Stuart Wood’s camp-over-camp musical returns to London in a new limited-running production playing at the Union Theatre until the end of the month. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know if this rainbow-coloured extravaganza brings more than fuss and feathers.
“What made you gay?”. It was not that long ago that those of us who didn’t the abide by the rules of heteronormativity had to face the same idiotic question over and over again. Some said it was the telly’s fault (agreed – to see only straight couples in the 90s and early 2000s causes boredom). Some others stated it was the lack of strong role models (that’s true – took me a while to learn to top it all -is there a comma missing?-). And some even claimed that it was in the water. But that’s bollocks (indeed) – in my case, it was the milk.
Same story told a thousand times. I can already hear the homophobic whining from a mile ago. “Why another queer tale? Who cares?”. Fair enough. Who cares? YOU do. If anything defines the LGBT+ community is how resiliently we’ve not only embraced but beautified what you tried to make ugly. You made it a big deal. But we beat you in the most inspiring and powerful of ways – through love. And a little bit of glitter, music and overwhelming flamboyance.
Enter Frank’s Closet. Well, he’s out but… Oh, f*ck me! Well, now that I think of it… Carrying on. No point in telling you which genre we’re talking about if it involves technicolor dreamcoats, old Hollywood divas and, among them, Dorothy’s biggest friend. A trip through memory lane (for some, I’m still young, you b*tch), the show is a nostalgic tribute to all our child selves – going through the idealistic hopes that many of us, as kids who were different to the rest, needed to lean on in order to survive.
Written and composed by Stuart Wood, the piece is a cabaret tribute act to the wishes, experiences and spangle melodies that made you spread your fairy wings back in the day (and legs too, most likely) – revolving around a middle-aged man going through a crisis while organizing his wedding. Being able to express who he really is in public, and formalize it, doesn’t seem to satisfy him anymore. But that may be precisely the issue. Perhaps, there’s something else he needs to discover about himself.
Directed by Sasha Reagan, the montage brings out a few laughs and tears through its nostalgic (and quite outrageous) charm, presenting us with a compelling premise that, behind its shimmering curtain, reveals a stage of universal themes that speak to the hearts of anyone who’s ever been deemed an outsider. Enticing as for its intentions and moderately entertaining in its form, the problem arises when it comes to its structure, which despite a generally well-defined outline, fails to construct a proper arc that allows us to connect with the character’s journey.
We can see ourselves reflected in his conflict to some extent, but there’s not that much individuality in the role of Frank to make him sufficiently inviting, and create that desired (yet not fulfilled) illusion of a new friend who, however, appears to have been with us since forever. Frank is all of us, but still needs to be himself. Sadly, the script doesn’t give him enough quirks and quarks to make him not believable (as everything he tells is basically any Bette Midler’s ally’s background) but independent as a personage. He’s relatable on the surface, but we must get acquainted with a more insightful view of who he really is – uncovering himself completely in order to touch us (yeah, I know…).
There’s still some specks of brilliance to be acknowledged – those coming, in particular, from its rather electrifying cast. A pure ball (as if those existed…) of sassy energy, the entire ensemble brings the house down through quiet a vivid and magnetic rendition; building, altogether, a much solidified basis that’s strong enough to support the whole performance. Sprinkling his gold all above them (that’s a understatement, to be honest, it’s truly a shower… oh, wait…) comes (damn it!) Luke Farrugia in the multisided part of the Diva, delivering the most outrageous and intoxicating impersonations of some of the most illustrious prima donnas every queen has secretly put their fruity sword on… I meant, as if knighted as gay icons, you dirty-minded sow (Grind*r break – delicious…). On the other hand, Andy Moss brings some discreet enchantment to the protagonist, but one can’t help but feel his portrayal still needs to mature – so far, unable to project enough zazz and spirit to his interpretation to let his persona captivate us.
A gang bang of light-loaded fun (that didn’t land as expected, but hopefully put something on your face – a smile, I mean…), Frank’s Closet provides us with every gay boy’s fantasy through its enchanting parade of tinseling reveries – wrapped under a vibrant message of acceptance, pride and resistance. A flashy reminder of the importance of staying true to oneself and, fundamentally, tell those who won’t let you to f*ck off (or s*ck it – depends on your oral skills), the show still requires a bit more tidying-up in the lower drawers before hanging its contents in front of the viewers (no double entendres, seriously); at least, if the ovation is what they’re looking for. Nonetheless, there’s more than a few streams of good substance to leave you quenched (and maybe, drenched – who knows?), so we can say it’s worth putting down the knitting, the book and the broom for this one. Well, the latter better to keep it up, actually.
All pictures credit to Danny Kaan.
Frank’s Closet plays at London’s Union Theatre until 30 March. Tickets are available on the following link.