We caught up with theatrical producer Barry Church-Woods to find out more about their new show, TERF, currently on stage as part of the Edinburgh Festival Fringe.
STARBURST: Introduce yourself, please.
Barry Church-Woods: I’m an artist, activist, and live arts producer based in Edinburgh (most of the time). If you Google me, you’ll find loads of work I’ve been associated with or created myself. You’ll also find some writing on the art of producing, a lot of press cancelling me and my company Civil Disobedience for one reason or the other – I’m always on the right side of history – and some funny columns I wrote when I was bored and thought I should run a queer website. There will also be a lot of thirsty pics of me in various stages of undress as I build my audience for my comedy boylesque career.
But today, I’m here to talk about the fact that I’m producing TERF, Joshua Kaplan’s new play about JK Rowling and her gender-critical beliefs.
How would you pitch TERF to someone who is really into fantasy fiction and publishing?
It’s the story of a single mum who has a fantastic idea to write a book about a young boy wizard and his chums. It focuses on her meteoric rise to fame after signing her first book deal and the power and influence that comes from having a readership of half a billion. It’s not the entire focus of the narrative, but there’s some great stuff in there around her relationship with her publisher and navigating those problematic goblins. It also addresses the cult of celebrity thrust upon the franchise’s young stars. Ultimately, though, it’s storytelling. Joshua Kaplan made it all up. Well, most of it. The premise is absolutely based in fact, but of course no one knows what has gone on behind closed doors.
And how would you pitch it to someone who is a fan of RuPaul’s Drag Race UK?
Guuuuuuurl. It’s about this shady bitch who keeps coming into the ‘workroom’ claiming that only the AFAB queens should be there, despite the fact that 1. It’s not her world, and 2. No-one fucking asked her opinion. At first, she’s surprised that people respond badly to her and tries to blame it on the edit, but by the end, we all know that biiiiiiiitch… she’s the one who said it. And she probably can’t sow.
STARBURST readers love science fiction, fantasy, and horror stories and tend to enjoy groundbreaking and progressive shows such as Star Trek and Doctor Who. What is the appeal of this show to our readership?
Well, both those shows are famous for breaking ground on discussions around civil rights and have been instrumental in profiling the advancement of equality through representation. TERF is aiming to do the same, albeit through a much more obvious lens of focusing on the antagonist’s negative impact on a marginalised community and searching for resolve. But it’s also a multifaceted production with a lot of nuance, subtext and indicative allyship. I fell in love with this show because of the writing. Before we had a cast, it was just me and Joshua Kaplan and his script. He is an incredibly disciplined and observant writer – just check out his work on Tokyo Vice. Some days, he reminds me of Russell T Davies in that he has a sophisticated knack for addressing issues without ramming them down your throat and making the whole experience seem overly didactic. I’ll posit that Josh is much funnier than Russell, though Russell will always hold a very special place in my queer little heart.
What’s been the hardest part of the production so far?
I’m pretty thick-skinned and have been doing work for a long time that pisses people off for one reason or another. I’ve gotten used to people misinterpreting the intent of a project before they see it, but this is definitely on a different level and has spilt into my family life, with trolls actively pestering my relatives. The subject matter has proven controversial for sure.
As soon as we announced our intention to bring it to Edinburgh, we were bombarded with threats of protest from gender-critical groups and individuals before even understanding the concept of the show or reading the script. To them, the fact that this is about their icon, JK Rowling, meant it must also be about them, too, and as always, the unhappiest voices are the loudest. This meant that before we even got into conversations with potential venue partners about the work, we were having to address the practicality of hosting it, and the additional resource this would require the venue to provide. Understandably, a lot of the multiplex venues felt that the potential disruption to other shows would be too high a price to pay. But it’s definitely frustrating that it’s also getting in the way of the conversations about the actual work.
What is the most important lesson to learn during rehearsal?
To give it time to sit. To find the humanity in all of the characters. To honour the writing. As I’ve said before, it’s a terrifically clever script, and Josh has spent years finessing it to ensure that different perspectives of the conversation are represented. It’s also hilarious in parts. Some of the behaviour is abhorrent, and some content is quite visceral, so it’s important to provide light relief for the audience. However, having spent the last week in the rehearsal room, this is absolutely not a concern. The cast is flawless and has great chemistry, so the words are just jumping off the paper.
What has been the most ridiculous moment so far?
Having someone ask us to sign a gag order that would offer them full impunity from their terrible behaviour and leave the show fully vulnerable.
Why the Edinburgh Fringe?
Josh originally approached me as he’d already decided that he wanted to premier the show in Edinburgh, and he knew that was my stomping ground. If he’d come to me with the script and asked for ideas for development, we’d be in the exact same predicament, as I genuinely believe that the Fringe is the only place to break work of this nature. Apart from being the cultural centre of the universe in August, it also gives us a chance to represent it to an international audience willing to take risks, get it in front of hundreds of critics and, of course, court industry mods for the future development of the show.
Who are Civil Disobedience, and what’s it all about?
We’re a live arts production house whose work focuses on amplifying the voices of marginalised communities and using art as activism to challenge the current injustices in the world. We started out a very queer company focussing on issues affecting the rainbow family, but that work very quickly became intersectional. I cut my teeth making AIDS response work, with one of my earlier creative successes being directing a national tour of Larry Kramer’s The Normal Heart – a depiction of the work of ACT UP and the Gay Men Health Crisis during the early years of the epidemic – and was lucky enough to have Kramer take me under his wing for a bit during my fledgling career as an activist. It’s fair to say his politics and the work of ACT UP rubbed off on me so hard that it grazed my skin, but from that point on, I considered most of my work to be founded in the tenets of Civil Disobedience. Maybe not quite accessing the national transport grid to cause disruption, but certainly agitating the norm and shaking people out of their complacency. It’s not all presented in anger. I’m a firm believer that you catch more flies with honey, and sometimes the route to helping people understand that they’re on the wrong side of history is helping them see aspects of themselves reflected in someone else’s hubris.
How similar is this to other projects you’ve worked on?
It’s actually quite different and represents a significant step-change for Civil Disobedience in getting back into a traditional space and presenting a more conventional theatre offering. Most of our large-scale theatre projects in the past have been immersive experiences that have involved either developing apps for outdoor walking tours (thank Covid for that massive ball-ache pivot on a project) or building makeshift queer spaces and asking the audience to experience it as both observer and participant. The storytelling is still the same, though. The themes continue to be universal. It’s still about injustice, bullying, the need to protect our community, confirmation bias and the general desire for the betterment of society.
What is your favourite moment in the show?
Too many to choose from. The cast has incredible chemistry, and the play between Piers, Trelawny, and Tom, who play the film cast, is incredibly dynamic. We’re working with a wonderful trans artist in the show who provides some perspective from their community. Their work is visceral and frames the show. Due to safeguarding concerns, we are keeping their identity private while we can. But what’s really killing me right now is that Laura Kay Bailey is incredible as JK Rowling and has impeccable comic timing. Throughout the show, there are comic barbs that attest to her character’s likeability, but it’s fair to say that she manages to straddle the inherent cruelty in JK’s gender-critical beliefs with a thoughtful interpretation of character that keeps her well out of villain territory. There are moments that take my breath away throughout the show, but there’s a particularly devastating scene towards the end with her father.
Where else can we see you?
I’m currently in pre-production on another theatre show, Now I Know You’re Mine. This one I wrote is the tale of two teenage friends from West Lothian hitchhiking their way to London’s Wembley Stadium in July 1990 to see Madonna’s Blonde Ambition Tour. It’s an old-fashioned tale of friendship, fandom and self-discovery and is set against a backdrop of Section 28, the AIDS crisis and a lingering echo of the Poll Tax riots. The script was commissioned earlier this year and is drawn partially from my own violent experiences of the anti-Scottish ‘Settler Watch’ movement in Norfolk, being a teenager from Livingston’s poorest area in the late eighties and finding an ally through Madonna’s politics. The tagline says it’s a story of hope, of resilience, of falling in love… and of turning tricks in lay-bys to pay for macaroni pies.
What’s your next big project after the Fringe has ended?
I have a visual arts practice and will be going straight into the studio to finish my HIV de-stigmatization exhibition LOADED, which opens in November and includes a series of portraits made from my bodily fluids, including blood, piss and cum. The pieces are all collaborations with models where I interrogate their relationship to HIV and their understanding of advancements in medicine – usually incorporating text from either their favourite books or some of their own creative writing around the subject. I have all the drafts done and am now in the final stages of upscaling the concepts to exhibition standards. They’re on a much larger scale than I usually work, which means the bleeding aspect is both time-consuming and fatiguing, so I’m going to be spending most of the rest of the year locked away and focused on that.
Simpsons or Futurama?
I grew up on Simpsons. In fact, I’m pretty sure I had a Cowabunga t-shirt when I was going through puberty. I tried to watch some of the new series recently and felt it had maybe lost its edge a little. Maybe I was just tired and should give it another go. Futurama, however, always makes me giggle. It’s just so daft. It certainly helps matters that I’ve been obsessed with Katy Segal since Married with Children.
Ursula Le Guin or Terry Pratchett?
Pratchett. I could never get up at 5.30am every morning to work. Le Guin sounded like a psychopath. 5.30am should only be used for cheap flights, club night afterparties and the occasional Grindr visitor when you have insomnia.
Sondheim or Webber?
One of them was a flag-flying cock-sucking genius, and the other was a member of the House of Lords. I’m sure you can guess where my proclivities lie. I am a massive Madonna stan, and while Evita is definitely a masterpiece, nothing quite compares to Madonna singing Sondheim’s Sooner or Later at the Oscars in the ’90s. I recently attended And Friends, the celebration of Sondheim’s work and had the joy of witnessing Bernadette Peters sing some of his most profound work, so it’s Sondheim, hands down.
Magic Wands or Sonic Screw Drivers?
The last time I was asked that question was by my ex in the basement of a sex shop in Manchester he was working in, but I’m guessing this is not about Clonezone’s dildo marketing strategy during Comic Con. So, I’m going to have to say wands, based on a hilarious moment in TERF that acknowledges some of the less successful Potter franchise merchandise.
As a side note, if you haven’t already, you should check out Elizabeth Berkley’s Comic Con Q&A from 2023. I’m truly happy she’s finally getting her moment in the sun after Showgirls.
Doctor No or Doctor Strange?
If I say Dr No, then the Mumsnet crowd will start a board about how the producer of TERF thinks it’s ok that Sean Connery slapped his wife. If I say Dr Strange, it’ll be ingenuous because the last one was edited so choppily that it made me feel sick and all I really liked about the first one was that Tilda Swinton was in it. Dr Snuggles? I do love James Bond though, despite the inherent misogyny.
Truth or Beauty?
My school motto was honesty is the best policy, and that place was a fucking dump.
You can book for TERF here and find out more about the show here.
