The tone of Rob Madge’s autobiographical play My Son’s a Queer, (But what can you do?) is not so much resigned as celebratory. This is contrary to the template for coming-of-age plays which dictates the protagonist should endure parental and societal rejection before reaching the point where they are able to determine and announce their true sexual identity.
The show is, therefore, a tribute to Madge’s extraordinarily broad-minded family, in particular their father who, without making a physical appearance, steals the show with heartfelt practical advice to prospective parents which Madge acknowledges sums up in one line what they had been trying to communicate with the entire play. The only instance of Madge senior attempting heteronormative stereotyping is to buy a ‘Beast’ costume for their child, who would have preferred to be ‘Belle’, the damsel in distress.
My Son’s a Queer, (But what can you do?) is structured around home recordings of the author’s childhood single-minded efforts to stage Walt Disney musicals in their home. Accordingly, director Luke Sheppard sets a warm, nostalgic tone. Ryan Dawson Laight’s set is a wonderful conjuration of times gone by: a backdrop of a TV testcard with a suburban living room (all easy chairs, sideboards and especially family photographs) in the foreground and upbeat show tunes playing as the audience is seated. Family home recordings play on the backscreen to devastating effect, particularly the young Madge demanding constant attention from the camera. Once a Diva…
Rob Madge is an only child, and it is hard to avoid the conclusion had there been siblings their whims might not have been indulged to such an extent. You can’t help but feel there is a thin line between the parental support which produces a performance artist or a narcissistic monster like Boris Johnson or Donald Trump. It is hard not to sense a degree of over-protection; Madge acknowledges their mother’s response to reports of bullying at school was to secure a job as dinner lady so she could safeguard her child. If my mother taken such action, I’d have shot myself to avoid further ridicule.
As might be expected from an author obsessed with musical theatre, My Son’s a Queer, (But what can you do?) is a play with songs, Pippa Cleary’s music adding a more rueful, reflective mood to the overall positive vibe of the evening.
Despite the serious message of affirmation conveyed by the show, Rob Madge presents with tongue in cheek, always willing to acknowledge the excessive demands made of their family: bank holidays being reserved in diaries for rehearsals or technical preparations for performances rather than board games or watching TV. Madge mocks their childish egotism with home movies showing them sulking when not in the spotlight. There remains an underlying tone of sadness, a regret that Madge’s experience is exceptional while other children may have been less fortunate.
In grand showbiz tradition, Madge concludes with a showstopper made all the more appealing by its unique homemade quality. In childhood, a tyrannical Madge insisted on staging homegrown versions of Disney musicals for their family and so returns to the stage for an encore in a series of do-it-yourself costumes which bring the house down.
Carefully avoiding self-pity, My Son’s a Queer, (But what can you do?) tiptoes through an emotional minefield to become an inspirational tribute to the power of positive parenting told in a refreshing manner.