Writer: Rob Madge
Songs: Pippa Cleary
Director: Luke Sheppard
It’s Rob Madge’s dad we have to thank. For lots of things (along with their mum and grandparents), but mainly for having his video camera out on every occasion.
During lockdown, Madge shared some of the recordings of them as a precocious, musical-obsessed youngster – they would organise entire Disneyland parades through the family home, playing the lead character themselves, roping in Dad to play Bert to their Mary Poppins, and getting amusingly stroppy when family members didn’t live up to their impossibly high standards.
The show that has been born out of those memories started at the Turbine Theatre, before running in Edinburgh and at the Garrick. It now returns at the newly-refurbished Ambassadors Theatre, and its message of queer joy remains undimmed.
The video clips, projected behind Madge as they introduce and comment on the action, show that young Rob was what might gently have been described as A Handful. Once they realised that Dad’s video camera could record their exploits, the cries of “are you filming?” came thick and fast (at one point, the montage of clips includes Rob’s dad admitting that he’s lying that the camera is on, so that he gets a chance to film something other than Rob).
But along with young Rob’s dominance comes floods of support from their family. Even when Rob’s Dad tries to channel his child’s affection for Disney in a gendered direction – young Rob wanted Belle’s yellow ballgown from Beauty and the Beast, but Rob’s father saved up and bought them an expensive Beast costume instead – the parents’ support for their precocious creativity is unwavering. And a handmade Christmas gift from their grandparents, who seem to have spent most of the year creating it, is as pure an expression of familial love as it is possible to see.
This trip down memory lane is enhanced by songs by Pippa Cleary (The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole Aged 13¾, The Great British Bake Off) that, befitting young Rob’s Disney obsession, fit with the Ashman and Menken style of the era. They’re beautifully expressive, too – particularly with respect to Rob’s rejection of “boy’s” and “girl’s” costumes (“Why does it have to be a choice of two?”)
The evening is tremendously joyful, although there are hints of some troubled times. Rob enrolled at a Stagecoach Saturday school, but while they should have flourished there, they lacked confidence due to the bullying they were experiencing elsewhere. Particularly cutting is a teacher who tells Rob’s mother that her child’s artistic imagination gets in the way of their making friends. Be like the boys, the implication goes, or you’ll be miserable.
But the reverse is true. Madge makes the entire audience feel part of the same friend group, proving that queer shame has nothing on the power of unadulterated queer joy. By the end of the magical show, one feels emotionally lifted in ways that theatre often struggles to accomplish.
For those whose queer identity began to emerge at a young age, there may well be tears of recognition and solidarity too. But as Rob’s parents Jon and Jan demonstrate, the absolute best thing you can do for your children is do anything to make them happy. Your child’s a queer, so what can you do? Celebrate their gifts as loudly and as often as you can.
Continues until 18 March 2023
The Reviews Hub Score
Queer joy
