When Love and Hate Collide
Last night I was banged up in a top security prison with killers, rapists, robbers and those who describe themselves as monsters, and they all had something in common – They are all able to love, writes Michael Holland.
Nobody knows what goes on in the minds of those who commit serious crime, unless, of course, you sit down and talk with them, get to know them, become one of them for a couple of hours.
Which is why I spent an evening immersed in jail, surrounded by cons and screws and claustrophobic prison beds, tormented by jangling keys and slamming doors as the inmates went about their tedious daily routine, punctuated only by banter and the occasional brawl.
This was the world of Kiss Marry Kill, co-written by Daphna Attias, Terry O’Donovan and James Baldwin who had done deep research on LBGT issues and rights in prisons after they had read a story about two Category A prisoners getting married in jail. Between them they fictionalised a play that tells that story.
Through movement, choreographed riots, dialogue and rap, Kiss Marry Kill begins with Jay (Dauda Ladejobi) just about to be tempted into a homosexual encounter when a friend enters the toilet and sees what it going on. Jay murders the man and explains it away by saying he was being sexually assaulted. He is jailed, leaving behind a pregnant girlfriend, who he plans to marry.
In a high security prison he has to fight for his place in the pecking order there, and after a few personality clashes he becomes close to Paul (Graham Mackay Bruce), the wing hard man and getter of contraband. At a price.
After a time their relationship becomes very close until the Governor (Frank Skully) steps in to warn Jay that he needs to think of his young family and keep his head down so that he can get out of the Cat. A system and move to a prison nearer his home. Love, however, is a powerful emotion.
Complaints are made about the couple’s intimacy and when the Governor tries to come down hard on them they retaliate with prison rules and the rights of inmates to get married. Yes, this is meant to mean marry someone of the opposite sex who is not in prison, but when those rules were drawn up nobody foresee what could happen. They demand to be married in jail and the Governor has no option other than to agree.
The story flies through time at an electrifying speed and you have to fill in a lot yourself, which means you never really get to know the characters, but still a tale is told here.
Weaving in and out of this complex situation is Lady Lykez who plays a prison officer and Jay’s girlfriend, plus, periodically enters the action with raps that accentuates and throws light on the stripped down, succinct dialogue.
Kiss Marry Kill is a fast-paced, high-energy, hard-hitting production that depicts some of the realities of jail time: cancelled visits, loneliness, the constant threat of danger… But with several ex-offenders on the team as a resource for detail, I expected that.
There was a Q&A after and Frank Skully spoke about there being no LBGT rights in prison in the 80s and 90s, so the play’s highlight for me was him as the Governor officiating at the wedding and having the pleasure of pronouncing Jay and Paul ‘Husband and Husband’.
Kiss Marry Kill goes a long way in explaining the hardships of the LBGT community who find themselves locked up, but no one has yet found any answers. In this production it is love that wins over the hate, but this is just one story and there is still a long way to go.
Stone Nest, 136 Shaftesbury Avenue, London W1D 5EZ Mon to Sat at 7.30pm. Until 27th April.
Booking via www.danteordie.com
