Representation in the performing arts in the UK is in crisis. For years, voices have been warning of the lack of authentic working-class actors in TV and Theatre. Audition fees at the top drama schools are absurdly high; concurrently, schemes like The Television Workshop, an affordable training ground for working-class actors, are seeing their funding cut. A recent survey also revealed that 35% of BAFTA nominees were privately educated, and that middle-class actors often take working-class roles. There is much to read about the working-class artist in the UK’s journals and platforms, less so about first-generation migrants. However, a quick look at Migrants in Theatre’s website, set up by Alexandru Istudor, Lara Parmiani, and Nastazja Domaradzka in the UK in 2020, tells you what you need to know about the statistics. More than 14% of the population in the UK are first-generation migrants, yet their representation in the arts is far less than this. More recently, concerns have been raised about those who identify as migrant and working class, and the propensity for such actors to be typecast into stereotypical roles.
A Working Class Hero, shown at Voila! Theatre Festival, explores how a first-generation migrant fits into this class warfare. The sixty-minute two-hander by Theo Hristov, who also acts, explores access, representation and identity in the arts in the UK. Historically, Hristov is of Bulgarian descent and says in an interview that he is working class (he went to a non paying state school and qualified for free school dinners). But he’s increasingly found that his “national, cultural and ethnic identity” was pigeonholing him into a weird situation where he could either be, as an actor, working class or a migrant – but not both at the same time.
The play explores what this can do to creative ambition and a person’s personal life. Hristov plays Stephan, a migrant working class actor and writer who is trying to find his way in the acting world alongside his friend Posh Actor, played by Hristov’s real-life friend Oscar Nicholson. Whilst Stephan struggles to find roles other than the Migrant Villain, Posh Actor is immediately successful. Whilst Stephan isn’t even supported by his agent – played by Nicholson (in a take on the agent in Extras played by Stephen Merchant, who is also working class) Posh Actor is fought for tooth and nail by his own agent – played of course by Hristov, who is of course middle to upper class. But then, Posh Actor becomes frustrated with his success and seeks out another challenge – to play a working-class character in a gritty northern TV drama. One duly arrives, and the Posh Actor is cast – the only problem is, Stephan is the writer, and he wrote the main part for himself. Cut Glass, the production company, won’t cast Stephan, his face “does not fit”. So Stephan is allowed to write a working-class drama, but he can’t star in it. As a result, Stephan and Posh Actor’s relationship begins to break down.
Whilst the play, directed by Blanka Szentandrássy, is all a bit Extras and spends longer than is necessary setting itself up, it is also a play within a play. The most poignant scene is where Posh Actor steps away from being Posh Actor and steps into his real role in life, as Stephan’s/ Hristov’s friend. Nicholson tells Stephan/Hristov that the play is a bit obvious about what it is trying to achieve, or words to that effect. At this point, Stephan/Hristov is backed up against a wall, out of energy. He looks like a man who has fought his last battle. It is this scene which brings home to the audience the emotional, creative, spiritual, and even physical toll that this class warfare and discrimination in the arts can cause.
But it is also a puzzle.
It’s where we see Stephan/Hristov physically separated from Nicholson/Posh Actor and in an entirely different universe – it’s where we see truth on stage for the first time and have a sudden, but all too brief insight into Hristov’s own struggles in the arts (already documented in interviews he has given). It also brings a conundrum to the fore. How can this lived experience of discrimination in the arts, which plays out in such stereotypical ways, be presented onstage in any other way than by mocking caricature and through stereotypes?
How is Hristov and others like him meant to form any identity to be able to successfully map an artistic path in this discriminatory, gate-keepered and pyramid-like structure that is the arts in the UK? What is “posh”? What is being working class and a migrant? What is identity?
The play does not answer these questions, however, nor does it explore them enough. Nor does it look at the situation from the perspective of a working class actor as much as it could. The play is “laugh out loud“, but it suffers from repeating a few ideas over and over. This is also true of the physical theatre elements, where Stephan is at pains to try and move crates onstage whilst Posh Actor, of course, can lift them with his little finger. Whilst these moments are cleverly integrated into the play, they appear a bit half heartedly which then becomes a bit grating. If the idea is to show that Stephan is caught in this repetitive discriminatory loop which physically and emotionally weakens him, then the metaphor should be pushed to beyond its limits. This would relieve Stephan of the psychological burden and stress caused by the discrimination and prejudice, and reiterate the violence and trauma of it to the audience at the same time.
There are some complex themes and ideas in this play, and it deserves more development to bring them into sharper focus.
The play was on at Barons Court Theatre as part of Voila! Theatre Festival and at the Pleasance for a short run.
This post was written by the author in their personal capacity.The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect the view of The Theatre Times, their staff or collaborators.
This post was written by Verity Healey.
The views expressed here belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect our views and opinions.
