An unlikely alliance between striking South Welsh miners and a lesbian and gay activist group takes centre stage in this perfect new British musical, which roars to poignant success.
Pride is not just a new British musical; it is the new British musical which sets the standard for works to come. A deft balance of humour and heart, the production is an empowering reminder of the systemic mistreatment of the British working class and LGBT+ communities, proudly standing firm in the face of tireless and timeless adversity.
Written by Stephen Beresford, Pride throws us into the mid-eighties, where Margaret Thatcher’s savaging of the miners is making the headlines, tearing small mining communities apart. The production is relentlessly 80s in feeling and in fury, starting from prior to the piece opening, where projections of TV hits like ‘Are You Being Served’ and icons like Terry Wogan are contrasted by scenes of protest, all underscored by a brilliant soundtrack of the decade’s hits.
Down south, in the capital, under the leadership of defiant Mark Ashton (a superb Jhon Lumsden), a small group of friends form the ‘Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners’ group, in an effort to raise funds and protest alongside their marginalised miner peers. What follows is a true story, initially brought to the big screen and Cardiff before the National’s intimate Dorfman space, marking this unlikely bond and the painful prejudices of four decades ago, still pertinent today.
Under Matthew Warchus’s direction, the entire cast thrives in bringing Beresford’s book to life. Lumsden exudes a bravado befitting of a leader, while Matthew Durkan’s understated Mike follows slightly behind, keeping a record of the remarkable events which ultimately lead to this story being staged.
While the production largely focuses on the group and its efforts with the miners, there are also two significant subplots woven effectively into the narrative without it feeling bloated. Flamboyant Jonathan (Samuel Barnett) is proudly assured, though this teeters when the production bravely tackles the AIDS crisis, while his partner Gethin (Chris Jenkins) reconciles with estrangement from his family. Lewis Cornay’s youthful Bromley spends much of the musical on the path of self-discovery about his sexuality, though this is complicated by a severe yet slightly underdeveloped bigotry from his parents.
Meanwhile, Courtney Stapleton thrives as Steph, the group’s only lesbian yet who fills the room with an energy and fire that ironically, and with good humour, often emasculates her gay peers.
While the production does not shy away from the bigotry and prejudices felt, largely funnelled through anonymous insults, media hounding and an intolerant Maureen (Caroline Sheen), it chooses to better focus on the bond and unity between the two groups, with the closing moments of Act One a tremendously emotional moment of unification.
Despite its seriousness, handled with great care, the production is also fantastically funny. Laced with relentless gags, the book shines in balancing the musical’s core message of acceptance without overplaying its hand. One number, where the Welsh housewives tour Soho’s gay clubs, delights, while the bringing of disco to the Welsh valleys is great fun. Indeed, Pride boasts an exceptional collection of songs, all of which build upon each other nicely and move the production at a good pace, never lingering on a moment for more than needed.
Although set in the 80s, designed beautifully by Bunny Christie, Pride is incredibly timely. Not just for performing during Pride itself, but for pushing an urgent message about community and unity at a time when the world feels so divisive. Both halves end with moments of hope tinged with sadness, dramatic irony nodding to the outcomes for both groups, but it is hard not to be totally swept up by the sense of spirit and camaraderie staged here.
This is what all musical theatre should be.
