Robert O’Hara is a tease. In this exhilarating tragicomedy, the writer is always several fleet-footed steps ahead. A nervous delight results from his total control of the stage, as he lets us flounder in entertained bafflement before gradually handing us subtle, playful reveals. First staged in New York in 2014, Bootycandy is the kind of play you cannot imagine working as any other art form. Alive and lively, it is deliciously unpredictable.
In-the-round at the recently relocated Gate theatre, O’Hara (who directed Jeremy O Harris’s scalding production, Slave Play in New York) feeds us a collection of fragmented scenes that rocket in wildly different directions, all looping around violence and desire. At the centre is Sutter, played by Prince Kundai, who is luminous as the character grows from an overexcited child to a hurt and hardened adult, his eyes fixed firmly on revenge.
Each segment is a puzzle piece scattered across the stage: scenes from Sutter’s life and others that extend beyond his but grapple with similar themes. They deal with fantastical experiences of queerness, Blackness, power, longing, cruelty and resistance. Uproarious and anarchic, individually they hold their own. Put together, they are radiant.
In this thrilling UK debut, the action is dynamised by Tristan Fynn-Aiduenu’s inventive, nimble direction. No moment is wasted, no energy dropped. Every movement is a dance, from Bimpé Pacheco’s absurdist performance of a woman on the phone to Luke Wilson’s exquisite, gold-heeled preacher. Kundai moves with grace and joy in his bones as he moonwalks dressed as Michael Jackson, his body loose and free without the understanding of what the figure signifies.
Only as the scenes pile up do we see the sinister threads that keep these characters tied together. A wickedness seeps into innocence. Boundless imagination builds into twisted fantasy. The play delights in not fitting into a recognisable structure, and we are met with constant surprises as each storyline is extended beyond its logical conclusion, heightened and violated, while Sutter tries desperately to control the spiralling narrative.
The Gate is one of many theatres to be losing all of its Arts Council funding later this year. This production stands as testament to what we could lose due to this ill-made decision: beautiful, fearless art.
• At Gate theatre, London, until 11 March.
