A Wee Gay Love Story
- Tony Day
- 15 hours ago
- 5 min read
Review of The Upside Down House* by Ciaran Haggerty
Last night, we made our way to the MAC in Belfast to see *The Upside Down House*, a new play written by Ciaran Haggerty. I’d heard a few whispers within the community about it, quiet conversations at events, little mentions online, the kind that make you curious without really knowing what to expect.
So I went in intrigued, wondering whether this was another nostalgic coming-of-age piece or something that might dig a bit deeper. What I found was a heartfelt, funny, and deeply affecting story that managed to capture both the innocence of first love and the painful weight of regret that comes from denying who you are.
At its heart, *The Upside Down House* is a story about first love, that messy, exhilarating, awkward, and unforgettable kind of love that shapes you long after it’s gone. The two central roles are played by **Shaun Blaney** as “Older” and **Colm McCready** as his 17-year-old first love.
Their performances are superbly layered, perfectly complementing each other as the story flicks between past and present. Before the imminent demolition of the house that once belonged to his teenage sweetheart’s granny, he returns a man now settled into adulthood but still haunted by the ghosts of his youth. It’s there, amid the fading wallpaper and dust of memory, that he’s confronted by the past he’s long tried to suppress.
The title itself, *The Upside Down House*, is loaded with meaning. On one level, it’s a literal description, the kind of Northern Irish house we all remember from big housing estates, where the front door and bedrooms sit on the ground floor, the living room’s upstairs, and the kitchen and bathroom perch halfway up those wee stairs at the back.
On another level, it becomes a metaphor for how life can feel turned upside down, especially for a young gay man navigating feelings that don’t fit the expectations of his world. That small, domestic image grounds the play in something distinctly local and recognisable. We can all picture that house, and that familiarity makes the story’s emotional punch land even harder.
Through a series of beautifully crafted flashbacks, we’re taken back to the summers of adolescence, the shy smiles, the hidden glances, the thrill of a first kiss. We see the boys’ friendship blossom into something more, tentative but electric. There’s Belfast humour that bursts naturally through the dialogue, grounding the story in a sense of place. At one point, we’re treated to the memory of a fumbled first sexual encounter, told with both tenderness and wit.
There’s another scene set in Collin Glen Forest, where that first declaration of love, “I love you”, hangs in the air, met with silence. It’s a silence that echoes through Older’s life, an unfinished sentence that haunts him decades later.
As Older revisits these moments, he’s forced to confront his younger self, the choices he made, the things he couldn’t say, the love he couldn’t return. The play doesn’t shy away from showing how internalised homophobia can fracture a person’s sense of self. We see how shame, inherited from a society that taught men to hide their feelings, can linger long after the world around them has changed. Older’s journey isn’t just about revisiting a lost love — it’s about reconciliation with himself. It’s about finally giving voice to the boy he once was, the one he left behind.
What’s remarkable about *The Upside Down House* is how deftly it balances humour and heartbreak. One moment you’re laughing out loud at a bit of sharp Northern wit, and the next you’re sitting in silence, feeling that ache of recognition in your chest. That’s largely down to the skill of Blaney and McCready, who handle the shifts in tone with absolute precision. Their chemistry feels effortless, natural, even in the most emotionally charged scenes. Blaney, as the older version of the protagonist, brings a quiet intensity and vulnerability that anchors the piece. McCready captures the youthful energy and idealism of first love perfectly — that headlong, all-or-nothing way of feeling that only teenagers seem capable of.
The staging is simple but effective, allowing the performances and dialogue to take centre stage. The MAC’s Upstairs Theatre, an intimate space, feels tailor-made for a story like this. You’re close enough to see every flicker of emotion cross the actors’ faces. Projected “ghostly” memories flicker in and out of view throughout the performance, moments from the past appearing like half-remembered dreams, a clever device that blurs the boundary between memory and reality. It’s understated, never gimmicky, and it adds a haunting beauty to the storytelling.
What struck me most was how universal the emotions felt, even while the story was rooted so firmly in a very specific Northern Irish setting. You don’t need to have grown up in Belfast to understand what it means to hide part of yourself or to carry the weight of “what if?” for years.
But for those of us who did, who know those “upside down houses” and those tight-knit estates where everyone knew everyone else’s business, the play hits even closer to home.
There’s something powerful about seeing our stories, queer Northern Irish stories, told on stage with such honesty, humour, and compassion.
Haggerty’s writing captures that distinctly Belfast blend of warmth and melancholy. The dialogue is authentic without ever slipping into caricature, and the pacing keeps the audience fully engaged from start to finish. The play’s emotional resonance sneaks up on you. By the end, as Older comes to terms with what he lost and what he’s learned, there’s a sense of quiet catharsis. It’s not a grand, sweeping resolution, more a gentle acceptance. Sometimes healing doesn’t come in big, dramatic moments. Sometimes it’s just finally saying aloud what you couldn’t say before.
*The Upside Down House* is, in many ways, a love letter, to first love, to youth, to the queer community, and to the people we once were. It’s also a reminder of how far we’ve come and how much courage it takes to live truthfully. It’s funny, moving, and beautifully observed, resonating deeply with anyone who’s ever looked back on their past and wished they’d been braver.
If you get the chance, go see it. The MAC’s Upstairs Theatre provides the perfect setting for this intimate and emotional production, close enough to feel part of the story, yet distant enough to see your own reflections in it. With outstanding performances, clever staging, and writing that feels both personal and universal, *The Upside Down House* is one of those rare pieces of theatre that stays with you long after the lights go down.
In short, it’s a wee gay love story but it’s also so much more. It’s a story about memory, regret, forgiveness, and the power of finally facing the truth. Ciaran Haggerty has crafted something truly special here.
Review by Tony Day
Photography by Carrie Davenport
Get your tickets now you won’t regret it.
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