Stage: I wanna live forever

Fame Wh*re
writer-director Tom Ratcliffe
performer-lyricist Gigi Zahir
producer Sarah Allen
set Alys Whitehead
lighting Hugo Dodsworth
King's Head Theatre, Islington • 5-29.Oct.22

Cleverly riffing on the idea that today's youth believe that they deserve to be famous, this one-person show bristles with huge ideas relating to social media and reality television. And while it centres around a hilarious drag act, with a constant barrage of razor-sharp punchlines, it's ultimately a remarkably dark story that spirals into a series of painful emotions. Most importantly, writer Tom Ratcliffe never tries to elicit the audience's sympathy.

That job is left to performer Gigi Zahir, aka Crayola the Queen, who plays Becky Biro with an entitled sense of desperation. Becky knows that she will be a huge star, and that there's no way she won't land a spot on the hot reality competition show Drag Factor. In fact, her life can't be complete without this expected triumph. So it's galling to her that her friend and arch-rival Cindy has achieved that stardom without her. Becky has worked herself to the bone to be a success, and she's not going to be held back by her still-small number of social media followers. She has a plan to fix this, as long as it doesn't backfire.

Zahir bounds around the stage delivering earnest pleas to her followers, while offering cynical asides to the audience that reveal her deep insecurities. Although since it's in performed the round, there are a few long stretches where we're looking at the back of her huge blue wig. It's a full-bodied performance, complete with costume changes, and Zahir's boldest work is in scenes in which Becky's insincerity and self-loathing are on full display.

Becky is delusional about her importance in the world, and her friends aren't very loyal, including both Cindy and Becky's trans drag-king boyfriend Chris. These and other characters (all played by Zahir) appear on video projections that cleverly recreate FaceTime calls and a Zoom hearing of a drag council that determines Becky's fate.

In a brisk hour, Ratcliffe's script adeptly punctures the intense pressure wannabe influencers inflict on themselves about their social media status, veering from the highs of going viral to the lows of vicious trolling. To many young people, followers are the ultimate currency, and expectations are often unrealistic. There are also pointed references to cancel culture, online sex work, transphobia and violent assaults. 

Thankfully, the tone is lightened by a series of hilariously lacerating jokes and riotous pastiche songs like the bouncy Cheese Is Lovely, which Becky notes is, like her, both delicious and nutritious. So while we're hugely entertained, it's the complexity and depth of the material that leaves us with something to think about. 

photos by Charles Flint • 11.Oct.22

Stage: More than a game

World’s End
by James Corley • dir Harry Mackrill
with Tom Milligan, Mirlind Bega, Patricia Potter, Nikolaos Brahimllari
King's Head Theatre, Islington  • 27.Aug-21.Sep.19

This world premiere drama has a powerful emotional kick as it sets a darkly personal story against some pointed period events. The political angles of the plot sometimes feel a little overpowering, but James Corley's play is brought to vivid life by the talented cast and crew at the intimate King's Head Theatre, which always punches above its weight.

It opens in late 1998, as 19-year-old Ben (Milligan) and his mother Viv (Potter) move into the World's End estate in Chelsea. They've had a life shifting from place to place, and Ben is an emotional wreck as a result, frightened by his own shadow while Viv indulges his fears and allows him to hide with his videogame console, plus some secret dial-up internet browsing. Their new neighbours are widower Ylli (Brahimllari) and his 19-year-old son Besnik (Bega), who arrived in Britain years ago as refugees from Kosovo. Besnik is a lively, friendly kid who seems determined to bring Ben out of his jittery shell, and they bond as they play Ben's new videogame Zelda. Besnik is gay, something his father still struggles to accept, and the deeply closeted Ben is drawn to his confidence and relaxed openness over the next eight months as their lives change momentously.

The way these four people circle around each other is fascinating, and very easy to identify with. Viv may be far too dismissive of anything serious, pushing it into the background and hoping it goes away as she focusses on an imagined future. And Ylli is the opposite, unable to let go of his past and get on with his life. Their story arcs are powerful because of the ways they struggle to cope with their own issues. Corley's script never quite seems sure what to do with them, leaving chunks of their journeys off the stage. Still, Potter is simply wonderful, a bundle of repressed emotions and selfish urges. And Brahimllari has terrific presence as a proud man who feels wronged by the tragedies around him.

But this is actually Ben's story, and the excellent, compelling Milligan fills each scene with nervous energy, stuttering and hesitating, and very slowly coming out of his shell as his connection with Besnik develops into a rather sweet romance. The magnetic Bega maintains Besnik's swagger all the way through, subtly shifting as he quietly falls for Ben. Where their story goes is rather tough and sometimes jarring, both because of events in their lives and the way Corley's narrative skips over some key moments. But the final scene is deeply moving, mainly for what it says about how people from very different backgrounds can connect on a profound level.

Photos by Bettina Adela