Review: The F****ts and Their Friends Between Revolutions

The F****ts and Their Friends Between Revolutions (uncensored), which is based on the 1977 book of the same name by Larry Mitchell, is one of the most unique pieces of theatre that I have ever seen. It is indescribable and uncategorisable. It shuns conventions in a rebellion against the status quo. It is, to put it simply, queer.

The production is more music-theatre, or play with music than musical theatre. The band are a part of the show. Not only are they onstage with the cast but they are part of the action. The actors also do double duty as instrumentalists. At one point, almost every performer takes up a violin. Some are visibly less familiar with the instrument and play a single note to a drone, but they work together in tandem, resulting in a beautiful display of unity.

Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the production is that not a single member of the cast plays a character. There are no characters; just storytellers. The cast is made up of a diverse ensemble celebrating their collective queerness. They are “f****ts” and “friends”.

The play begins with a person standing defiantly at the edge of the stage, looking out at the audience, who are all visible to them because the house lights are still up. They hum graciously and sing wordlessly before eventually singing, “It’s been a long time, and we are still not free”. At this moment, it becomes clear what this play is about: queer struggle, perseverance and celebration.

The play is set in a fictional land, Ramrod, metaphoric from our own. The “storytellers” recap two previous revolutions and prepare for the next – the final revolution, where “f****ts” will finally be free.

In this world, all people were originally “f****ts” before some, hungry for power and control, separated themselves and proclaimed themselves “men”. Perhaps this is a nod to attitudes to sexuality regressing over time, especially with the invention and spread of Abrahamic religions. In pre-Christian Ancient Rome, there was no heterosexual and homosexual; people of the same sex could marry. Modern studies show that most people are bisexual – have we collectively denied ourselves?

“F****t”, perhaps, means “free”. Indeed, the play reclaims the pejorative, rinsing the word of its oppression. “We sing the word f****t lovingly, hundreds of times,” the creatives told The Guardian. At first, hearing the slur said flippantly was a little uncomfortable but it was said so often, and so proudly, that I soon became desensitised to it. In fact, it became celebratory. The word was effortlessly reclaimed.

The show’s star is Olivier winner Kit Green, a non-binary writer, creative and performer. They exude glamour and grace, complimented by their lovely costumes – especially that red dress. Mid-way through the show, Kit breaks out of character – well, storyteller – and addresses the audience. This is followed by a singalong, which is, itself, followed by the cast singing the song. It felt very inclusive and celebratory.

The play’s ‘vibe’ is both grimy and glamorous. It’s a great representation of Manchester, which I characterise as gritty but gay. There are stripped-back and understated moments, such as the aforementioned opening number, and extravagant moments, such as riotous club dancing. The choreography is magnificent. The stage is full of bodies, sets and instruments yet everybody onstage moves around so smoothly. It’s a great display of diversity and unity.

The F****ts and Their Friends Between Revolutions runs at HOME (Theatre 1), as part of Manchester International Festival, until July 2.