Riot Act, King’s Head Theatre, review

A heartfelt tribute to intergenerational gay activists, Riot Act‘s respectful and unfussy form acknowledges that the words and actions of its three interviewees are more than worthy of an ovation alone. It’s arresting and intelligent verbatim theatre – absolutely not to be missed.

There’s a generosity to Alexis Gregory’s latest verbatim piece that distinguishes Riot Act from the ever-growing canon of LGBT solo shows. Made specifically for the King’s Head Theatre’s 2018 queer season, this arresting, frequently angry and consistently intelligent hour is anything but a chance for Gregory (a more-than-competent performer) to show off. There’s a hell of enough acting prowess on display here to deserve praise, but this performer couldn’t be less interested.

The show’s a heartfelt and respectful tribute to intergenerational gay activists, provocateurs and changemakers. Riot Act‘s unfussy form (three back-to-back verbatim monologues, a simple costume change delineating each) acknowledges that the words, and actions, of Michael-Anthony Nozzi (a rare remaining survivor of the Stonewall Riots), Lavinia Co-Op (radical drag artiste)  and Paul Burston (queer activist) are, alone, more than worthy of an ovation. All three participants are exceptionally well-cast. Articulate, unpredictable and fascinating; the audience rightfully hang off every word.

There’s a satisfying generosity to all interviewees too, and as a result, a poignant symmetry to each ‘act’. As they finish recounting markedly different lived experiences, there’s unity in their closing remarks: ‘you can use anything! Anything I’ve said. Do what you like with it.’ Gregory aptly leaves all three recurring instance into drill the point, and the purpose of this theatrical undertaking, home. These stories, struggles and sacrifices must stay in discourse. Not only if and when – but particularly if and when – the original tellers are no longer around to recount them.

To that end, the piece seems timely – an urgent and necessary education for gays and straights alike. ‘There’s more to us, and this, than f!*$ing Drag Race.‘ could easily exist as some sort of alternate title. If you’ve done your reading (Faderman’s ‘The Gay Revolution: The Story of the Struggle’ is a mammoth historical text, but certainly made me conscious of the extent to which I’m indebted to previous generations), perhaps little that Riot Act touches on is brand new – but for the ‘initiated’, it’s equally important: enforcing and humanising the past, bringing it to life beyond a somewhat dense textbook, hammering home its significance.

Of course, Riot Act‘s ‘simple’ form doesn’t by any means mean the production itself is ‘simplistic’. Gregory and director Rikki Beadle-Blair are of course responsible for how fluid and slick each monologue seems. Smart crafting of interviewee responses (which one assumes were originally answers to questions, and a dialogue) make the three sections seem like perfectly fluent monologues, and clever structuring ensures the three accounts feel ever-interconnected, as if in dialogue with each other.

It’s interesting (though not a problem) that everything the interviewees say is fairly universally agreeable. Considering all three have devoted their lives to being provocative, I was perhaps waiting for a moment where someone contradicted another. Nevertheless, the audience nods along to everything that seemingly all-knowing individuals are talking about: from the discrimination prevalent with the gay community itself (summed up by Nozzi as a ‘sea of alligators’, a reference to the conformist practices of the Lacoste-wearing ‘homonorm’ around the time of the Stonewall Inn riots) to the fact we need to come out every day (it’s not something which happens and is over with) to the ‘often written out’ role of women, and the lesbian community, in the gay rights movement. Perhaps the most thought-provoking moment of the night comes from the astute comment that ‘aids made us visible. Without aids activism, we wouldn’t be where we are’.

Little is at fault in Riot Act. I personally wasn’t a fan, or entirely sure of the purpose, of Gregory being amplified in such a tiny space. His voice could have easily filled the small space of the King’s Head Theatre without, and the effect of the microphone (a tinny, slightly cold sound) was perhaps ever-so-slightly distancing and incongruous with the warmth of the words. A very small niggle, though, in an otherwise sublime and ‘responsible’ piece of verbatim theatre.