Seeing it for a second time brings its own special pleasures. The seeds that are subtly hidden in plain sight to bear the fruit of later plotlines become apparent, increasing the tragic weight of the story, as does the advance knowledge of the timeline. The arc of Jonathan Broadbent's Guy develops a particularly deep resonance as his flat forms the location for the show's three acts - the backdrop for friends old and new working their way through what life has to throw at them.
And what remains so powerful about the play is how Robert Hastie's production teases out the universality of its themes. It may be a gay 80s play, with all the baggage that comes with that, but its really about the fears we all have no matter who we sleep with. The fear that the right person to love might never come along, the worries about keeping a long-term relationship intact and enticing, the scariness of not really knowing what to do with your life.
The original cast remain blissfully perfect in their roles - Geoffrey Streatfeild's increasingly haunted Daniel is almost unbearably moving as grief takes over, Julian Ovenden's ennui so skilfully essayed under his hedonistic exterior, Richard Cant and an excellent Matt Bardock so vivid even as they appear so (relatively) briefly), and Lewis Reeves - he who had to turn the other (bum) cheek - an eloquent, understated beacon of hope for the future. Hugely recommended.
