The Pride, by Alexi Kaye Campbell, performed at Trafalgar Studios

‘Somewhere inside me a kind of betrayal. There’s an expected behaviour. People telling you who you are. And you believe them. And then, of course, you become that very person’

At its 2008 premier in the Royal Court The Pride, quite rightly, received a stream of awards, namely the Olivier Award and the Critic’s Circle Award for Most Promising Playwright, firmly placing itself ‘on-the-map’ of contemporary gay theatre. As part of the Trafalgar Transformed season, the play’s original director Jamie Lloyd spectacularly revives The Pride in all its initial glory.  

Following the three same characters in two time frames, 1958 and 2008, The Pride is a social introspection into sexual identity. In 2008, Oliver is a promiscuous freelance writer, addicted to anonymous sexual encounters and struggling to commit to ex-boyfriend Philip. Guided by close friend Sylvia, we see him try to understand his sexual desires. Rewinding 50 years, the 1958 Philip is married to Sylvia, but reluctantly recognizing a deeper longing for Sylvia’s boss, Oliver.

In the plays' opening a familiar and somewhat formulaic 1950s scene greets us: the doting husband, the dutiful wife and dinner guest full of anecdotes. Quickly, this scene is destabilized by a tentative recognition between husband, Philip (Harry Hayden- Paton) and dinner guest, Oliver (Al Weaver), acknowledging a sexual tension. It is at this point that the play fasts forwards half a century to the juxtaposed sexual encounter between 2008 Oliver and a gigolo dressed in full Nazi soldier gear. Once Oliver’s role-playing fantasy is satisfied the pair engage in an awkward exchange of one-liners, in which Matthew Horne is brilliant at playing the hilarious prostitute who also ‘helps out at a florist twice a week’. What becomes clear in this skip between the dinner party and sadomasochistic fantasy is that repression and liberation, both sexual and psychological, are at the forefront of the plays' interests.

The challenge of expressing these issues sensitively in a form where we are constantly rewinding and fast-forwarding is achieved by the superiority of acting. Lloyd’s focus is evidently not on what furniture or lighting will best portray the appropriate time frame, but the art of the actors to step in and out of 1950s politeness and 2008s’ profligacy. The outfit changes are subtle – at its most effective Weaver alternates between his two characters by simply putting on and taking off a trench coat – and we distinguish between year largely by the change in accent and mannerism.

This attention to detail means we do not sit deciphering the year but are led down an emotional and provocative pathway deliberating sexuality, social attitudes and acceptance. Most poignantly Campbell leads us to question whether Philip's distress in coming to terms with his homosexuality in1958 is equal to 2008 Oliver's anguish in believing he has an uncontrollable duality leading him to have sex with total strangers. Uncomfortably, we are made to face the difficult suggestion that perhaps society has not come as far as we thought.

Sylvia’s progression over the fifty year period is more rewarding, from wannabe actor in 1958 whose husband ‘did not think it was a good idea’ to a bubbly independent actor in 2008. There is also a warming liberation in her love for Philip and Oliver, and Hayley Atwell is flawless in her portrayal of a wife dealing with her closeted husband’s adultery and then best friend in 2008 supporting Oliver despite his wrongdoings.  

An examination of identity and social labels is the beating pulse of this play, a feeling spectacularly reinstated by the backdrop of the stage: a polished wall that is both transparent in moments of deep contemplation, and a mirror in times of uncertainty. This not only allows the audience a varied view of the stage, but most importantly enforces the insecurity of having to decide on an identity, and the struggle of adopting one simply because people are ‘telling you who you are’.

In his note on the text, Campbell was precise on instructing that  ‘the two different period should melt into each other’. It is this ‘melting’ which the Lloyd’s revival does most successfully. The flow between time frames is never mechanic but instead creates a pace appropriate to tackle the difficult issues The Pride raises. It is precisely this concoction of ‘melting’ and sensitivity that make this production an important and, although at times difficult and distressing, a nonetheless unmissable experience.