My Son's a Queer

Review: My Son’s a Queer (But what can you do?)

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During lockdown, some people discovered fitness, others discovered binge-eating, and some discovered themselves, whilst musical theatre performer Rob Madge rediscovered a collection of old videos of themselves putting on shows and recreating Disneyland parades in their parents’ living room. They shared the videos online, and people loved them, so they turned them into a show. Following runs off West End, at the Edinburgh Fringe, in Norwich, and on the West End (twice), Rob has now taken the show on the road, visiting HOME Manchester, as part of Pride at HOME, on the final stop of its UK tour.

The title is a rewritten (now cut) line from Les Misérables – “This one’s a queer but what can you do?” – which sums up Rob’s obsession with musical theatre. They’re not just a gay; they’re a musical theatre gay. Whilst it’s a show for everyone, there are a few references that only fellow musical theatre nerds will understand: whilst most jokes have the audience in hysterics, there are a few musical-focused jokes that charmingly receive scattered chuckles (such as a comment on the number seven – “like Henry VIII’s six wives and the swing”).

The play, a one-person show, is basically a 75-minute monologue, in which Rob takes us through their childhood – from birth to starring in the 25th anniversary concert of Les Misérables at The O2. Rob’s credits go beyond that – they also starred in the show on the West End, in the original casts of Disney’s Bedknobs and Broomsticks and Millennials The Musical, and more. But the show is not a celebration of Madge’s glittering career, and where they are now, but rather a celebration of their childhood – and what got them to where they are now.

The set is simple but camp, with a chair in the far corner of the stage left that Rob sometimes sits in – but they’re never stuck there (I don’t think Rob is able to sit still, to be fair). Director Luke Shepperd and design team Ryan Dawson Laight (set and costume), Jai Morjaria (lighting) and Tingying Dong (sound) have lovingly recreated a version of Madge’s living room that, whilst charmingly simple, transforms into Disneyland with the help of lighting and costume. It’s all very whimsical and dreamlike.

The production heavily makes use of the screen, with countless home videos shared. Rob guides us through them, sometimes narrating, sometimes commentating, and other times engaging with them more directly – hilariously.

The songs, written by Madge and Pippa Cleary, are witty, sassy and charming; they are as heartfelt as they are hilarious. It’s not a musical but, rather, a play with music; the few songs are but one component of this vivid dream that feels very much like organised chaos.

An autobiographical one-person show sounds self-indulgent, but whilst the show is ostensibly about Madge, it’s about so much more. It’s about the people around them – and other queer people (who feel seen and represented, and who might even be aided in understanding themselves).

Indeed, this is not really a show about Madge discovering their queerness but, rather, about the people around them figuring it out. A curse of being queer is that other people often know you’re queer before you know yourself – but this curse can actually be a blessing in disguise, and it sure was for Madge. Madge’s parents and grandparents were incredibly supportive of their queerness (which manifested itself in dressing up and making home videos) – especially their dad, who often dressed up (sometimes in drag). Whilst teachers, kids, and Disney shop assistants (“Retail TERFs”) sometimes shamed them, their family always had their back.

Madge acknowledges their privilege. Towards the end of the show, they show a photo of a mother and son – the mother loves her trans son but other parents won’t let their kids be friends with him (I thought I wasn’t going to cry but there’s always something that gets me!).

Rob wishes that everybody was as fortunate as they were, and a late song encourages people to love the amazing queer people in their life (“There’s joy to be had if you choose to look, and even for those that decide not to stay, we will be loved anyway”). At its core, the show is a dazzling cri de coeur for parents to embrace their children no matter what – after all, if your son’s a queer, what can you do?

You can love them.

My Son’s a Queer (But what can you do?) runs at HOME (Theatre 1) until August 25.

Photo: Mark Senior