Writer: Ben Kavanagh
Director: Gene David Kirk
Conversion therapy – the practice of using various techniques to try and persuade LGBTQ+ people to lead “normal” (i.e., cisgender, heterosexual) lives – is both abhorrent and ineffective. The current government’s stance has been to promise that such practices will be banned, only to backtrack and be shamed into reinstating its support.
But despite the government admitting that such practices are cruel, inhumane and some involve torture, there seems to be little urgency to outlaw such practices – and, criminally, it sees no reason to protect trans people in the same ways that it aims to protect the LGB sections of the queer community. In such a febrile political world, a play examining conversion therapy ought to be essential theatre, especially for an LGBTQ+ producing venue such as Above the Stag.
Ben Kavanagh’s The Convert, originally staged in a shorter version as part of the theatre’s Contact season of new writing in 2021, focuses less on the current political climate than the actions historically inflicted upon queer people – mostly gay men – by organisations (state-sponsored or otherwise) throughout history. It does this within a sci-fi setting, where Nick Mower’s Alix has been imprisoned after his own family reported him to the authorities and whose conversion is being overseen by a sadistic bureaucrat known only as The Arbiter (Kavanagh).
Alix’s first encounters with the arbiter take on a darkly satiric tone, with the detainee only able to continue with the interrogation if he answers questions with the only permissible answer. It’s a grim combination of cookie alert messages that must be accepted to proceed, and the insistence of anti-gay and anti-trans campaigners that their vision of the world is the only one with which they’ll engage.
Writer Kavanagh clearly likes these scenes, and indeed his performance as the Arbiter has an initially intriguing horror in the placid nature of his abhorrence. But the strength of the piece comes in the alternate scenes in which Mower’s Alix retreats to his cell, and gradually forms a friendship with his roommate Marcus (Sam Goodchild), a longer-term resident who, at times, appears closer to breaking and acquiescing to the torture and the beatings.
While the scenes between Alix and the Arbiter explore the nature of the techniques used in attempted conversion therapy, the sci-fi trappings (including some marvellous video projection work by George Reeve) allow us to disassociate ourselves from the realities of such abuse. In contrast, the complex, ever-changing interactions between Alix and Marcus hit far closer to home; these are emotional portrayals that offer a gut punch to the here and now.
A drawback to Kavanagh’s scripting of those scenes is that, while Alix’s emotional path through the play is contiguous, if a little bumpy, Marcus’s characterisation jumps around to whatever state of mind would create the most dramatic scene. And while Kavanagh’s tale later suggests a reason for why that might be, one feels that there’s the use of some SF hand-waving to disguise script areas that could be tighter and more cohesive.
Throughout, though, Mower (in his debut professional role) remains a steadfast, believable protagonist. And while the show’s ultimate conclusion moves the whole piece into a different genre altogether in ways that do little to serve the piece’s underlying moral tale, it does at least give this intriguing young actor a chance to showcase his talent.
For a genre which is well served in literature, on television and in film, there is not enough science fiction delivered on stage. That The Convert tries at all is laudable. Ultimately, though, SF is a genre that needs to know how to root itself in the era of its audience, so that they can connect to it and care about the world being crafted on stage.
This is where Kavanagh’s play, however thoughtful and impassioned, falters. In the process, it squanders an opportunity to connect with the dilemmas facing LGTBQ+ people in today’s world, especially those beyond the gay men his work is focused upon. But it is his first play, and the ambition of his storytelling suggests that there will be more to come.
Runs until 3 July 2022
