Photos by Ivo de Jager

Sweetmeat: A Darkly Erotic Queer Banquet of Longing and Liberation

Queer theatre is at its best when it unsettles and provokes, and Sweetmeat at the Old Red Lion Theatre does just that, sinking its teeth into the complexities of desire, connection, and pain. Written by Ivo de Jager and directed by Connor Geoghegan, this gripping 90-minute play is raw, intimate, and not afraid to explore the darker corners of the Queer experience.

At the heart of the story is Sigmund, a man whose sadistic impulses have stalked him since childhood, now sharpened by the internet’s echo chambers and dulled only slightly by medication. After losing his fiancĂ©e and home, he finds himself crashing with Christian, a librarian whose past is just as battered as his collection of second-hand books. What begins as an uneasy cohabitation spirals into something far more intense – an exploration of trust, vulnerability, and how far we’re willing to go for release.

Sweetmeat takes Queer intimacy and turns it inside out, making space for its beauty and its darkness.

The set is disarmingly simple: a sofa, a chair, a table, a red-patterned rug, and a stark white backdrop. Domestic, sure, but also quietly unnerving – like a space that knows too much. Jess Parritt’s lighting design shifts this cosy scene into something more sinister, seamlessly reflecting the characters’ volatile emotional states. It’s the kind of staging that whispers, “You’ll be uncomfortable, but you can’t look away.”

Matthew Dunlop delivers a performance that is both fragile and fearsome, embodying Sigmund’s internal chaos with unnerving precision. Jamie McClean’s Christian is the perfect foil – warm, endearing, but layered with a quiet ache that makes his moments of intensity hit even harder. Together, they create a connection that feels authentic, volatile, and deeply unsettling. You’ll find yourself rooting for them and recoiling from them, often in the same breath.

What makes Sweetmeat stand out is its unflinching look at self-harm and the ways it intersects with Queer identity. It examines not just the solitary act but the complex, sometimes dangerous, need to share pain with others. For Sigmund and Christian, harm and healing blur, raising uncomfortable questions about how Queer people navigate their loneliness, trauma, and yearning for connection in a world that so often rejects them. This is theatre that doesn’t hold your hand – it grabs you by the throat and insists you sit with the discomfort.

But don’t mistake this for gratuitous darkness. De Jager’s writing has a sharpness that cuts through the gloom, offering moments of levity and profound humanity. It’s not all doom and despair – there’s a vulnerability here that shines through the pain, a reminder that even our darkest impulses are rooted in a desire to be seen and loved.

Final Thoughts ★★★★

Would I recommend Sweetmeat? Without a doubt, though it’s not for the faint-hearted. This is dark, daring Queer theatre that takes risks and lands them with precision. Messy, painful, and deeply real, it pierces through the heart of Queer relationships, offering a haunting exploration of intimacy and the ways we release our pain.

Plays like this are rare, and Sweetmeat is a must-watch for Queer people and, frankly, anyone with the courage to face its raw truths. As the lights went out, I found myself still grappling with its questions – and isn’t that what great theatre is meant to do?

Playing at the Old Red Lion Theatre until 23 November 2024.

Disclaimer: A complimentary ticket was provided in return for an honest and unbiased review.

More Reading