Fast Love ~ [Lion and Unicorn Theatre] ~ Review

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It’s the week before LGBTQ+ Pride in London and homosexuals, bisexuals, transgender, non-binary, and other folk from all colours of the Pride spectrum are getting ready to celebrate the relatively recent allowance we’ve been granted in this country – the freedom to be ourselves. It’s the perfect time for FAST LOVE, the most honest and personally relatable piece of queer theatre I’ve ever seen. Whilst arguably not the most unique or clever gay play to grace the London stage, FAST LOVE is undeniably important, and for anyone who thinks that Pride is unnecessary I’d suggest watching it and then getting back to me.

On stepping out of the theatre after FAST LOVE I wasn’t sure how I could write an objective review about it without being sentimental... but, here’s the thing folks, theatre is sentimental, it’s the most sentimental form of art there is, it’s live storytelling, we’ve been doing it since we lived in caves, and of course it’s going to evoke a very emotional response in its audience. Such an honest and open piece of theatre deserves an honest and open review in response, so here it goes, sentiment an’ all...

Fast Love is a one act, two hander play that tells the story of a young gay man looking back on his life and the moments that defined him. It’s a standard set-up, it’s been done a dozen times before, but Fast Love is different because it feels real. It’s not sensationalised, it has no agenda (gay or otherwise), and it’s subtle and over the top in a way only real life can be. Its main focus is mental health and the impact that our society’s treatment of LGBTQ people has on that. I’ll never forget the day a close friend of mine turned around to me and recommended I see a therapist. “But I’m alright,” I protested, “No you’re not,” he replied, “You’re gay, none of us are alright.” And it was then that I took a long, hard look at my queer friends and realised that he was right, none of us had escaped our teenage years unscathed and we all had demons we had to do battle with every day. This is what Fast Love captures so beautifully, not the drama of coming out to an unaccepting family or the struggles of adopting children, or getting beaten to within an inch of your life by homophobes, no, this is the story of a guy who has lived a pretty standard young gay life, no ‘dun dun dundun dundun’ Eastenders cliffhanger moments, just the hundreds of little, insignificant struggles queer folk encounter on a daily basis.

Camp, fun, and packed with tongue in cheek wit, FAST LOVE is deliciously disarming – we’re given a rundown of key milestones in the life of Rory, our protagonist, as he introduces himself to his latest Grindr hook-up. Jeremy Franklin plays Rory with an infectious confidence which masks his deep insecurities impeccably until the moments in which that mask slips and we catch a glimpse of his deep vulnerability. Although he could afford to slow down at times, Franklin brings a great deal of depth to this character and throws his heart and soul into it with an admirable raw courage. Over the course of this hour long show it feels like making a friend, reminiscing about drinking too many WKDs at house parties and being very underwhelmed by your first kiss. It’s relatable for anyone of a certain generation, gay or straight, but LGBTQ audience members will recognise the complexities in these stories and how they differ from the heterosexual experience. That first kiss, for example, probably wasn’t with someone we had any attraction to, because at high school no way could you ever share your first kiss with someone of the same gender, not if you wanted to survive to do your GCSEs! Being queer comes with difficulties that it’s almost impossible to fully understand for anyone who hasn’t experienced it. Watching Fast Love was like experiencing an hour of deja vu – practically every scene could have been a verbatim anecdote from one of my friend’s lives.

Sven Ironside plays The Man, amongst a collection of other side characters Rory has interactions with throughout his flashbacks, he also acts as a helpful mediator between the audience and Rory, who is not the most reliable of narrators, and holds him accountable whenever he misremembers an event, whether intentionally or not. Ironside brings a fresh physicality to each new character and throws himself into each role with gusto.

The set is simple but effective, a white bedroom with white walls, white sheets, and white furniture, disrupted by a rainbow of confetti which quite literally explodes onstage in the opening scene, a great visual representation of Rory’s state of mind. It’s not until nearer the end of the play that we start to get the sense that things are really not okay and that, try as he might, Rory can’t find his place in a world which wasn’t built for people like him. It feels like having a DMC (deep, meaningful conversation) with your bestie at 3am, it feels like not knowing how to help them. Stuck in a rut of trying to find connection through casual sexual encounters, then made to feel ashamed and alone by the lack of relief they provide and doing it all again to distract from feeling so utterly helpless... Rory’s story is a common one.

“These intense pockets of one on one contact are like anaesthetic to me,” he says, at which point it feels like someone has charged a battering ram into my gut.

That’s the thing people get wrong about the struggles of LGBTQ people. It’s not that we’re all getting beaten up or spat on on a daily basis, it’s not that we’re all laying emaciated in a hospital bed as AIDS consumes our diseased bodies, it’s not that we’re all being raped or castrated or drugged or any of the other horrendous ordeals we’ve been subjected to historically (and in some parts of the world currently). No, the thing that breaks us is a society which tells us every day, in a hundred small and subtle ways, that we’re abnormal, we’re ‘other’, we’re less worthy of love and peace and security, we’re, at best, an afterthought, simply because of the way we’re wired to love. That’s why we can’t touch, why we can’t feel, why we can’t connect, and that’s what’s killing us. And this, dear readers, is what FAST LOVE conveys with intelligent and unflinching honesty.

Fast Love ~ [The Lion and Unicorn Theatre] ~ Review
★★★★