Review: THE MINISTRY OF LESBIAN AFFAIRS, Soho Theatre

When I arrive to pick up my ticket and rainbow-ribbon-wrapped script on Thursday evening, Soho Theatre is overflowing with lesbians. In dungarees, in dresses, in jeans, in couples, in groups of friends, by themselves.

Playwright Iman Qureshi said she wanted to make the show "a lesbian mecca", and she has done exactly that. As her play The Ministry of Lesbian Affairs unfolds, the theatre echoes with raucous laughter, murmurs of agreement, and gasps of outrage. The show is a true celebration of lesbian identity - immensely necessary but also, immensely fun.

The Ministry of Lesbian Affairs is Qureshi's second major play; she previously won the 2018 Papatango prize for her breakout play The Funeral Director. A co-commission from Soho Theatre and Damsel Productions, this is the first production of the piece.

The premise is simple: every Saturday afternoon, a group of women meet in a run-down community centre to sing. They are the only lesbian choir in the country. There's Connie (Shuna Snow), the straight-laced (well...) conductor, who is forever trying to convince the group to like Gershwin. There's regular Ellie (Fanta Barrie), quick-witted, dirty-mouthed, and forever on her phone. There's Brig (Mariah Louca), a calm transgender lawyer, and Fi (Kiruna Stamell), a blunt disabled woman going through a divorce.

At the start of the play, they are joined by Lori (Kibong Tanji), a butch broadband engineer, and her girlfriend Ana (Claudia Jolly), an academic specialising in postcolonial literature, as well as Dina (Lara Sawalha), a closeted housewife who immigrated from Qatar. A motley crew, they nonetheless find themselves with a lot in common, sharing jokes about Hayley Kiyoko, seitan steaks, and IKEA. When the choir are given the opportunity to sing at Pride, however, the stakes are raised and a severely misjudged wardrobe choice threatens to tear the group apart.

Qureshi's writing is almost faultless, quickly dancing between joyous humour and painful scenes of fear and conflict. Her every word is felt viscerally by the whole audience: in one scene where the women are interrupted by a drunk homophobe at the pub, the previously buzzing crowd falls into a hush of fear. Similarly, as Connie finally explains the reason she started the choir at the end of the play, the sniffles and stifled sobs are audible.

Qureshi handles topics like transphobia and immigration with care, without ever becoming preachy. Perhaps the only minor issues would be that the play takes a little while to really get going, and that there may be one too many jokes about veganism (as much as they always get a laugh).

The characterisation is excellent, from both writer, director, and cast. Qureshi consistently manages to comically illustrate lesbian stereotypes without it ever becoming cruel in tone, and she successfully shows the diversity of this community without any of the representation feeling forced or misjudged. Fi's disability and Brig's gender identity play important roles in the plot of the show without by any means being those characters' sole traits. Even characters who initially feel a little one-note, like Ellie and Connie, are given increasing depth and individuality as the play progresses. We grow to love each and every one of these women, and to know them like close friends.

It's difficult to pick out any one stand-out performance. Barrie brings a fizz of energy to every scene, while Louca delivers tough lines with poise and Tanji takes the lead on much of both the plot and the music. It's a true ensemble show, and every performer brings their A-game. Director Hannah Hauer-King deftly brings cast and script together, handling the play's ups and downs with a virtuosic flair.

The Ministry of Lesbian Affairs is billed as a "musical comedy", and it truly wouldn't be what it is without the singing. Qureshi knows exactly when it is needed; when the emotions spill over and need a new form. The group numbers, especially those at the end of each act, are truly spellbinding, while the rehearsals and performances throughout are consistently fun and unpredictable - who would have thought we would be seeing a mash-up of King Princess and "O Fortuna" on a London stage? This is a perfect example of the play-with-music done right.

Designer Anna Reid's work brings personality and detail. She recreates the kind of crumbling village hall we're all familiar with, down to the multicolour carpet and mismatched mug collection. The set reveal that takes place near the beginning of the play, while fairly mundane, draws quiet gasps and murmurs of approval, while transitions to other locations such as a kitchen and pub are pulled off with ease. A visually excellent moment also comes at the end of the play, when the yellow lights are replaced with candles for one last musical number.

Speaking to the Guardian, Qureshi explained that the impetus for writing this play came from seeing the reaction gay men had to plays like The Inheritance and Angels in America and wanting the same for women. While representation for queer women is on the up - Soho Theatre was also recently home to Juniper and Jules, and lesbian musical But I'm A Cheerleader just closed at the Turbine Theatre - it's impossible to deny that the focus still lies on gay men. This play is unapologetically lesbian. While handling issues such as that of TERFism in the lesbian community head-on, its focus lies on community and family, and this can be felt both onstage and off.

Towards the end of the play, the character Fi gives a powerful speech about lesbian invisibility. "The pink pound is for the gays,", she begins, "sex is for the gays, fashion is for the gays, community is for the gays." With The Ministry of Lesbian Affairs, maybe we can finally say that theatre is for the lesbians.

The Ministry of Lesbian Affairs runs at Soho Theatre until 11 June.

Photo Credit: Helen Murray

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