are given the opportunity to breathe more freely, and the show allows the audience to appreciate one person’s story at a time, instead of and introducing too many people at once and then flitting between different characters. The show is nuanced enough to go beyond an oversimplistic ‘activists good, politicians bad’ storyline: some politicians were on the gay community’s side, and some activists didn’t always have the confidence and assertiveness strong campaigns pretty much demand.
It’s certainly very informative – no prior knowledge of the era is required. The result is a revelation for those who didn’t know what happened, and a reminder for those who did. A mix of dramatization and storytelling may not fully satisfy those who prefer to be shown rather than told, though some still and moving images projected onto the rear wall of the stage provide some useful supplementary context.
Despite being sub-headed ‘A Section 28 Musical’, this is more of a play with accompanying live music. The same song bookends the show, which largely involves characters singing the words “Stop Section 28” over and over again. I’m not sure that was the most effective way of emphasising that the fight for equality goes on. Nonetheless, the show was warmly received, and rightly so – this story of how an ostensible desire to ‘protect’ school pupils ended up being quite destructive to some of them instead deserves to be told. An engaging and impassioned experience.
Review by Chris Omaweng
Abseiling lesbians! Queers in the classroom! Moral panic in the streets! And an act of oppression that inspired a generational riot.
In 1988, a law banned the ‘promotion’ of homosexuality in schools. Now, this electrifying new musical tells the story of Section 28 – and the teachers, pupils and activists who lived through it.
COMPANY
Calie Hough – Drummer and Performer
Ericka Posadas (she/they) – Performer
Nkara Stephenson (he/they) – Performer
Zachary Willis (he/him) – Performer
Ellice Stevens (she/they) – Performer
Frew (he/they) – Musical Director and Performer
Chad Saint Louis – Understudy
CREATIVES
Billy Barrett and Ellice Stevens – Writers
Frew (he/they) – Composer
Billy Barrett (he/him) – Director
Bethany Wells (she/her) – Set and Costume Designer
Jodie Underwood (she/they) – Lighting Designer
Owen Crouch (he/him) – Sound Designer
Zakk Hein (he/him) – Video Designer
Sung Im Her (she/her) – Choreographer
A Breach production commissioned by New Diorama
Originally co-produced by Brighton Dome and Festival, HOME, New Diorama and Warwick Arts Centre
AFTER THE ACT
Jerwood Theatre Downstairs at the Royal Court
21 May to 14 June 2025
