Review: After The Act (Royal Court)

Review by Raphael Kohn

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

We don’t even need to be told at this point how timely the lessons of Section 28 are. Since this verbatim musical premiered in 2023, its call for tolerance, acceptance and embracing of the entire LGBTQ+ community has become even more poignant, following recent governmental decisions and court judgements ramping up social prejudice against trans people especially. But now, on stage at the Royal Court Theatre, there’s a terrific reminder, told through musical theatre and in the words of the very bigots, politicians, and activists who made history itself happen.

If you don’t know what Section 28 was, then all the more reason for this show’s existence. An awful piece of legislation brought into law under none other than Margaret Thatcher, it prohibited any mention in schools of the existence of queer relationships and families, such as in any published materials or any teaching. It didn’t come out of nowhere, mind; it was just one part of a hostile and angrily homophobic culture – a culture which sets the stage for a rather unique musical told verbatim (told through dialogue taken directly from interviews, speeches and archives).

These quotes are assembled well into a play by Billy Barrett (also director) and Ellice Stevens (also acting on stage). It's mostly chronological, tracing the history of Section 28 from a parents’ group protest against a children’s book about a family with two dads, to the arrival of HIV/AIDS, to the passing of Section 28 itself and through its effect on a wide variety of characters. Half told straight to the audience with no fourth wall in sight, it’s as if the interviews are being re-enacted live in front of us, each actor on stage embodying the real person behind the lines. The other half… well, it’s a musical.

So through songs (expertly written by composer Frew to remix the words into 80s-style bangers), they take delight in singing their way through slurs and insults that are frankly unprintable here, unreservedly presenting the nasty truth of this piece of our history without fear. It’s surprisingly funny, in a way, which it’s supposed to be, of course. But hidden in that humour is something much more important, rearing its head just when needed to hit the harder points home.

When it gets to the serious stuff – the fear of dying from AIDS, the fear of being outed, the fear of mentioning anything related to being LGBTQ+ and its risk of unemployment, then it truly starts to shine. After all, as much as we can laugh at homophobes in history (and we do), at the end of the day, their actions caused, and continue to cause, tremendous damage to people across the country. Thankfully, none of this is shied away from in After The Act, tackling serious topics just as carefully as the lighter side of things.

It's impressively done in a small way, which feels apt for the production’s fringe origins. Premiering at the 90-seat New Diorama Theatre originally, it feels that, despite its transfer to the Royal Court’s larger venue, it still retains its fringe charm. There are four actors, two musicians, and only a handful of props. Bethany Wells’ set is minimal, setting the entire production in a school gym and mostly comprised of benches and gym equipment (splashed with pink, because… why not!). Her white back wall is paired well with Zakk Hein’s video design, setting each scene and introducing each actor. And beyond that, there’s very little going on.

That really pins the focus squarely on the actors and their words, delivered naturally and fluidly like real dialogue despite their verbatim nature. It works stunningly. The onstage quartet are fiery, Ericka Posadas, Nkara Stephenson, Ellice Stevens and Zachary Willis driving the plot at breakneck pace through song, dance, and speech. Not even a couple of show stops the night I went could stop them, with slight technical difficulties even managing to somehow invigorate them even more. And while sometimes their passion overcame their singing, faltering slightly through Frew’s pulsating score, it’s hardly an impediment to their talent.

The score itself really is brilliant, despite its small orchestration of just one multi-instrumentalist and one drummer, both hidden in the wings. Not a single song feels like a weak link, nor do any of the songs feel extraneous. I mean, taking Margaret Thatcher’s infamous 1987 Conservative Party Conference speech and turning it into a drag-like power ballad to open the second act is a move of pure genius, and it is this spirit of sublimely intelligent writing that underpins everything in this show.

It trips over itself slightly as it hurtles towards the end, with its very clear morals about the treatment of LGBTQ+ people in 2025 being slightly excessively over-stated. It’s an important message to carry, no doubt. But Breach (the production company led by Barrett and Stevens) can almost afford to trust themselves more. They’ve made a terrific piece of art, which carries a crystal-clear message about needing to protect our trans loved ones today; overly obvious polemics only serve to slow down the otherwise excellent production.

But these are truly minor qualms. At the end of the day, After The Act is a soul-crushing but ultimately uplifting musical that balances the light with the serious and moves just as much as it entertains. On stage in 2025 of all years, it is essential viewing – probably the most important political cautionary tale you’ll see all year. If only it were fiction.

After The Act plays at the Royal Court Theatre until 14th June 2025. Tickets from https://royalcourttheatre.com/whats-on/after-the-act/

Photos by Alex Brenner