Review: Summer in London (Theatre Royal Stratford East)

Rikki Beadle-Blair‘s play makes history by having an all-trans cast. It also makes no explicit mention of that fact. Nonetheless, gender identities are certainly acknowledged and scrutinised: one whole plot strand is about a woman who teaches certain kinds of women – the "uncertain kind" – how to find their confidence; there’s a lot of chat about what it even means to be a man or a woman, a boy or a girl (not all of it swerving cliché). And even if the t word is never mentioned, the play exhibits more intersectionality than a spaghetti junction, featuring lesbian, gay and straight romances with a notably diverse cast. Oh, and all the characters are homeless.

Although it really is hugely positive to see such stories onstage, and in a feel-good show, there are times where Beadle-Blair (also directing) strains too hard for a sunny rom-com. There’s a lot of hymning to the sky as a roof by bright chirpy young men in jazzy colourful sportswear, as if being homeless was just an extension of romantic free-spiritedness, for instance. And while Summer in London can be refreshing – refusing to make anyone come out, or freak out, over their trans identity; refusing to paint homelessness as a state of utter misery – when it does get angsty, it tends to go from nought to feel-my-pain in a matter of gear-grinding seconds.

Few characters are fleshed out with much backstory, to the extent that some simply don’t feel real at all, while the plot, too, defies belief. Four boys are dossing in the park, where one of their exes is selling sandwiches. A glamorous life-coach arrives with a ditzy, doll-like protégé, fresh off the boat from the Philippines, who needs some nice men to show her round London. All four boys – who pepper their swaggering lads-lads-lads behaviour with moments of emosh insight and, occasionally, touching loyalty – are signed up to the task: she’ll have one date a day with each of them in turn.

This competition feels not only a flimsy premise but a creepy one. And yes, the girl’s name is Summer, like the already feeble title pun of rom-com 500 Days of Summer (amazingly, this Summer has even less personality than that prototype manic pixie dream girl). Meanwhile, Justine the sandwich seller enlists the help of Joan the coach in learning to love her own grungy, stompy version of femininity, more "gangly rhino" than pretty princess. Mzz Kimberley does enjoyably serve it as the diva-ish Joan, while Emma Frankland manages to make the troubled, speechifying Justine more than just a mouthpiece for the struggles of womanhood.

Tom Paris’ set puts a huge inflatable globe centre stage, alternately a romantic big ol’ moon or glowingly warm sun. The giddy summer joy of riding around on swan pedalos or getting drunk in a club are cheerily, cheesily evoked (somewhat undermining the premise of dating-without-dosh, mind – has Beadle-Blair never tried to hire a boat in London or get drinks in a club?)

Both the script and the performances have an innate warmth to them, but both are also often too strenuous; chemistry doesn’t always crackle, dialogue doesn’t always ring true. It feels hot-housed, rather than naturally unfurling. Just being radical in your casting isn’t enough to make a show blossom.

Summer in London runs at Theatre Royal Stratford East until 29 July.