After premiering at the New Diorama Theatre in 2023 and touring the UK, Breach Theatre’s verbatim musical about Section 28 – the heinous legislation introduced in the late ’80s to prevent the ‘promotion’ of homosexuality in schools – lands at the Royal Court Theatre after some tweaking and with a mostly different four-strong ensemble cast. It’s funnier, sharper and more damning than ever before.
Co-writers Ellice Stevens and Billy Barrett have shaped the testimony of teachers, activists and students into songs drawing on the stylings of New Wave and electronica. The production starts with the recollections of the lesbians who famously ambushed Sue Lawley during a live news broadcast in protest at Section 28. The wryly hysterical re-enactment of this event, hitting a bigotry-skewering cartoon level of energy, is the strength of Barrett’s staging, which leans even more into this now.
The first half of the production goes big to puncture the poisonous balloon parade of politicians, pundits and homophobic media outlets who created Section 28 by cynically whipping up panic over children’s book Jenny Lives with Eric and Martin and misinformation about HIV/AIDS. There’s even a show-stopping re-enactment of the moment when enterprising protestors abseiled into the House of Lords during the legislation’s reading.
Stevens (also performing as part of the ensemble) has a ball as a lasciviously awful Maggie Thatcher after the interval. But where strengthening the bombast of the first half pays off is in accentuating the contrast with the devastating testimonies of teenagers and teachers whose lives were – in some cases – permanently harmed by the aftermath of Section 28. The quiet anguish feels that much louder after all the clowning noise.
The ensemble is great at matching their performances to the varying proportions of the script, helped by the deft music direction of Frew and the production’s on-stage band. They may wink at the audience, but it’s a knowingness fuelled by an intrinsic sense of the injustice of Section 28. And the show drops its satirical smile to powerfully address the similar discrimination faced by trans people now.
The second half still has the issue – after the first half so comprehensively explains why Section 28 came into being – of only fuzzily hand-waving at why the law was ultimately repealed. However, what it lacks in exposition, it makes up for by recreating the joyful defiance of Manchester Pride and the fierce love of community.
