MARK Gatiss plays the central character Harold in a new version of The Boys in the Band. The play, by Mart Crowley, opened on Broadway in 1968 and shocked mainstream audiences. Same-sex sexual activity was only legalised in New York – where the play is set – in 1980, and the The Boys In The Band’s depiction of nine gay men enjoying a birthday party in an urban flat was the kind of scene that had not been witnessed before in theatre.

As the night wears on, Gatiss’s character Harold grows increasingly dispirited about his ageing and position in life. Harold’s relationship with Michael, who is played by Gatiss’s husband Ian Hallard, is a spiky one, which becomes more apparent the longer the play goes on.

Gatiss is perhaps best known for his writing roles on popular television programmes Doctor Who and Sherlock. He speaks to EDWIN GILSON about the continued relevance of The Boys In The Band and acting with his husband.

You’re in London currently, the first time the play has appeared in the captial for 18 years. Did the reaction to the production reflect a certain level of anticipation around it?

It’s a combination of people knowing its controversial reputation – it feels like there is almost something forbidden about it – and people who have shamefully never heard of it. Sometimes you talk to people afterwards, gay men, who say the show changed lives when it first came out. There was one man who said he was too young to see it but he bought the script and read it under the bedsheets.

It is well documented how shocking and revolutionary the play was in its original run – how does that translate to the modern age where nine gay men sitting in a room together isn’t such a big deal?

That’s the thing, I think it’s every bit as relevant now as it was then. Some of the reviews seem to have decided that it is dated, but I genuinely think they just don’t know. When I read the script I was shocked by how many of the themes seem to be still with us. There are obvious levels of mental health problems in gay men, addiction issues, self-loathing. That stuff is everywhere at the moment. Some people who come and see it think it’s a new play. One man said: “I was at that party last week.”

The play’s writer Mart Crowley said the self-deprecating humour was “born out a low self-esteem from a sense of what the times told you about yourself”. Is that a big factor in the play, gay men viewing themselves through the eyes of others?

Absolutely, it’s very much about how society portrays these particular people. For me, though, it was revolutionary because it was the first of its kind. Now, it’s allowed to be what it is – a very good play. It doesn’t have to bear the weight of every gay play. That’s why there was a backlash early on. People were saying “I’m not like” the characters in the play. Well no, we’re not saying everybody is, we’re saying this is just this particular story.

You mentioned in another interview that the play had “come in and out of fashion” over the years. Can you identify these trends more closely?

It was a smash hit when the play first came out. When they were shooting the film version, the studio was around the corner from where Stonewall happened. There was a growing gay rights movement, and some people looked at this play as being a negative portrayal. Once the Aids crisis happened it was all about trying to be extremely positive about gay life. These are the factors that have meant the play has gone in and out of fashion.

And the threat of being raided by the police was everpresent at that time, too.

It’s a joke in the play – Emory knocks on the door and says “this is a raid”. There’s something about the way in which these men open up in private which means that they are family. It’s also rather unhealthy, because being stuck in this place has a hothouse feel to it.

Did you do much research into Mart Crowley’s life and sexuality?

I did, yes – Mart has had an extraordinary life. He was over for the first two weeks of previews, and has been completely involved throughout. It’s wonderful to have somebody there saying [in American accent] “cut that, it doesn’t work”. It’s like having Shakespeare on the end of the phone. The character Michael is him. He was a bad drunk, although he’s been on the wagon for many years now.

Where does Harold’s dissatisfaction in life come from?

Well, as he says, “I’m a 42-year-old Jew fairy”. As far as he’s concerned he’s got all the problems. It’s self-loathing. It’s a fantastic part to play. Although he’s very sarcastic and cutting, it comes from a place of warmth. Michael is the problem. I think most of these characters’ nights are like this one night seen in the play, but this is the evening it goes too far. But even then, my last line is “will you call me tomorrow?” There is a sense that this whole thing will happen again tomorrow. It’s a terrible game that people are trapped in – it’s a certain kind of hell that people do over and over.

Given how well you know Ian, it must have been great fun to play out the spiky dynamic between your two characters?

It’s delightful, I’m having a lot of fun. One of the lovely things about doing the play with your partner is you can help each other. We go through this process of saying “don’t tell me, don’t tell me”, but if you’re both operating in close quarters that becomes a mutual thing and it can be helpful.

Do you get in certain headspaces where you prefer theatre acting, or television work, or radio – does it vary depending on your mood?

I just like the variety, it’s great to have lots of stuff going on. I was filming Sherlock for four months before this. That’s great, but it’s nice to have that contact with the audience. When the play is really cooking you sense the audience can really feel the atmosphere.

You mention Sherlock – did you ever have any reservations about reviving such a popular character?

Not at all. It seemed to us that the thing that had been lost over the years was getting back to the essence of the two main characters. They don’t know they are Victorian, they’re just people. For all that we love the Victorian trappings like the fog and council houses, it seemed that the focus on the characters had been lost. It’s like an odd flat-share. Anyone who had any problem seemed to forget about it within five minutes of watching.

The Boys In The Band Theatre Royal Brighton, New Road, Tuesday, Nov 8 to Saturday, Nov 12, 7.45pm (2.30pm matinee on Weds and Sat), from £18.90, 08448 717650