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An intense and powerful exploration of Nazism, skinheads, 1970s punk and men who meet other men in public toilets, which raises difficult questions about the allure of the far-right and whether we can empathise with a Nazi.Summary
Rating
Excellent
Finborough Theatre, hidden above a closed (temporarily for refurbishment) pub, is an appropriate setting for a play about illicit meetings. It gives the impression that we have left ordinary London behind and dived into a hidden world. A similarly secret world, of men who meet and have sex in public toilets, is the setting for Harry McDonald’s Foam, which follows Nick (Jake Richards), a skinhead in the 1970s, leading a double life as both a Nazi and a closeted gay man.
From the opening moments, when Nick meets the mysterious Mosley (Matthew Baldwin), the tension is high. Social transgressions are occurring; political and sexual boundaries are being crossed. Each of Foam’s five scenes raises this tension until it reaches nail-biting intensity.
This tension is complicated as the audience is presented with a dilemma: do we empathise with a Nazi? We might feel sympathy for Nick, hiding his sexuality in a world still hostile to LGBTQ+ people, but his violent racism is repellent. The tension in the early scenes comes from our sympathies being played with. Is Nick a lost youth, or a punk provocateur? Later, we see Nick’s violence and racism, which causes unpleasant feelings as any sympathy is replaced by fear.
Despite our fear we are taken on a journey where it’s difficult not to empathise with Nick. His humanity comes from an outstanding performance from Richards, who is electric in every scene. We are unable to look away as he toys with the men he meets, capable of affection or violence at any moment.
Richards’s performance makes the conflict at the heart of Nick tangible, whilst also bringing his two halves together into a convincing whole. Nick is not afraid of transgressions; he does what he likes and will not be shamed by anyone.
The minimal staging (Nitin Parmar) and costuming (Pam Tait) are very effective. The punk aesthetic provides the cultural backdrop of the era. Key plot moments revolve around a pair of red Doc Martens. A character wearing a Take That t-shirt is a subtle nod to the passing of time between scenes.
The political message of the show is subtly woven in. There is more to Foam than putting a Nazi on stage and asking whether we can or should emphasise with him. The first two scenes show people being seduced by Nazis; first Nick by Mosley, and then Gabriel (Kishore Walker), a gay photographer, by Nick. At first Gabriel thinks Nick’s Nazism is an act and is fascinated by this performance. Then he is seduced by Nick’s raw power.
Later we see the consequence of Nick’s violence in an incredibly tense confrontation with Birdy (Keanu Adolphus Johnson), a gay Black man. This starkly reveals that Nick’s persona is not just a shocking punk spectacle, but that he harbours genuine hatred for people of colour.
Many of these encounters work as metaphors. Nick meeting Mosley represents the process of radicalisation. Other scenes, where Nick meets gay characters or people of colour, represent the violence white straight culture directed at others in the 1970s.
The final scene of Nick on an AIDS ward provides powerful pathos. Richards delivers a heartbreaking performance, showing a changed and broken man. I could not help but be moved by his suffering.
Foam is moving, powerful and intense. It is more than the story of a gay man who is also a Nazi. Foam shows how seductive the strength of the far-right is, especially to the marginalised. This is a powerful message for an age when Nazis have come out of the hidden places and into the mainstream.
Directed by Matthew Iliffe
Written by Harry McDonald
Produced by: Croft & Dye Productions and Salt Lick Productions
Foam plays at Finborough Theatre until 13 April. Further information and bookings can be found here.
