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?
In the end, Tannahill is less concerned with gossip about a gay royal than in the isolation that any LGBTQ+ person faces in carving a space for themselves after growing up in the constraining embrace of a straight (and straitlaced) family. While Prince Faggot spends most of its time as a kind of speculative work of royal fan fiction, Tannahill cunningly gives the last word to Stewart — who shares a version of her personal story while questioning the very foundations of the drama in which she’s featured. Why should we care about some far-off prince and his supposedly divine claim to the throne? Isn’t the fundamental truth of queer lives the ability to shed the costumes that our parents have given us, and sometimes even the bodies, and to forge a life for ourselves that reflects our true identities?
Prince Faggot, from its title on down, seems designed to attract the same sort of Daily Mail headlines that plague its characters: “Softcore Off-Broadway Play Sexualizes Royal Minor” and so forth. The play’s provocations may attract audiences—the run is mostly sold-out, presumably on the basis of its title alone (marketing doesn’t disclose the subject matter)—and they’ll be rewarded by Tannahill’s subverted expectations when they attend.
| 2025 | Off-Broadway |
Off-Broadway |
| 2025 | Off-Broadway |
Off-Broadway |
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