THE TRANSATLANTIC MAGAZINE
THE TRANSATLANTIC MAGAZINE
A new play by Cole Escola
Trafalgar Theatre, 14 Whitehall, London SW1A 2DY until April 25, 2026
This arrives in the West End garlanded with Tonys including for its creator and original performer Cole Escola. Lauded on Broadway for its originality in gleefully discarding historical accuracy in favor of anarchic comedy and queer sensibility, for Brits it begs the question – have these people never seen panto?
I get Americans' bewilderment with panto, and the thinking that (like warm beer and no aircon) it's just quaint, but why then has this been so lauded?
Its central idea is a blast. Mary Todd Lincoln was recorded in the history books as ‘difficult’, and her haughty manner made her unpopular with other Washington wives. Escola runs with this and imagines that what drove her frustration was that she had had a secret desire to be a cabaret performer. The tension between Mary’s desire to perform and the constraints of First Ladyhood becomes the engine for the play’s escalating absurdity.
When we meet her she’s the most bitter thwarted wife you can imagine. The jokes come thick and fast. Like Will and Grace or (lesser) Neil Simon however, Escola can’t resist jeopardising the emotional line of a scene for a quick gag. It’s broad and silly and Holly Pierson’s wonderful period costumes recall Carol Burnett staggering around in an enormous hoop skirt in that great Gone with the Wind parody.
The real joy of it is Mason Alexander Park who has the presence, the perfect diction and the razor-sharp timing of a great stand-up. They made a name for themselves here last year in Jamie Lloyd’s Tempest and Much Ado and is a great addition to the London theater scene. Their stamina here is a wonder. Giles Terera, who seems to be everywhere recently, is a total hoot as ‘Mary’s husband’ too, and Kate O’Donnell brings a sly wit to ‘Mary’s Chaperone’.
Sam Pinkleton directs it at a cracking pace, with total blackouts punctuating many sharp scenes. The scenic design by ‘dots’ (a design collective in NYC) is gloriously witty too. It’s true to the period but by bringing it way down stage it gives the impression of figures in a dolls house. Later scenes (which I can’t spoil) are designed with similar finesse.
The whole thing plays to its Gen Z audience, demolishing heteronormativity at every turn and is not so much revisionist as incendiary, but then you don’t go to this for a history lesson. At times it recalled for me the legendary Duckie cabaret at the infamous Vauxhall Tavern which was a staple of the London gay scene for decades. Like that it’s a cathartic scream by a pissed off minority against the oppressors, and hurrah for all that.
In theater terms though, where you need 90 minutes instead of 10 as at Duckie, it runs out of steam. The central problem is that she has no narrative arc, redemption or otherwise, and never develops, as in a bad sitcom. At least in panto world the baddies get their comeuppance and all is well with the world, but here she’s the same person at the end, still curdled in bitterness.
There’s a dark hole in the middle of this, mainly to do with its inability to deal with Mary’s inability to even contemplate intimacy despite a brief tryst with the incredibly hunky ‘Mary’s Teacher’ (Dino Fetscher). For a show that trades on smut it’s almost prim. It’s not that Mary’s heart never gets a chance to melt, it’s that she has none in the first place, and in the end throwing emotional connection out the window along with the hated heteronormativity is throwing the baby out with the bathwater. I’m not sure how reclaiming a maligned historical figure through queer imagination works if you don’t care about what’s been constructed.
This attracted a cool hipster audience who totally lapped it up and indeed it is great to see a younger demographic at the theater, but oldies might be a bit less enamored of it. “Chacun à son goût” as the French say.
