Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 8.5/10

Cast: Rupert Everett, Reece Budin.

There are people to whom history has, if not forgotten, then slowly erased from public view. Some of these are heroes of war to which their services had to remain under the cover of secrecy and mystery to avoid a conflict of interests later down the line where governments change and public opinion may shift due to the response to falsehoods, allegations, and fear, and it is to the right of the researcher, the scribe, and the playwright that these almost fearless people are now underlined and shown to be for the heroes that they are; no matter what they did before or after the war.

Denis Rake is one such individual to whom history and governments have found perhaps to be a cumbersome spy to have within the rank of file of those to we owe so much, that delivered us from the evil of fascism, his name not one taught alongside those for example who broke out of Colditz, the courage of Violette Szabo, Field Marshall Montgomery, and a whole host of men and women to whom gave their all in the name of freedom.

Indeed, it could be argued that Denis Rake suffered a similar fare of erasure that was placed at the soul of Alan Turing, the difference is the public, once made aware of his displacement, rallied behind the shy gay genius; what happened to the drag performer after the war was slow expurgation, perhaps his nature to much of a concern for the Britain that many clung onto after the end of the war, and aside from one interview in the documentary The Sorrow and the Pity, all that remains is a single voice speaking of his life, the remarkable story is unveiled.

DHW Mildon’s script for Smoke And Mirrors is far from cosy, it emphasises the required sense of being different to see the job through, of embracing who you are and defy the darkness that would see people like yourself eradicated by fanatics on all political sides. For Major Denis Rake, the conversations of life are colourful, they are dynamic, they are in the shadows but flamboyant and startling, and as he prepares for a show inside the Flamingo Club in Soho he enlightens a young stage hand of the truth of war behind secrets, ones that served him well as he became a highly decorated openly gay man in the throes of post war life.

There are few actors that can capture such an emotional, but stoic response to life’s turns and personal damages, and Rupert Everett is quite possibly the finest to command such a performance; and he achieves a realism of truth with ease and poise, one tempered with the agony of knowledge that came from the man he portrays, of being erased from public consciousness.

Smoke and Mirrors is a play of passion for memory, imploring that in our current age we take a step back from elevating the banal and remember those to whom we owe so much, even if we cannot place their name; we must relearn our dedication to history.

Ian D. Hall