When playwright Kathrine Smith wrote All I See Is You, it marked half a century since the (partial) decriminalisation of homosexuality. But for the play’s characters, who meet and fall for each other months before the passing of legislation in 1967, change doesn’t come soon enough.
Smith’s play opens at full pelt, as shop worker Bobby and trainee teacher Ralph passionately collide. With barely a scrap of backstory, their lives smash into one another, leaving them smitten but bruised.
Despite an immediate connection, the threat of discovery – which would mean an end to Ralph’s career aspirations, and could spell prison for them both – prises the pair apart.
Having set off at such a pace, the show struggles to retain that intensity. Following different paths – sexual exploration for Bobby, anxious suppression for Ralph – the two characters are never quite as electric as when together. Inevitably, the men are drawn back into each other’s arms, though the law is soon at their heels.
Smith’s play is deeply rooted in Manchester and Bolton and has drawn inspiration from the accounts of gay men who lived through the 1960s. That underpinning research and firm sense of place anchor the drama, lending it a vivid specificity despite the production’s austere black backdrop.
The stark minimalism of Ben Occhipinti and Mark Powell’s staging trains attention on the performances which are compelling from the first moments. As Bobby, Ciarán Griffiths is a jittery bundle of energy, at once nervous and bold. Christian Edwards’ Ralph, by contrast, is as buttoned-up as his waistcoat, holding himself stiffly inside the facade he’s carefully built.
There are moments of awkwardness in both script and staging, as well as a note of uncertainty in the relationship between characters and the audience. Often, while one performer addresses us directly to share their story, the other seems at a slight loss.
But by the painful final scenes, it’s the convincing relationship at the play’s centre that comes to the fore. As an indictment of repressive laws and a celebration of hidden histories, Smith’s play has an undeniable emotional force.
• At Hope Mill theatre, Manchester, until 1 June.
