‘Religion, shame, some motherf*****s and what I did to them’ – strap in for the ride of your life in irresistible Willy Hudson’s Sci Fi extravaganza
(tw: homophobia)
Soho Theatre’s makeover in miscellaneous tin foil-wrapped objects, a my little pony cooler bag and multiple static-strewn tv screens jumbled on top of each other signal the onset of a rip-roaring voyage to outer space, and back again. Welcome Home is described as a ‘dark nightmare revenge’ by its writer, star performer, and ‘best boy’ among other credits (as declared by a hilariously narcissistic, space-opera style opening sequence), but in fact you’re in for a surprisingly uplifting show, and a fabulous night out at that.
Welcome Home’s semi-autobiographical action charts Hudson’s relationship with his sexuality in the context of growing up in the Church, amid the devastating homophobic ideology that taught him his queer identity was sinful. A recollection of his love for watching Dr Who, and a refrain he’d say with his dad before the weekly programme started – ‘let’s get them baddies!’ – leads him to do just that, returning to the source of his trauma in the form of the Church’s elders, seeking answers and vengeance. Hudson realises a deeply satisfying, heroic sci-fi revenge fantasy on these pillars of the community who have become weeping angels, in a brilliant bit of ‘Jesus is always watching – so don’t blink’ kind of reasoning. Of course, things aren’t so simple in real life. ‘I’ve just tried to tear down all of Christianity’, he sighs, after a distressing reenactment of the gaslighting he was subjected to by the Church’s leader upon confrontation. It is safe to say he emerges victorious, however, as is confirmed by the production’s standing ovation.
Hudson’s audience is here for a good time, and wonderfully receptive to his particular brand of showmanship. He is endlessly charismatic in all his cyberpunk-clad glory; it’s certainly the first occasion I’ve witnessed an actor convince a member of the front row to lend a sock after a segment on Robbie Williams and masturbation (the sock becomes a karaoke-warbling puppet, they’ll have been relieved to discover), before leading the entire auditorium in an enthusiastic rendition of Angels. I was a big fan of his own tongue-in-cheek opening number, This Wasn’t In Your Star Sign, written in response to a break up (‘You said you were a pisces/ I’m tired of all your lies-ies).
The Sci-Fi genre provides a welcome home for Hudson’s exploration of feelings of alienation and otherness, his overthrowing of monsters, and embracing of his identity. At once vulnerable and tender, riotously funny and empowering, this production is a must-see.