The Boys in the Band, Bedlam Theatre
What makes a 1960s play about closeted gay men resonate so deeply in 2024?
When I heard that Bedlam Theatre would be putting on a production of The Boys in the Band, I was instantly keen to see how this play would be performed, as it is one of my favourites and profoundly meaningful to me personally.
Written in the 1960s, The Boys in the Band takes place entirely in one location, the flat of the main character Michael, during the birthday party of Michael’s friend, Harold. All of the birthday party attendees are gay men of various degrees of comfortability regarding their sexuality, aside from Alan, Michael’s straight friend from university who shows up unexpectedly to the party. Alan’s visit brings up feelings of shame, jealousy, and bitterness for Michael, causing the tension to build subtly throughout. This tension reaches an explosive release during the hard-to-watch 'party game' where Michael's insecurities erupt, forcing each character to confront their own vulnerabilities.
The Boys in the Band represents a bygone era of gay men, one that at times feels hard to relate to. In part, this is because the play is set in a pre-AIDS world — one that feels foreign today, given that the devastation of the AIDS epidemic is so entrenched in LGBT+ history and culture. Watching this play, I always reflect on the era that came after: many of these characters, if real, likely would not have survived the epidemic that devastated the gay community. And those who did would have become the kinds of older gay men who shaped my identity, and who I looked up to growing up in San Francisco. Watching the play, I’m reminded of the resilience and loss that would soon impact men like these characters, evoking a haunting sense of what might lie ahead for each character. In that way, this play feels like a time capsule – a preserved snapshot of queer life before a tragedy that altered the fabric of the LGBTQ+ community — as well as a bridge to the world before AIDS.
While the language and cultural references may not be as accessible to a contemporary young audience, many of the themes and points raised by the play are still worth exploring, and demonstrate its timelessness. The all-male play deals extensively with the various ways that the men hide parts of themselves to others or even themselves to deal with shame, from refusing to publicly acknowledge their sexuality to furiously combing their hair to hide a receding hairline. It demonstrates that even for men so marginalised from society and conventional ideas of manhood, we cannot fully escape the norms we are raised with. Michael tries to elevate himself and obscure his self-loathing behind the racist and antisemitic comments he makes to his friends, which feels as relevant as ever to the current political climate and cultural discourse surrounding men and their emotions. Unlike contemporary queer stories that often explore themes of self-acceptance and positive community building, this play presents an earlier, painfully honest depiction of gay men’s raw struggles with identity.
The three characters from ethnic minority backgrounds reveal the nuanced, painful effects of casual discrimination, even within close-knit friendships. Faced with racial and antisemitic remarks from those they trust, these characters often respond not with confrontation but with silence or a subtle shift in conversation, showcasing a resilience that is as heartbreaking as it is powerful. This quiet endurance highlights the isolating reality of facing prejudice from those meant to offer acceptance and solidarity. Notably, it’s not the outwardly bigoted protagonist Michael who undergoes any profound change in his views. Rather, the strength and dignity of these minority characters shine as they find moments to recognise their own complicity in tearing each other down and make amends by standing up for each other in small but meaningful ways. These moments underscore a dual need within the LGBTQ+ community: to confront its own internal racism and antisemitism and to build solidarity among its most marginalised members. Their subtle acts of resistance serve as reminders of how minoritized groups can empower one another, finding strength in shared experience and mutual support, even when acceptance is complicated by prejudice from within.
Given the difficult subject matters, I was hesitant the Bedlam cast would successfully pull the play off, as I was initially sceptical that the actors might overly emulate the performances by the actors in the recent screen adaptation released by Netflix in 2020. However, I was completely incorrect and the actors made the characters their own, offering new insights into the characters and keeping the play fresh. James Cumming (Michael) completely won me over as the play went on, with his portrayal showing the cruelty and neuroticism increasingly seeping through Michael over the course of the night. Oscar Bryan (Harold) had fantastic stage presence, and I found myself hanging off of his every word with his voice sounding like the velvet of his jacket. Noah Sarvesvaran (Emory) and Ewan Guthrie (Cowboy) were tremendously funny and never failed to capture the audience’s attention. Rufus Goodman plays his character Alan in a unique way, really emphasising his disgust, while Kikelomo Hassan brings forward Bernard’s sweetness, making Bernard one you’re rooting for throughout. Ewan Little (Donald) and Dylan Kaeuper (Hank) successfully pull off the difficult task of convincing the audience of their characters’ initially bizarre pairing, with their turns in the game being a high point of the play.
In a world that has seen monumental shifts in LGBTQ+ rights, Bedlam Theatre’s production of The Boys in the Band reminds us of the inner battles that remain timeless, teaching us to examine our own behaviour and impact on those we love around us.
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