Linck & Mülhahn

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But the whole thing is too gimmicky and too self-conscious in its juxtaposition of different eras to really work. Imaginatively reverse-engineered from a historic trial document, Ruby Thomas’s tale of a couple who pioneered gender flexibility in 18th century Prussia is, ultimately, a bit of a mess. There’s potentially rich material here, but Thomas’s freely invented portrait of two happy-go-lucky nonconformists is very much a 21st-century morality play about intolerance, ignorance and the evils of the patriarchy. Thomas’ play tries to encourage us to go beyond initial impressions to appreciate one’s fine, inner being, but I am only left enjoying this production in a wider, general sense, with the deeper ideas not quite shining through.

Maggie Bain’s enigmatic Linck is “neither man nor woman” but a suave and witty quipster with polished bedroom skills. Ruby Thomas's ambitious, drop-dead gorgeous piece roars onto Hampstead Theatre’s main stage with a rare swagger and brio, full of scintillating wit, swashbuckling action and ultimately a hugely satisfying emotional wallop. The romantic sparring between the lovers is as clipped and ironic as that of any Noel Coward couple, but Linck agrees to Mülhahn’s suggestion they marry with the words, “F*** it, let’s do it”.The cast also include Lucy Black (The Durrells, The Haystack), as Mother, plus Daniel Abbott, David Carr, Marty Cruickshank, Kammy Darweish, Qasim Mahmood, Leigh Quinn and Timothy Speyer. They will be joined by Daniel Abbott, David Carr, Marty Cruickshank, Kammy Darweish, Qasim Mahmood, Leigh Quinn and Timothy Speyer. The play is over-packed as a narrative, however, with several underwritten characters, such as the foppish suitor for Mülhahn, and the contemporary resonances sometimes feel heavily underscored or didactic. The technical storage or access is strictly necessary for the legitimate purpose of enabling the use of a specific service explicitly requested by the subscriber or user, or for the sole purpose of carrying out the transmission of a communication over an electronic communications network. Anastasius Linck, an orphaned army deserter, was sentenced to death; their wife got off with a three-year jail term, after pleading ignorance of her husband’s sex at the time of their marriage.

These meagre but glinting spokes form the basis of Ruby Thomas's freewheeling reconstruction, which casts Anastasius not as a lesbian but as neither woman nor man.I linger’, she says, both women relishing all the humour in a script that's stuffed with larky historicisms like ‘zounds’ and ‘dunderhead’. All well and good, but I wish Thomas and her director Owen Horsley had dug more deeper and faithfully into the story's period setting, and allowed us to care about both characters as messy, complicated products of their specific moment rather than as emblematic figures co-opted by history, even if the words non binary and trans are conspicuously not used. Unlike Hampstead theatre, which, stripped of its grant last year, has just put on the most exhilarating play I’ve seen there for ages.

Take, for instance, Lucy Black’s permanently aghast Mother, who is brilliantly funny in her fragility and her shock at even the slightest deviation from the norm. Ruby Thomas' epic and playful love story, inspired by eighteenth-century court records and the extraordinary lives of a gender-pioneering couple, opened at Hampstead Theatre, London, in January 2023. Based on real events and characters, Ruby Thomas’s play is a rapier-sharp historical romp, festooned with sparkling dialogue, that ultimately draws blood and tears.Linck is all cocky confidence: poignantly, the moment he finally starts to show Mulhahn his vulnerability is the moment when men storm in with the inevitable arrest warrant. Owen Horsley directs at Hampstead for the first time; his credits for the RSC include the recent double bill of Rebellion and Wars of the Roses, as well as Maydays and Salomé. Ruby Thomas’ epic and playful modern love story is inspired by eighteenth century court records and the extraordinary true lives of this gender pioneering couple. Linck was executed by sword, as befitted a male soldier, rather than by burning, the punishment for a woman: proof that the authorities couldn’t pin down what, precisely, offended them about the couple, at a time when religious certainties were also shifting. Anastasius Linck boldly renounces skirts and embroidery in favour of living as a man, and Catharina Mulhahn's own act of bravery is to love and marry him, slipping their relationship right under the noses of their narrow-minded neighbours.