First performed in 1968, The Boys in the Band, by Mart Crowley, is being revived for the first time in 20 years. Set in New York among a group of gay friends, it stars Mark Gatiss as Harold, the birthday boy. He is funny – and sad – as a fortysomething sinister, neurotic Jew with a black curly wig, shades and an awkwardly pristine green velvet jacket. His gestures are mincingly deliberate, his misery evident. Surprise gift from Emory (an affected and affecting James Holmes) is a male hustler (charmingly played by Jack Derges), an absurd, self-styled “midnight cowboy”. Party host Michael is convincingly played by Ian Hallard, who drinks himself from amiability to cruelty, insisting on a crucifying game in which guests phone a person they love to confess their sentiments.
It is a play that investigates a love that, in 60s Manhattan, still dared not speak its name. Its entertainments are always underscored by pain. What is enjoyable and unusual in a piece of this kind is the generous size of the cast. There are eight guests at Harold’s party, all gay except Alan, Michael’s old college mate (excellently played by John Hopkins), who turns up unexpectedly, in bad shape. How will he react?
I was rapt, barely noticed the time pass. Parties that go wrong are often the stuff of great drama (think of Mike Leigh’s Abigail’s Party, Pinter’s The Birthday Party, TS Eliot’s The Family Reunion) and this play, directed with panache by Adam Penford, is no exception.
