Review of ‘Clarkston’: “New queer romance is West End’s hottest heartstopper”

Joe Locke makes his West End debut alongside Ruaridh Mollica in Samuel D. Hunter’s latest play — exploring the relationship between two young men as they cope with their hostile realities. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show to let us know if this contemporary love story mixed with traces of Lewis and Clark leads to a compelling expedition into the human spirit.

There are two major absolutes about gay theatre. The first is that plots always involve some kind of traumatic experience, though usually lighter than putting yourself through Russell Crowe’s miserable singing. The second is that its quality is, for at least 95 per cent of the time, complete and utter rubbish.

West End’s latest LGBT acquisition seems to understand the game but only plays by one of its rules. Titled Clarkston, after the Georgian small town where it’s set, the show deals with the turbulent romantic relationship between two young men — brought together but simultaneously challenged by their individual struggles.

You wouldn’t think of an uplifting evening after reading that premise. And to be fair, there’s a lot to cry about in what, in the end, is quite a heart-wrenching ride. But it would be wrong to deny the soulfulness and inspiring energy that Samuel D. Hunter’s latest work generates in the viewer.

It doesn’t offer us anything that we haven’t seen before in terms of themes or character archetypes. Two twenty-year-olds bump into each other while working at a warehouse. Jake (played by Joe Locke) has run away from his family as an act of rebellion against himself, suffering from a degenerative neurological disorder that will destroy his mobility, memories, and eventually his whole self in barely 10 years. He has a fascination with the Lewis and Clarke expedition, claiming to be the latter’s distant descendant, and eagerly going through the pages of their journal as his means of escapism.

On the other hand, Chris (played by Ruaridh Mollica) has estranged himself from his abusive, meth-addicted mother, whose manipulative tactics to lure him back include reversing the blame for her compulsion on her son’s homosexuality.

But despite how many times we’ve come across similar dramatic outlines, there is a sense of uniqueness that brims through every scene of Clarkston — and that stems from the insightfulness and authenticity Hunter has managed to encapsulate in his 90-minute life-affirming love story. It’s impossible not to fall for the protagonists’ plights — let alone resist the charm of their bond. They have found each other, and yet they’re lost in a world that, up until now, has shown them little kindness. They might not be perfect for each other, but they’re still the matching pieces of a bigger puzzle they’re bound to assemble together.

The script’s cinematic pacing solidifies the recount’s indelible grip. Its lean structure cuts directly to the point. It trims all the superfluous elements, stretching its key components to exactly the right length — allowing for the necessary buildup but never letting them take more space than required. The recipe works to a most compelling degree. The engagement materialises almost imminently, and it’s succeeded by an even more immediate and enduring investment. We can’t help but care ever so deeply about their battles — all along rooting for that happy ending we know they deserve.

There are some rare moments of incredulity, stemming from an excessively flowery prose that slightly compromises the dialogue’s flow. Jack’s university background as a Postcolonial Gender Studies student (undoubtedly, a professional safe bet) is used as an argument for his occasionally overly poetic speech. But this feels closer to an excuse than a proper justification, as its minor but still noticeable artificiality muddies the genuineness of some of his lines.

Directed by Jack Serio, his grungy staging makes for one of the production’s most arresting features. An undressed backstage area serves as the basis for its rough, industrial set design — made of nothing more than plain black brick walls and foil-covered ventilation tubes, complemented by just a few fluorescent bulbs and a steel prop shelf. At the same time, Stacey Derosier’s indie-film-style lighting weaves a vivid tapestry of evocative atmospheres, all of which accentuate the narration’s sentimental undertone while endowing the piece with a visual identity.

The refreshing quality of the show’s creative aspects is only surpassed by its excellent interpretations. Making his West End debut, Joe Lock treads the London boards with strength and determination through his sincere and generally touching portrayal of Jack.

The chemistry he shares with Ruaridh Mollica, whose fervent rendition as Chris is the ultimate highlight of the evening, is just as remarkable as it is refreshing. The level of rapport they profess to each other is nothing short of galvanizing — and the truthfulness they convey makes their performance one of the top must-sees of the season. Furthermore, Sophie Melville’s performance as Chris’s dysfunctional mother, Trisha, is deliciously harrowing — brilliantly encapsulating the role’s two-sided nature, whose apparently good intentions collide with her childish, emotionally draining temperament.

A meaningful, thought-provoking ride exploring a wide range of resonant topics, from class disparity to personal growth within and beyond sexual orientation, Clarkston places itself as a deserving and long-awaited touchstone in the queer theatre repertoire. Blessed with intelligence and overflowing with pathos, its universal proximity regardless of anyone’s own trials and tribulations makes it an honest, moving, and significant depiction of human yearning, resilience, and overcoming. Much like the hardships that any member of the LGBT community has to face in order to free themselves, the show certainly is a tough journey, but it’s worth every stage of it.

All pictures credit to Marc Brenner.

Clarkston plays at London’s Trafalgar Theatre until 22 November. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara