Margaret Thatcher: Queen of Soho
5 big, shiny stars for this Playhouse show.
Oh my goodness, what a show. A glorious camp explosion. I step in and within minutes I am singing along to YMCA, eyes blinded by the disco ball: If only every day could be a gay cabaret! Margaret Thatcher (Matt Tedford) and The Wets (Ed Yellend and Nico Lennon) hold the stage and deliver a brave, nonsensical and dynamic show. The audience tickled and delighted as Maggie answers the question: ‘how did you go from being leader of the United Kingdom to the best cabaret performer in the world?’
In this reality, rather than pushing forward Section 28 – a homophobic piece of legislation aiming to protect school children from gay ‘propaganda’ – the lady herself is reborn in a gay club in Soho getting on down to It’s Raining Men (you've got to see it). The cast holds the audience captive with excellent and ridiculous musical numbers- highlights include Thatcher’s rendition of Always a Woman to Me which leaves me crying from laughter, and the cape clad trio performing I Need a Hero, complete with crime-busting props and a bit of theatre magic from the heroine, who ends the song levitating, superman style, above the stage. (I think she just laid flat on a stool. Anyway, I was impressed).
The stage is surprisingly busy for such a minimal cast. The pace is relentless. The boys behind Thatcher jump from character to character – ranging from gay rights campaigner Peter Tatchell to a Spitting Image-esque portrait Churchill. The show is complete with sound bites (Haringey Council: We’re a bunch of lesbians!) and a bold lightshow. Jon Brittain’s script is self-aware and playful - making it impossible to tell genuine mistakes from slapstick bickering. Everything is over the top – way way over. There is a strong touch of Pantomime as we are invited to boo the villain, Jill Knight, a Conservative peer. Normally I'd have none of that nonsense but tonight, despite being seated on my own, the sight of Maggie ripping off her bottoms to reveal a sparkling golden mini skirt is just too much: a small, excited, cheer escapes me. The disco ball is pivotal. I am totally seduced.
The director and cast manage to take this painful piece of LGBT history and transform it into a spectacle of rambunctious gaiety – although not all poignancy is lost. The play takes a moving turn as Thatcher reads Jenny lives with Eric and Martin (the 'gay propaganda' at hand) for herself, to discover it's 'not that bad'. She is five G&Ts in, on a Soho dance floor, when she realises in a soliloquy to the audience that being gay is not something to hide, but something to be proud of. This is the first time – but prey not the last – that I have felt tears in my eyes while watching two men in denim hot pants bump n grind around Margaret Thatcher. In slow motion. Fabulous! 5 big, shiny stars.
