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Synopsis
On a smoke-choked London rooftop, three young, impeccably pink-clad men pass the time with cigarettes and brittle optimism while a new fascist regime cages others below and inexplicably spares them above. Convinced they are being preserved for their “usefulness” and cultural sparkle, Kemper, Logan, and Merrick rationalize their relative comfort even as the air grows hotter and the moral cost of their survival becomes harder to ignore. When Vince, an older outsider misplaced by a clerical error, joins them with a book and a blunt awareness of reality, their self-congratulatory logic begins to unravel. As smoke thickens and the truth becomes unavoidable, the playlet exposes the peril of complacency, the seduction of perceived exceptionalism, and the illusion that anyone can remain untouched while the world burns.
Inspiration Set
Playwright Note
The smoke is thick, the outfits are pink, and the confidence is intoxicating. What interested me was not simply the threat below, but the certainty above – the belief that proximity to power equals protection, that polish equals leverage, that being deemed “useful” by a regime is the same as being safe from it.
Within LGBTQ communities, we are often told – sometimes gently, sometimes with condescension – that if certain factions would simply fall in line, adopt the right tone, prioritize the right optics, vote the right way, protest the right way, or quiet down at the right time, survival would be guaranteed. That someone, somewhere among us, has figured out the strategy. That some of us are steering, and the rest would do well to follow.
This play pokes at that idea.
It teases the vanity that can creep into activism. It ribs the generational and ideological divides that masquerade as moral superiority. It laughs at the notion that cultural sparkle can negotiate with fire. And it questions the seductive lie that marginal safety for a few equals meaningful safety for all.
The rooftop boys believe they have leverage. They believe they are being spared for a reason. They believe their brand of queerness – marketable, influential, well-lit – offers them a buffer. The humor lives in their certainty. The danger lives there too.
If the play has a target, it is not any one identity within the LGBTQ umbrella, but the fragile hierarchies we build among ourselves: respectable versus radical, pragmatic versus passionate, electable versus expendable. The misguided fantasy that proximity to power confers power. That we can bargain individually with systems designed to consume collectively.
This is a satire, yes. A bit of a rooftop roast. But beneath the banter is a simple, uncomfortable question: When the smoke rises, who exactly do we think is immune?
Within LGBTQ communities, we are often told – sometimes gently, sometimes with condescension – that if certain factions would simply fall in line, adopt the right tone, prioritize the right optics, vote the right way, protest the right way, or quiet down at the right time, survival would be guaranteed. That someone, somewhere among us, has figured out the strategy. That some of us are steering, and the rest would do well to follow.
This play pokes at that idea.
It teases the vanity that can creep into activism. It ribs the generational and ideological divides that masquerade as moral superiority. It laughs at the notion that cultural sparkle can negotiate with fire. And it questions the seductive lie that marginal safety for a few equals meaningful safety for all.
The rooftop boys believe they have leverage. They believe they are being spared for a reason. They believe their brand of queerness – marketable, influential, well-lit – offers them a buffer. The humor lives in their certainty. The danger lives there too.
If the play has a target, it is not any one identity within the LGBTQ umbrella, but the fragile hierarchies we build among ourselves: respectable versus radical, pragmatic versus passionate, electable versus expendable. The misguided fantasy that proximity to power confers power. That we can bargain individually with systems designed to consume collectively.
This is a satire, yes. A bit of a rooftop roast. But beneath the banter is a simple, uncomfortable question: When the smoke rises, who exactly do we think is immune?
Production History
None to date.
Development History
None to date.
Awards/Recognition
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Reviews/Recommendations
"If you read this play(let) carefully, Houk's characters will give you the necessary clues about what's actually going on--although at least three of the young men don't themselves know. But even so, you may not be fully prepared for the devastating last lines. I am a huge fan of Houk's work, and this play ranks among his best. There are so many lines to savor. Read it, laugh, and weep."
"Everybody is useful in their own way. Or maybe a more cynical way to look at it is, everybody gets used whether they like it or not. In this dark, politically charged dystopia, all the characters here don't seem to really realize what their role is in society. All they know is, they just want a smoke. As in real life, we don't always know how we are being used by others to fulfill an agenda. This is sadly smart and a bit of an eye opener from Craig Houk."
"A dystopian portrait of slowly boiling frogs, semi-content in their little pot. As for what's going on in the world outside, Craig Houk lets us see but through a glass darkly; we glean just enough to know it's bad, and that worse is yet to come. A claustrophobic and devastating indictment of complacency in the face of ruin."
"This is Craig Houk at his darkest, bleakest, hopeless, most dystopian. As the world falls apart, Houk nimbly, and with terrifying precision, paints a vivid picture of humanity with blinders on, quickly becoming like late nineteenth century author William T. Stead, who reportedly went down with the Titanic calmly reading a book in the first class smoking room while all hell was breaking loose around him. A hard, chilling, but necessary read."
"This play paints a very dystopian but intriguing image of the world falling apart while a group of young men act as if nothing is happening. Not until a much older man comes in and begins to open their eyes. This play is a very dark but important piece that will make you think of the world in a different way."
"With a nod or two to Samuel Beckett and Eugene Ionesco, Craig Houk's "Smoking Fags on a Rooftop" hits all the right notes of absurdist comedy and dystopian parable. The character reading a book as doomsday looms in the distance is the real kick of this play. Funny, heartbreaking . . . relevent!"
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REMINDER: No presentation or production of SMOKING FAGS ON A ROOFTOP, in whole or in part, is allowed unless permission is granted by the playwright or his designated agents.