Other than an outdoor performance by the RSC last summer I haven’t been to a theatre and sat in an audience to see people perform since the pandemic started. The last show I saw indoors was Stewart Lee in Brighton on his “Snowflake/Tornado” tour back in the heady days of February 2020 when news that a man in Brighton had tested positive for the new novel coronavirus decimating Wuhan gave the trip a fun level of newsworthiness rather than any sense of peril. I even joked to my form at the time that I would try to catch the virus while I was down there so we could get a few extra days of holiday because they’d closed some of the schools down there. Hilarious times.

Since the pandemic the theatre I’ve enjoyed has been through a screen. Livestreams of plays, gigs and standup. But my sister decided to force me out of my comfort zone for my birthday and get me tickets to come see Back to the Future: The Musical in London. If not now, then when? And it would mean having us come up to London for the day too, which would allow us to visit, so it was win/win.

Before the tickets were gifted to me, I had heard there was a Back to the Future musical, but had no intention of seeing it. Many shows have been made off the back of old movies and I’ve never been interested in the pointless cash-in of it all. But my sister knows me well. Back to the Future is not just any movie, it’s one of my favourite movies. And of all the musicals-based-off-old-films genre, it was the one production that had at least piqued my interest before I dismissed it offhand. The ticket was the perfect choice - something I would really enjoy, but at a time of omicron and the ever-present threat of a positive test and necessary self-isolation, something I wouldn’t be too mad about if I ended up having to miss it or leave the theatre in a full-blown panic attack after not being around so many humans indoors for nearly two years. It was compelling enough to make the effort to go, but not so compelling that something would be “ruined” if it ended up a miserable experience. And once the toe is dipped back into the water of live entertainment following the covid-enforced hiatus, it will make going for a full swim easier further on down the road. My wife has already picked out some awesome shows coming up in the new theatre season…not to mention the Bad Religion tickets that were her own birthday present for me.

So, with expectations low, and battling a horrible cold which repeated lateral flow tests assure me is not covid, we journeyed down to London to go back to 1985.

Long story short - it was fantastic. It took the movie and transformed it wonderfully to the stage, with Roger Bart’s Doc Brown a particularly amazing feat as he managed to both make the role entirely his own whilst simultaneously channelling everything necessary to inhabit the original Christopher Lloyd character. With minor changes from the original movie to either make staging easier (losing nothing vital) or avoid unnecessary racial stereotyping, as well as songs which enabled further social commentary on 1955 America or the exploration and heightening of key characters’ internal lives, we had a blast. And the special effects - and the DeLorean! - were mind-blowing.

It wasn’t even ruined by the weirdness of a sudden pause after a big time-travelling number, an awkward silence, harsh whispering from backstage, all the lights going out on stage and the curtain coming down for a completely unexplained 15 minute pause in proceedings (we assume someone was taken ill or some technical glitch needed fixing).

Sure, it felt insane to be crowded by so many people in hot, close quarters after the relative hermitude of the last two years (many without masks), but it also felt amazing to be back in a theatre again seeing people be creative and having a great time. And getting to see my sister, her partner and my little niece again afterwards for a belated birthday meal from awesome vegan eatery, Mildreds, was a great way to put my 40th birthday celebrations to an end.

That said, at 40 I am now officially “too old for this shit” when it comes to late night driving. Deciding we would be happier to wake up in our own beds on Sunday than spend the night in London, we boldly told my sister we would head home whatever time things wrapped up - no rush. Leaving her flat around quarter to eleven, we were already regretting the decision as we left the city and found ourselves on the dimly lit motorway just before midnight. Trying to keep ourselves awake, we blared the music of the sadly now late, great, Meat Loaf, but even that didn’t do the trick. Luckily, we decided to pull over for some coffee. Doing so meant we narrowly avoided a terrible crash on the M40. While we ended up sat in traffic for an hour watching as emergency vehicles arrived and cleared up the carnage, caffeinated and alert, the rest of the drive home was a stark reminder that accidents like that can occur when sleepy idiots take the wheel of a speeding motor vehicle in the early hours of the morning. Next time, we’ll take up the offer of a room for the night and not try to be heroes!