A refreshingly emotive, Queer fusion of musical and documentary – deliciously camp and absolutely unmissable
The appeal of Breach Theatre’s After the Act (A Section 28 Musical), especially to the Queer community, is clear. Through the use of the voices of those who lived through this pivotal part of UK legislative history, it tells the story of Section 28, from its conception to its repeal, and the legacy that it has left us with. Against an ever-changing projection of relevant images and information, emotive personal accounts of self discovery, discrimination, and revolutionary acts are brought to life in a delightfully camp, powerfully evocative manner.
Section 28 prevented the ‘promotion of homosexuality’ in the UK from 1988-2003 (2000 in Scotland), coinciding with the height of the AIDS epidemic – a point in time where the demonisation of non-heteronormative lifestyles was rampant and comprehensive sexual education was very much needed so, understandably, feelings of isolation, fear, and hopelessness are prevalent throughout the show. But they are not overpowering; this isn’t an entirely sombre affair. There is a very relatable, undeniably British, quintessentially gay humour weaved throughout – the sort of optimism that becomes vital to so many marginalised groups in times of adversity. There is a determination to it, as well; knowing that the stories come from real people, are real experiences, and that these fellow human beings have been able to find moments of silliness and joy amongst the institutionalised trauma they experienced, brings a measure of much needed comfort; writers Billy Barrett, who also directs the show, and Ellice Stevens, who performs in it, have captured something integral to the Queer experience that is hard to define. Perhaps it’s the subversive irony, or the effervescent campness that emanates throughout – whatever it is, it hits the mark.
The music, composed and orchestrated by Frew, is great. It’s not world changing, and you could be forgiven for thinking that the tracks are a little bit same-y, but they are incredibly well put together. Vocal harmonies and counter melodies are abundant, and – notably – the cast’s voices compliment each other gorgeously. Throughout the performances were solid, characters were well defined, dialogue was delivered with a sincerity that felt more like a conversation than theatrics. There is a incredible, jovial irony to Sung-Im Her’s choreography that, alone, makes After the Act worth the ticket price; occasionally sexy, often silly, but consistently well thought out. On top of all of this, the four performers (Ericka Posadas, Nkara Stephenson, Ellice Stevens, and Zachary Willis) play a host of roles, from school children to politicians, entirely successfully. Willis, in particular, was a stand out; there was a sensitivity, an incredible attention to detail, and an innate understanding to every aspect of his performance; from adorable Danish schoolgirl, to angry Scottish father, to the lovely, darling, tragic, camp Ian – his execution of the script was immense from start to finish.
The show culminates in a reminder that, in light of the discourse surrounding trans people – trans youth in particular – discussion of Section 28 is as relevant now as it was in the 80s. For those of us who are intimately familiar with these issues, who are cognisant of the historical landscape surrounding LGBTQ+ legislation in the UK, the parallels are already very clear – but there are people, both within and outside of this community, who are not aware of how similar the rhetoric being used is. After the Act (A Section 28 Musical) is as much an educational tool as it is an enjoyable piece of theatre. There are so many reasons to go and see this show; it is laugh-out-loud funny, heart-wrenchingly poignant, masterfully crafted, and performed with joy, respect, and a clear devotion.










