5 Guys Chillin’, King’s Head Theatre, review

The threat and fear of violence hums just beneath the surface of 5 Guys Chillin’ from start-to-finish; a wholly uncomfortable but urgent hour of verbatim LGBT theatre which undeniably packs a punch.

It’s no mean feat to capture over 50 hours of anonymous interviews with chemsex participants, re-purpose those soundbites to form five well-rounded characters and a tightly structured, relatively naturalistic narrative, and still retain sensitivity and depth.

In that respect, Darney’s 5 Guys Chillin’ is a triumph: a slippery, confrontational and urgent look at loneliness, discontent and how violence pervades (what we believe to be) our desires. Particularly for the LGBT canon, which I often find to be lacking in subtlety and genuine insight, it’s a tour de force of a script: never sitting still, packing a series of punches and getting the balance right between being whole-heartedly bold in its exploration and breadth of themes and still tackling each with diplomacy.

Back at the King’s Head Theatre in a fittingly late-night slot (I didn’t think twice about taking my dad to see Lucy McCormick’s Triple Threat but would really struggle to watch 5 Guys Chillin’ with him, more due to brutally frank theme exploration than the unabashed nudity), the engrossing set may belong to an earlier performance of The Magic Flute but takes on ample significance here. With overgrown vines climbing up every wall and draping from the ceiling, a jungle setting feels just about appropriate to watch five characters battle to balance primal and unbridled desires for physical sex with a uniquely human strive for emotional connection (and just basic acceptance).

The piece is undoubtedly damning of chemsex (for the uninitiated, a gay subculture of engaging in, often weekend-long, orgies fuelled by sexually disinhibiting drugs). And rightly so; frequent studies directly link it to alarming rates of HIV infection and there’s not much to celebrate about a type of environment where music and debauchery continues after someone collapses in a drug-induced seizure. But it does well to not feel like a smug PSHE lesson, a testament to both Darney’s careful construction of the source material and to credible and nuanced performances across the board.

This production features a brand new cast from its previous acclaimed runs in Edinburgh, Brighton and London, and their performances are captivating and confident. Gareth Watkins, Tom Ratcliffe, David Palmstrom, George Fletcher and George Bull all demonstrate superb understandings of nuance, and that often what their characters are not saying is equally as important as what they are. For me, Ratcliffe’s ‘R’ is the most devastating and well-realised. He admittedly gets to deliver some of the most painful and lingering lines of the night, but does so without ever becoming the stereotype that it’d be so easy for his character to fall into if it wasn’t for great care. The mere precision at which Ratcliffe hugs someone he’s not met before when he arrives demonstrates just the right amount and type of vulnerability, essential to the later lines packing the punch they deserve. Watkins’ ‘B’ is perhaps the other stand-out, depicting a threatening character that we’re led to believe has the most deep-rooted anger and potential for violence inside him.

I wanted to end by saying that, in my years of avid theatre consumption, I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed dialogue pervaded by quite so much of a threat of violence. I’ve no idea if that’ll make sense to anyone else and sorry if it doesn’t; I’m not talking about a visible or tangible violence but something less palpable (and perhaps therefore more terrifying). 5 Guys Chillin’ isn’t an easy watch (in fact it’s tragic to the extent it’s traumatising), but it’s certainly a necessary one. Expect to feel empty and actually just quite upset at the end, even if the world of chemsex is entirely alien to you. It’s powerful material, delivered by a powerful cast – and I highly recommend it.