Anyone who rolls their eyes at the mention of the term “multi-hyphenate” would do well to acquaint themselves with the work of Jeremy O. Harris. This is a man who, at the age of 34, has a list of accomplishments so long I almost need to resort to bullet points to list them all, but, paucis verbis: he’s written and produced an A24 hit in the form of Zola; modeled in a Gus van Sant-directed short for Gucci; interviewed Tilda Swinton (from bed) for British Vogue; made a cameo in Emily in Paris; inked a first-look deal and established an emerging writer fund with HBO; consulted on Euphoria; released a 20-piece Ssense capsule collection inspired by the novels of Zora Neale Hurston and the photos of Tyler Mitchell; and—most famously—received a record-breaking 12 Tony nominations for his seminal Slave Play, written during his first year at the Yale School of Drama. To wit: he’s a Renaissance man, albeit one who wears Raf Simons rather than ruffs.
Now, Harris is bringing Slave Play to the West End following its Broadway debut in 2019, announcing the news via Instagram with a melon-centric clip that has shades of Stephanie Sarley to it. For those who somehow missed the drama’s star-spangled reviews in virtually every media outlet with “New York” in the title, Slave Play turns viewers into voyeurs as three interracial couples undergo “Antebellum Sexual Performance Therapy,” immersing the audience in a crucible of erotic dysfunction and historical trauma that’s defiantly provocative in both senses of the word. Thus far, Harris has remained schtum on who will be wielding cantaloupes and dildos as members of his UK cast, but safe to say every theatrical agent in London is currently composing an ingratiating email to the playwright.
Harris has, in fact, staged a play in London before, although not in the West End; his poignant, shimmering Daddy opened at the Almeida in 2022 after more than two years of delays, marking his first production outside the US. A clever melodrama, Daddy dug its nails into the pressure points of a relationship between billionaire collector Andre (Claes Bang) and Black artist Franklin (Terique Jarrett)—their kink-filled affair playing out against the backdrop of the former’s Basquiat-strewn Bel-Air mansion, complete with a Hockney-inspired pool, from whose turquoise depths a gospel choir periodically emerged, while the soundtrack made heartbreaking use of George Michael’s “Father Figure.”
“Personally, I’ve been around too many people who still seem to want to ignore the ways in which [racial dynamics] have a dramatic and drastic effect on the lives of Americans, Britons, and everyone affected by the Atlantic slave trade,” Harris told Vogue when asked about the centrality of race within his oeuvre ahead of Daddy’s premiere. “Those are very present in my mind because I grew up in the South—it’s the Toni Morrison or Faulkner thing. I’m never gonna not be a Southern writer who’s exploring what it means to have been a Southerner that has moved up; moved to different places; become a global citizen.” A global citizen—and a global talent.