An astonishing but not entirely fanciful cultural link between Afghanistan and New York is discerned in Christopher Shinn's intriguing comedy about Manhattan and a community spirit achieved after 11 September.
Stephen, the left-wing, gay hero, claims Afghanistan's disconnected tribes, remote from central government, resemble New York's clutch of diverse, self-contained cultural and racial groupings. Where Do We Live shuttles between two outsider New York communities, the black and the gay, in the weeks before and after the terrorist atrocities of 11 September. Shinn makes fine satirical fun of his pleasure-prone gays; the blacks are less convincingly portrayed as victims of poverty, prejudice and indifferent education.
Shed, an early twenties, black drug- dealer and his uncle, Timothy, live in a lower Manhattan apartment while two gay lovers, writer Stephen, and Tyler, his rich air-head, actor-boyfriend, live across the corridor. Shinn's juxtaposing of a conservative, hedonistic gay society, with a downcast black community gives Where Do We Live its vigour and vitality. But a final
post-11 September scene wallows in sentimentality's unctuous balm and takes some swallowing. Idealistic Stephen, who's willing to help out poor Timothy, accepts the gift of a stolen carton of cigarettes from his drug-dealer neighbour. The implication, quite unjustified by anything we've witnessed, is that the terrorist atrocities have made unemployed Shed neighbourly.
Designer Julian McGowan's stage design emphasises the gulf between the black and gay folk by creating a broad stage, with the audience in the round. At one end is the apartment belonging to Shed and his uncle Timothy, who's lost a leg after a car accident. At the other is the gay lovers' bedroom, while the central playing-area is used for occasional bar and gay disco scenes. This design scheme doesn't work well. There's far too little action stage centre. But in Richard Wilson's vivacious production there's an acute, amusing sense of middle-class, gay New Yorkers living in nervous proximity to blue-collar black neighbours: for example, Stephen making out with Tyler is quite put off his stroke as the homophobic words of an Eminen-like rap song waft into his ears from next door.
Shinn nicely mocks these self-absorbed, mildly affluent gays at their discos and parties. They make free and easy with cocaine, ecstasy and each other. They are variously selfish, right-wing and chorus-boy narcissist. No wonder Evans's cerebral, sexually voracious Stephen is dropped by Adam Garcia's vacuous Tyler. The unelucidated problems of Noel Clarke's often unintelligible Shed (with a smitten girlfriend in attendance) and the bereft, injured Timothy keep being gaily upstaged. Shinn never really explains how the neighbours are brought together after 11 September's debacle.
Where Do We Live
