The Chemsex Monologues

Where to start? In this case it is probably best to start with Patrick Cash, the writer.

Cash has an incredible knack of taking subject matter that doesn’t on the surface appear to be engaging or worth investing in and turning it into something irresistibly immersive and this is not fluke. He has pulled this off consistently with The Clinic, Queers and now this piece.

It’s because everything he does is about people. Although technically this piece is a collection of monologues it is actually much more. The Chemsex Monologues is very ingeniously an interwoven mesh of narratives that all stream from one community. A community and a scene that Cash is quite gloriously aware of and fully understands in all its unique idiosyncrasies.

There was nothing but the truth here.

Chemsex and its recent media attention has subsequently clouded and distorted the initial motivations of people like David Stuart and 56 Dean Street, who’ve strived to raise awareness of the situation and provide support for the people trying to navigate it.

To quote fag hag Cath “I’m just trying to care for you”.

Although our players speak of sex, cock and cum, it is never vulgar or crass. Tales of finger tips sliding over the grooves of ribs and slotting between the ridges of perfect abs was not uncomfortably sexual because it was soaked in love and peppered with romance. Gay romance at that, as Rich Watkins character confesses:

“As a modern homosexual male I might imagine myself, I realised how unused I was to public displays of intimacy with another man in daylight hours.”

At several points throughout this piece the characters on stage refer to themselves or their friends whom we never meet but we see appear through the actor’s skilful performances as ‘nameless’. Nameless they may temporarily be, but invisible they never could be. There’s something unapologetic and poignant about Cash’s writing and Luke Davies’ direction that gives these loveable bunch of misfits free rein and full licence to never be invisible in the story of their own lives. Something we all could learn from. We never truly are invisible in our own lives unless we pay the ultimate price of chemsex, which we all know only too well is being fatally absent from life. A powerful message in a perfect piece of theatre.

Rich Watkins opens the play and is a character I could tell was based on Pat Cash himself. A brave feat for a writer to share his own life with us so visibly. Rich’s character was a calm and grounded, beautifully lucid purveyor of the proceedings.

Denholm Spurr bounded on stage in a pair of ‘sex party’ booty shorts. What started off as a disposable and stereotypical anecdote quickly spiralled into a beautiful and harrowing tale of lust, love, vulnerability fragile ‘heros’ and brotherly compassion with some unexpected iambic pentameter thrown in to galvanise the gravity of this ‘G’ OD.

Fag hag Cath played by Charly Flyte was oh too familiar from the off and quite easily dislikeable. She popped up at one of those gear shift moments from director Davies. But after the initial ‘raised eyebrow’ moment and trite chillout chat she nestled in and scratched her own surface for us to peer beneath the communal fake tan.

Matthew Hodson actually stole the show for me. This character and his charming naivety, brave heart, flamboyant fragility and older brother protectiveness was perfect. Allowing us to view this whole set up from the uninitiated’s point of view, giving rise to an abundance of camp comedy. A line that stuck with me which he delivered without sensationalism was

“Ecstasy from ancient Greek, meaning to be or stand outside oneself. Why do so many gay men want to be outside themselves”

Rich Watkins returned to the stage to wrap up the experience but not before he shared one last experience which was as tragic as it was endearing.

“Already I was wondering whether this boy’s beauty would save me from the intoxicating wish to dull my own shine. Perhaps he would strum the chord of happiness.”

All in all this was 70 minutes of gold standard theatre. The Chemsex Monologues will make you laugh, cry, think, love, hurt and hope. There is not a single weak link in this chain.

• The Chemsex Monologues is at The RVT, 372 Kennington Lane, on Saturday 11th June at 2pm. Tickets £15.

• You can buy tickets here: https://www.gmfa.org.uk/Event/csm-june2016

 Text by Greg Owen Photos: Dionysis Livanis

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