Бывший фанат сериала Glee создал мюзикл о надежде и находит свой голос на фестивале в Дублине

A Glee-obsessed teenager at an all-boys school, Conor Burke found refuge in music while navigating bullying, the closet, and a life far less colourful than his favourite TV show... Conor introduces his joyful new musical about hope, resilience, and finding your voice - even when the world begs you to stop singing - coming to this year's Dublin Fringe Festival. There is a moment in the fourth episode of the juggernaut television show Glee, when Kurt Hummel, the effeminate and theatrical boy soprano, comes out of the closet to his blue-collar, pragmatic, ultra-masculine father. It is a tense moment for the young boy, who, for all intents and purposes, had barely even acknowledged his identity to himself. A television show daring to address a relatively taboo topic such as teenage homosexuality on network television in 2009 was daring - and the characters involved, as well as the audience watching, knew it. "I know. I've known since you were three. All you wanted for your birthday was a pair of sensible heels." The tension was immediately broken, but the tears still came - Chris Colfer and Mike O’Malley, in their performances as Kurt and Burt respectfully, commanded the screen with their powerful performances, and it was this point, so early into the series, that the world started to fall in love with this rag-tag bunch of misfits. I was one of them - and I sat at home watching that moment play out on screen with my parents, staring at them in my peripheral vision. I was 14 years old. I was terrified. And I wanted to know, so desperately, how they felt about the concept of having a gay teenager as a son. As the series continued, I became totally besotted by almost every element of it. It was bitingly funny, but profoundly moving. It was primary colour, yes - but much like the underdog glee-club members the show centred on, it was much smarter than people gave it credit for. It was my generation's Top of the Pops - and the satire was so razor-sharp, I genuinely believe it went over a lot of people’s heads. It's the show I needed to see as a queer teenager, and it’s the show I need to make as a queer adult. Years later, in the midst of the pandemic, I decided to set up a podcast centred around the show. The concept was simple: each week I would be joined by a different guest to recap an episode. Some were uber fans (Gleeks), others had never seen a frame of it - but everyone had something to say. Even now, eleven years after the show ended, it still inspires discourse. My show, Gleek of the Week, is being staged this year as part of the Dublin Fringe Festival. It isn’t ostensibly a show about Glee - rather, it uses Glee as a conduit to celebrate the art that brings us comfort, offers us a helping hand, and dares us to hope for a better life. It’s about looking back and acknowledging the change that art can make to us. Being (kind of) a show about Glee, it’s also a musical - with original music and lyrics by the wonderful Shauna Carrick. But I’m not a singer - and that’s the point. The show is not about the would-be Broadway performer - it’s more concerned with the pitchy teenager who can’t stop (attempting to) riff. It’s the show I needed to see as a queer teenager, and it’s the show I need to make as a queer adult. In a world where joy (and dare I say - glee,) is worth next to nothing in cultural capital, it dares to ask why - and ponders aloud as to whether or not we, as a society, can go back to it. Fundamentally, Gleek of the Week acknowledges that art often acts as the only viable escape for many people during times of hardship - even when that art revolves around an all-singing, all-dancing glee club. As they say... Don’t stop believin’! Gleek Of The Week runs from 8–12 September, with a preview on the 7th, as part of this year's Dublin Fringe Festival - find out more here