Brighton Fringe 2025
Jonathan McLean Touching it Makes Baby Jesus Cry: The Musical
Aye Aye Productions and Half a Camel
Genre: Cabaret, Character Stand up, Contemporary, Fringe Theatre, Historical, LGBTQ+ Theatre, LGBTQIA+, Live Music, Musical Theatre, Neurodiverse, New Writing, Short Plays, Theatre
Venue: The Caxton Arms, Brighton
Festival: Brighton Fringe
Low Down
“God works in mysterious gays” suggests Jonathan McLean, writer and actor in their Touching it Makes Baby Jesus Cry: The Musical, playing at The Caxton Arms once more, on its second appearance Friday May 30th at 20.00.
This can sing all the way to Edinburgh: just stopping off to be publicly burned, along with Jonathan McLean, in the Vatican itself.
Review
“God works in mysterious gays” suggests Jonathan McLean, writer and actor in their Touching it Makes Baby Jesus Cry: The Musical, playing at The Caxton Arms once more, on its third, final appearance Friday May 30th at 20.00.
This is hyperbolic masturbation. Literally. Oh. There’s a subtitle: A Unique Comedy Musical by an Autistic Queer Apostate. Does that help? No, it’s time to revert to time-traveling Bishop Eutuchianus and his ambition to be the next Pope dependant on the cure of souls. So hoiking a young pewling Jonathan caught masturbating by their mother, on a tour of new hells and why the Bible has warned you, you wanking Catholic you. You’re enough to make baby Jesus cry: who must be a very sophisticated baby. Let’s not go there.
There’s some help, as we’re confronted by a pulpit emblazoned with Hieronymous Bosch paintings and a gallimaufry of rapid undressing as McLean indulges in quick disrobing of their Bishop’s white cassock and rolls on the floor in paradise and a thong.
Throughout its 68 minutes McLean proves themselves master of one-liners, audience participation and remarkable verification skills. The ideas fleet by almost too quick to absorb, and I’m fast. Perhaps McLean’s normally precise voice can point up the verse-ends. More, McLean wields a mean tenor and guitar (they’re a multi-instrumentalist), and indulges in three songs. The first of these frigs around the Sin of Onan (a colourful tale of God smoting two brothers dead, the latter for Ona’s sin). Where “Oh no Onan” is subjected not just to a witty refrain but a falsetto musical one too. It’s the most original of the three songs on offer and shows McLean has an original song-writing voice.
Their other talent, playing the audience in participation games goes one further: a smattering of volunteers are given bubble-blowing duties every time McLean time-travels, to demonstrate the ways of God to a little wanker. At other times people are asked to intone a line at a crucial point. No spoilers.
There’s much scudding about through time, bubbles that break everywhere, those three songs and a gallimaufry of clothing. There’s even a trip to meet old Adam, and his obsession with toads. But wait for the riposte.
Indeed for three-quarters of its time this show demonstrates a superbly confident talent, dispatched by someone who looks as if they’ve played the Cambridge Footlights, with a cut-glass RP and demeanour to match. It makes McLean’s “fall” that much more delicious, and their picaresque romp through the centuries that much more telling. Clearly stung by what they find in Leviticus, McLean is out to demolish its nostrums by pointing up the absurdities and hellfire in store for just about everyone who isn’t a misogynist homophobic psychopathic bigot. But hey it takes all sorts to unmake a world.
“I’m a millennial. We’re guilty about everything” McLean claims hilariously, and he has a point, gyrating round the pulpit like a demented pelican. Or indeed the “soft, self-wounding pelican” of Richard Crashaw’s poem. There’s something of that still in McLean, writhe as they will.
Though it’s Gen Z who are now flocking back to the Catholic Church in particular in the wake of Pope Francis (interesting to see how they react to the new more reactionary and cautious American, the ending Conclave tried avoiding). Apparently church and religious worship has increased in a few years in this age group from 4 to 16% according to the Sensemaker/Observer podcast today (serendipitously dipped into hours before the show). It’s to them perhaps McLean might address themselves. They have need of McLean. Despite much of Leviticus being quietly dropped by the Papacy, it always fights back. We can laugh with McLean but they know it’s a continual battle.
The essential structure around three songs and continual shuttle need pointing up just a little more. The production might pause for breath and let the brilliant verses land. The last few minutes drop energy, but this can easily be addressed before the next outing, which will be when you see it. McLean has already dropped material and a couple of songs. They need just to shape their arc, retain the best of their jokes (perhaps even restore a song and review what’s jettisoned) and this can sing all the way to Edinburgh: just stopping off to be publicly burned, along with McLean, in the Vatican itself.
