Before there was “wokeness,” there was “solidarity”: the idea of sticking with groups you weren’t a member of because you recognized a common enemy—or even simply because you considered them worthy of respect and dignity. This idea is what prompted Mark Ashton, an Irish communist gay activist, to raise money in the 1984 Pride march to support striking miners, on the grounds that Margaret Thatcher and the tabloids hated them as much as the LGBT+ community. The true story of the subsequent unlikely alliance between Ashton’s Lesbian and Gay Support Miners (LGSM) and a small mining village in Wales was told in the critically acclaimed 2014 film. Pridewritten by Stephen Beresford and directed by Mark Warchus.
Now Beresford and Warchus have adapted their work as a new National Theater musical. Already sold out before press night, it’s a guaranteed sensation.
Musical adaptations can sometimes fall short, relying too much on the audience knowing the plot and exploiting the emotions from the few songs. Not this one. Pride it’s an emotional roller coaster – complex, poignant, joyous and tragic all at once – that requires no musical or thematic shortcuts.
Christopher Nightingale’s scores vary from rock-opera to Welsh choral to classical show-biz, with some truly dazzling spectacles. “Paint the Revolution Pink”, the soundtrack as the LGSM organize a “Pits and Perverts” fundraising concert for their fellow miners, is an instant hit, as is the cry of the Valley women as they take to the London gay scene, an elderly Welsh grandmother proudly proclaiming “I think I’m made of leather!”. And as far as lyrics go, nothing beats the ballad of one of the younger gay men: “Yeah, I sure save the sermon, I like cock and Ethel Merman.” Even the Welsh peasants have their moment, with a stirring chorus of the labor anthem ‘Bread and Roses’ which had the whole audience in tears.
The performances are perfect. There isn’t a weak link in the entire ensemble, but a special shout-out must go to John Lumsden as the maniacal but tireless Ashton, whose electric charisma is felt from the back row. And if his co-star Samuel Barnett (i The boys of history fame), who plays the grander Jonathan, kind of steals the show, if only because of the amazing dance numbers he manages to pull off.
Except it’s not all sequins, disco and tap shoes. As anyone who remembers the eighties will know, Thatcher won; the miners lost the strike. Homophobia did not disappear overnight, and the gay community was on the brink of disaster as a deadly new virus began to wipe out a generation of young men in their prime. Is a period stage play really going to cover all that up and pretend it has a happy ending?
No. Desperation and a sense of bitter loss is what elevates Pride from a good musical to a great one. There is sadness and despair woven into the message of hope, all the more powerful for the contrast. Does hope triumph in the end? In a way, it depends on whether you’re a miner or gay. In 1985, a Labor resolution committing the party to gay and lesbian rights was passed with the support of none other than the National Union of Mineworkers. Solidarity was not just an ideal. It was a triumph.
All this seems a long way from current politics. The program hosts reflections from a collection of politicians – including Chris Bryant, who won the Rhondda seat in 2001 despite doubts an openly gay man could ever win over the Valleys, and Siân James, the former MP for Swansea East who finds herself depicted in the musical. Most are warm odes to progress. But Lynne Featherstone, the Liberal Democrat politician who championed same-sex marriage through parliament in 2014, is more uncertain. “The atmosphere has changed”, she writes. “I don’t think it would be possible today.” The narrative now is that left-behind communities, like the miners of Wales, have no time or interest in progressive ambitions like LGBT rights. The left has been accused of being distracted from its core base of working families, lured astray by clueless metropolitan liberals pursuing causes that real people don’t care about.
Pride it’s not just a history lesson – it’s a reminder that such cynicism is misplaced. The idea that traditional working-class communities are fundamentally opposed to “woke” activists agitating for social change was wrong in 1985, and it’s wrong now. Here’s to you, Mark. You were right.
Pride is at the National Theatre, London SE1 until 12 September
(Further reading: Sandra Oh will be canceled on The Misanthrope)
