In this meta-theatrical satire, an ensemble of queer, trans, and nonbinary performers reckon with how the forces of power, privilege, and colonization play upon their lives as the playwright offers a central provocation: what if queer people dared to imagine a future monarch having a life that resembled their own?
Contrasting joy, love, and freedom of expression with anger, resentment, and loss, Prince Faggot fully encompasses the queer experience. It forces an audience to consider not only the enjoyable parts but likewise the parts hidden from oneself and/or others. Laced throughout Crow’s monologue is a mixture of kindness and fury that offers a profound truthfulness. “You will never know that wound,” she says. “You may think you know, but you will never know. And I resent that you’ll never know. But I guess I’m also thankful that you’ll never know.”
The play comes most alive in action. Shayok Misha Chowdhury, glasslike and precise in his work in Public Obscenities, directs Tannahill’s drama like it takes place in the murky dark room of a club. He’s guided McCrea and Kumar into a gently knowing intimacy, both in unspoken communications they make with each other under George’s parents’ scrutiny and in their richly expressive sex scenes. The audience’s phones are placed in Yondr pouches for good reason.
| 2025 | Off-Broadway |
Off-Broadway |
| 2025 | Off-Broadway |
Off-Broadway |
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