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Mammy's House
TNC THEATRE REVIEW | 2026
Mammy's House
Upstairs at the Gatehouse
1 – 13 Sept | 19:30
Creator: Derek Murphy
Writer: Amy Clarke
Director: Brian Brady
Images © Anthony J Cook
Sept, 3, 2026
History can be complex, and it can be even more troublesome when those who are being written about don’t have any power over how their stories will be remembered. The 1980s were a paradox for the gay community. The initial fight was for rights and equality under the British law, but stigma and persecution were rife. Even though some headway was being made, the start of the AIDS epidemic in the 1980s, and later the introduction of Section 28, would create a double fight that the LGBTQ community had little energy for. Coming out could have devastating consequences on your life, with many teens running away to big cities and finding comfort and support in gay bars, squats and houses. Since the late 1960s, with the creation of Drag Houses, the chosen families within the LGBTQ community have been very important. It was through these families that a generation of gay lives were saved.
Set in a typical terraced house in Camden, Mammy’s House explores a part of London, Irish, and queer history that’s rarely given space within the canon of gay theatre. Barry, known as Mammy by his friends, Derek Murphy, is the somewhat exhausted mother figure to Niall/Nellie, Conor O’Dwyer, a cowboy-obsessed Drag Queen in training. They share their home with Mags, Jemma Curran, a former nurse and proud lesbian who currently works at The Black Cap, Camden’s legendary gay bar. One evening, Shay, Justin Ensor, a relative of Mammy’s, comes to stay on his way back to New York from Ireland. A brief conversation between Mammy and Shay brings to light Shay’s experiences in New York and the new illness that’s affecting his friends.
I’ll be honest, and I am not saying this for the sake of trying to be sensational, but Mammy’s House shouldn’t have worked. There is way too much history to be crammed into a two-hour play. I never went into this production with that in my mind, but it was hovering slightly. Creators Derek Murphy and Amy Clarke have somehow managed to pull off something impossible; they’ve been able to tell an original story that powerfully combines three social narratives: gay, women’s, and Irish history. Moreover, they have done it with the utmost respect, never sensationalising or trying to play on their audience's emotions. Instead, what they’ve done is present a story that feels historic, compassionate, and ultimately inspiring.
The way Mammy’s House is staged is interesting, with director Brian Brady allowing long beats in between scene changes. And there are a lot of them, which could have diminished the flow but don’t; in fact, these scene changes add additional depth whilst also allowing the audience to take a moment to breathe. Clarke’s writing puts you on an emotional rollercoaster, but it is balanced with humour, realism, and insight.
When Ensor walks in, you feel a weight, a burden, a pain emanate from Shay. The conversation between Mammy and Shay doesn’t just feel real; it feels as if it was trapped in time. Too often, when period plays are staged, there’s a tendency to use hindsight to give pseudo-depth to the story. It can be frustrating. And yet in these early conversations, they feel organic, and Shay, though undoubtedly afraid, seems to summon all his strength not to show it. This comes out a little later in a conversation with Nellie, who asks Shay if he’s been in love. It’s in this moment that Nellie’s facade falls and he’s as honest as he’ll ever get. It’s a slow moment that serves multiple purposes. This allows Ensor’s to create a lasting impression; he brings out the beauty of a character who seems certain of his fate.
Another important storyline was between Mags and Shay’s mum, Sally, Ciara Pouncett. As time skips by, Sally grows into herself and discovers who she is. Her transformation is akin to Rachael Leigh Cook’s character in She’s All That. But it’s much deeper than that. It seems that Sally’s transformation comes from being part of a community that showed her she had nothing to fear, and that it was ok for her to be herself. And she does look happy. We don’t gain anything by running away from who we are or from communities that accept us. Sally’s transformation is the soul truly triumphing over all its adversities to claim the life it deserves.
Throughout Mammy’s House, The Black Cap, an iconic gay bar in Camden where Mags works, is mentioned a lot. From the 1960s till its closure in 2015, The Black Cap was as much an institution to the gay community as The Royal Vauxhall Tavern across the river. Every time The Black Cap is mentioned, you get a sense of this community and what it meant to have a safe space.
Mammy’s House is a reminder of how important community is and why we must remember the past. What Murphy, Clarke, and Brady have created is a play that gives great space to history without suffocating it with anger. It’s too easy to write plays, films, books, or create any art that talks about LGBTQ history through an angry lens. We see too much of this as it is. Instead, Murphy and Clarke give voice to those people who experienced the unimaginable horror of living through the AIDS epidemic.
There is a beauty in the dignity that is sown into the fabric of Mammy’s House that leaves you in awe. Clarke’s text is deeply touching, honest, and authentic. It’s not only the AIDS epidemic that’s the focus of her text, but also the persecution of the Irish expats in London, the hostilities they faced, and the social/political struggles of women back home in Ireland.
With Mags talking about an AIDS ward she’s been working on made me think of the Middlesex Hospital. Though it was demolished in 2008, the Middlesex Hospital Chapel remains. Whenever I am in Central London, near Fitzrovia, I try to make an effort to go. Sometimes I sit outside; if it’s open, I like to go inside, but I can’t stay too long. I imagine the hundreds, thousands of AIDS patients who might have found solace within those walls. Friends and family who pleaded with God, or who found some comfort in a one-way conversation. As society grows and changes, what usually happens is that the very fabric of our communities changes, sometimes irreparably. I am struck by this, and by how the demolition of The Middlesex Hospital, a place that Princess Diana and First Lady Barbara Bush visited and helped to dispel prejudices around AIDS and HIV, has gone. Gone with it, the history of AIDS, the names of those at the centre of the fight, the stories of the many who died. I found this picture of Chapel that’s somewhat haunting. It’s sadder still that the plaque Princess Diana unveiled in 1987, which opened the Broderip Ward, has been lost. This isn’t just a piece of LGBTQ history that was destroyed, but a piece of British history. It’s hard to put into words the fear that engulfed society. Murphy and Clarke used the audio from the notorious “Monolith” campaign “AIDS: Don’t Die of Ignorance”, but even that doesn’t capture the fear.
"What she showed wasn’t bravery alone, but respectful compassion. Seeing those with AIDS as people, not as monsters."
To understand what the LGBTQ community was going through, Professor Matt Cook, in a lecture on World AIDS Day 2016, provides powerful context. The AIDS crisis of the 1980s and 1990s, which had a disproportionately catastrophic impact on queer people and was lethally exacerbated by homophobia and political intransigence… Professor Cook goes further, saying this was a ‘poisonous emotional climate’. And in January 1987…the Daily Mail described AIDS as ‘a moral Chornobyl…’.
This is important when we look at memory, history, struggle, and oppression. Without any markers, it becomes harder for communities to stay cohesive and for the wider society to keep a record. This is part of why Mammy’s House is so salient. The research Murphy and Clarke have done, by talking to people who lived and worked during this time, adds undeniable quality. And it’s this that brings me back to the plaque that Princess Diana unveiled in 1987. Right at the height of fearmongering and uncertainty, one of the most visible women on the planet gave hope and a platform to those society wanted to hide. It’s disheartening to imagine so little care was given to preserving this plaque; it's indescribable. This is indicative of how the legacy of LGBTQ history is protected and preserved. It also underplays the significant role Princess Diana played at the start of the epidemic. What she showed wasn’t bravery alone, but respectful compassion. Seeing those with AIDS as people, not as monsters. Princess Diana did this in 1987, not 1990 or 1992, but right at the beginning. It was an inspiring act truly etched in our collective history; the failure to save this plaque for the nation is unforgivable.
It’s a heavy subject that’s managed with care and respect. Never overwhelming the audience, and always injecting a sense of humour that can only come from an Irish sensibility. This was beautifully captured most heartfeltly when Ginny Tonic, Cheriton/Orla Nothin’, reads out a letter; the PPS, even now, makes me cry. It’s a moment that’s majestic, heartfelt, and honourable. It’s a line that says so much in what could appear to be so simple. And it’s a credit to Clarke’s writing, Brady’s directing, and Cheriton/Orla Nothin’s pitch-perfect delivery that the moment the words are read, you feel a lump in your throat.
Queer theatre ranges in themes and tones. Sometimes they work, and sometimes they don’t. The politics within Queer theatre can, at times, get a little too much. Mammy’s House is heavily political, but doesn’t play the blame game; it’s historical, but doesn’t try to be overly sentimental. The balance Murphy and Clarke have created puts them in a different league altogether. Mammy’s House is one of the most significant new pieces of theatre that respectfully brings a piece of Irish/Queer/London history to the stage.