It was four performances into Tylwyth, two and a half years ago, that the Sherman Theatre had to close its doors due to the pandemic. Roughly 10 years prior, its characters had debuted in Daf James’ first play, Llwyth. You don’t need to be a Welsh speaker to enjoy this sequel of sorts, but it might help.
Thinking back to Llwyth, it’s fair to say Tylwyth improves on it, in both story and style. The characters are much more world-weary, and in some cases given more engaging obstacles. Aneurin, a writer, is plagued with more demons – his bardic craft delivered as soliloquy, a role that could only ever be Simon Watts. Simon seems to make the world hang on his shoulders as Aneurin; it’s strikingly relatable as a gay Welshman, those being the two main themes spanning both plays.
Tylwyth screams Cardiff – the amount of references to the city are boundless. There are a lot of puns in Daf’s script too, as well as some filthy dialogue and an unbridled sense of gay joy. In many respects, these men have not changed at all since the first outing, even if the city has a great deal. Gay clubs feature heavily and bring back memories of the ones we’ve lost over the years and the ones which remain (though real-life Cardiff circa 2022 has no gay sauna, unlike this play). Friends and their dynamics are questioned, as politics, parenthood and allround responsibilities are challenged.
Aneurin has now adopted two children with his lover Dan, yet is plagued with doubts, carrying the belief that a child should have a mother: a form of internalised homophobia, we see this stem from his own childhood. Gavin, the youngest character, has a lot going on; here, Aled Ap Steffan grapples very well with the pressing urgency of his character’s trapped conflictions. As Dan, Steffan Harri is the new boy in town, settled in with Aneurin – leading to a fine monologue after a night of many regrets. Arwel Davies’ Rhys seems to have changed most in politics and manner, quite devilish in his barbed remarks and quick wit.
Returning to the role, Michael Humphreys is working-class lad Gareth, coupled with Rhys in a testing open relationship. The topic of drug rehab is addressed with honesty, even if the truth of Gareth’s cleanness is tested. Tying all the characters together is the group’s eldest friend Dada – played with wonderful presence from Danny Grehan – who spends time helping troubled Gavin get back on his feet, and is someone we could see more of; perhaps a backstory could feature in another script?
Little tastes of magic realism also pop into Tylwyth at times, whilst the play and its predecessor’s debt to Mart Crowley’s The Boys In The Band cannot be ignored. Gay representation has been on the up ever since the off-Broadway premier of that seminal play, and Daf has done a great job in bringing the gay, Welsh-speaking roles to our own stage. I was fighting for my life in attempts to digest the captioned English translation, the actors working at David Mamet velocity, though smatterings of dialogue were in English.
The set of Tom Rogers tries to be a lot of things, though is most successful in sauna mode and which rotated as the actors walk upon it. This is well-trodden material for director Arwel Gruffydd, who also directed Llwyth: here, things are more insightful and heartwarming, the attention to detail noted.
I also realised how lovely it was to see these characters again, evoking the warm feeling of meeting a good friend you haven’t seen in forever. This is what gay men experience in Wales, though bigger issues also prevail. Tylwyth’s unashamedly mawkish ending is one big soggy gay kiss and it was hard to resist.
Tylwyth, Sherman Theatre, Cardiff, Wed 28 Sept
On until Fri 30 Sept, then touring Wales. Tickets: £8-£27. Info: here
words JAMES ELLIS
