Review: BORN WITH TEETH, Starring Ncuti Gatwa and Edward Bluemel

“Does my flesh dazzle you?” a lascivious Christopher Marlowe asks a flustered William Shakespeare in what we can only describe as an exceptional example of theatrical slash fiction. For the uninitiated, “slash fiction” is a genre of fanfiction that focuses on the romantic relation between pre-existing fictional characters of the same sex.

Liz Duffy Adams’s Born With Teeth brings the female gaze to the West End. Directed by Daniel Evans and starring Ncuti Gatwa alongside Edward Bluemel, 90 steamy minutes of action puts two most venerated playwrights in England together like we’ve only ever found on websites like AO3 (Archive Of Our Own, the biggest fan-run fanfiction platform) and Tumblr.

The piece introduces a mercurial relationship, built on mutual admiration, envy, and unbarred sexual attraction. It’s a look at what lies beneath the surface of two men who both want to have the last word on their way to immortality. On one side: Kit (Gatwa). Clad in leather and flamboyancy, he is wolfish, taunting, so sure of himself that he sees the world through the inescapable lens of his resolve. On the other: Will (Bluemel). Enthusiastic, bright-eyed, and outright fanboyish, he preaches scholarly seriousness but practices cautious seduction. Where one is loud clamour and bold interest, the other is understated machination and subtle zeal. 

Innuendos and double-entendres immediately settle in as a second language while they start to excavate the nature of poetry and espionage. They orbit each other with crackling charisma in an ambiguous limbo designed by Joanna Scotcher. Three walls of barn-door lights (Neil Austin) suspend the performance. Brief projection work tells us it’s 1591: Marlowe and Shakespeare, therefore, find themselves collaborating on the three parts of Henry VI between the threats posed by religious imbalance and the secret services. The social unrest of late-Tudor England is the foundation of the story.

The political landscape is always mentioned but rarely explored. Living authentically in a society that admits nothing but unambiguous loyalty to a flawed monarchy should raise the stakes for our protagonists, but it only acts as an accessory to the risks they face. It gives grit to their dangerous liaison, but it never becomes the real focal point. Yet, we doubt the audiences are flocking to the show to enjoy a history lesson. It’s all about the electric, sexy, unbridled lust concocted by Gatwa and Bluemel under Evans’s precise direction. It’s a game of cat-and-mouse. Megalomania versus control. Heavy gazes and parted lips. Charged touches and confessions wrapped up in light debates on art, religion, and politics. This is one for the girls, regardless of their gender. 

The production would be a resounding flop without Gatwa and Bluemel. Their bond is fun and attractive, magnetic in how it compels us to forgive the flimsiness of the script, the fluctuating quality of its dialogues, and its (mis)use of specific terminology. The abundance of chemistry is enough to instigate a reaction. The pair revel in the sexual tension just as much as they savour the comedy, continuously altering the dynamic of their roles. While the play takes itself a little too seriously at times, the duo succeeds at maintaining a balanced tone even when, in discussing the nuances of their writing, the text negates all subtext and brutally puts everything to the forefront for the public to see.

But it’s not all hot yearning and provocation. The political side might be just added context at the end of the day, but it creates two young men with so much heart that they don’t know what to do with the excess. They aren’t equipped to handle each other’s hubris and crack under the weight of the expectations of polite society. Will relentlessly spurns Kit’s double life, but runs across a plague-ridden city without a single second thought when Kit calls. Duffy Adams builds her characters on contradiction and stature, tearing them off their contemporary pedestal and exploiting their reputation as a tantalising ultimate prize. Debauchery is a response to a cruel world and poetry is the means to knowing one’s true form. Born With Teeth may often be transparent and rather imperfect, but it’s thrilling entertainment.

Born With Teeth runs at the Wyndham's Theatre until 1 November.

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