Review: Don't Be A Stranger, A sombre story of the realities of rural queerhood

Don’t Be A Stranger at the Lantern Theatre in Brighton is the debut production of emerging theatre company When Sharks Fly led by creatives Charlie Douglas and Jay Langley. A melancholy and sombre drama, exploring the realities of queerhood in rural Cornwall, the play resides it's narrative within a dreary country pub in a quiet village somewhere in rural Cornwall. The production unfolds across an hour the difficult life and tragic death of a young queer man called Tom. Beset from the beginning with a serious and critical lens of the mood of rural communities towards members of the LGBTQIA+

community, the production engages the lived experiences of it’s cast and creators to unveil the

often-blurry lines between acceptance and tolerance of queerhood in public and private spaces.

Don't Be A Stranger (When Sharks Fly, 2024) - Poster Design by rustyart (@r.ustyart on instagram)

From its centring of location on a “rough around the edges” country pub during the wake of Tom, a

young gay man who committed suicide, the performance space feels alienating and puts audiences

on edge, acknowledging from the performance’s foundations the fact that public spaces like pubs

can often be uncomfortable for queer people. This tension undertones the whole performance as

family of Tom, those who claimed to have loved him most, with the notable exception of a Father

who, in my reading of the play, cannot even bare to attend his queer son’s funeral, shuffle

awkwardly around acknowledging his queerness, whilst being confronted with it undeniably by the

friends and companions who embraced his true identity. The tug of war between those two

positions of truth is what breaths out the agony of the narrative, as conflict rises between how

people want to remember Tom and how he truly was, confronting the multiple masks which young

queer people build in order to protect themselves.

It is in companions, such as Bry and Ash, that rural queerness is perhaps expressed most tactfully, as

they engage in a will-they-won’t-they yearning that brings the only other known queer people in the

community back together to celebrate and mourn Tom in a way that only they can. The two huddle

in the corner, attempting to be out-of-sight in an enactment of memories, joy and pain that hurts to watch but feels all too familiar, as they recount the moments of the truth and life which Tom had been able to relish in, in the glinting moments of acceptance, queer joy and young love. The story is tragic and painful, confronting the reality of a life lived in secret, but ultimately attempts to do justice to the memory of Tom as an immortalization of all the lives lived in secret.

Don’t Be A Stranger bares out the damage of isolation and avoidance towards the young queer

identity, expressing out the shame and bringing truth and complexity to the reality of rural queer

experiences. However, the narrative still finds room for a greater optimism, the quietly expressed

and silently given support of members of a community still dogged by history and tension, as the

character of Jango and Sonny quietly acknowledge and express their long held support of Tom. Their

embrace of Tom’s queerhood, albeit too late and in vain, goes towards dispelling the myth that can

sometimes persist of the countryside being an unsafe space for queerhood, and although it came

too late for Tom, and Ash who must now relive it, those who loved Tom come to reveal a deep held

acceptance and respect for him, an acknowledgement that attitudes can and will change.

Don’t Be A Stranger is a painful but enthralling performance of young queerhood, the efforts to

which friends will and must go to in order to protect the memory of their friends, and a targeted

thousand yard stare into the faces of those who still cannot accept their queer children. It is

beautiful, it is warm, it is heart breaking.