Opening with a beautiful dance sequence that takes a ghastly turn to reveal the news of a horrifying homophobic attack, Kumar Muniandy’s solo play Second Class Queer is a raw exploration of identity through the lens of race, sexuality, and post-colonialism.

Muniandy portrays Krishna, a queer Indian Malaysian man who is living in Berlin, where he attends a gay speed dating event. This event provides the framework for the majority of the 60-minute play as we watch Krishna chat with five different men, each conversation slowly revealing Krishna’s buried trauma and guilt over his role in his mother’s death.
It’s a clever structural device that lends itself to some interesting dialogue and light humour — delivered with plenty of charm by Muniandy — but many of the conversations feel more like a debate than a believable potential flirtation. While several of the men are certainly repugnant, expressing antiquated ideas about race, ethnicity, and sexuality, I was hoping to learn more about how Krishna’s unique relationship with his identity filters through to his attitudes towards dating.
The most engaging glimpses into Krishna’s psyche emerge within his final two conversations, with a black nurse and a white try-hard yogi, respectively. We learn the tragic reason why he is so wracked with guilty feelings about his mother, and he finally begins to make peace through a touching coming out monologue he delivers to her spirit.
Muniandy also deploys some thought-provoking moments of video throughout the piece, although some make more of an impact than others. While the opening sequence is hauntingly poignant, the reenacted scene that accompanies his final monologue unfortunately distracts from the emotions within the words he speaks, rather than enhancing their impact.
Second Class Queer has several striking moments, and Kumar Muniandy brings a warm vulnerability to his performance. A few tweaks to the script could transform this interesting look at the multifaceted nature of identity into a truly touching play.
Second Class Queer runs until 1st August at Theatro Technis, with tickets available at https://www.theatrotechnis.com/.
Reviewer: Olivia Cox
Reviewed: 30th July 2025
North West End UK Rating: