REVIEW: This Bitter Earth — A Poignant Story of Love and Politics Under Billy Porter’s Vision

In his UK stage directorial debut, Billy Porter brings an assured, deeply personal touch to This Bitter Earth, now running at Soho Theatre. Written by Harrison David Rivers, the two-hander play is set during the early 2010s—a time defined by the rise of Black Lives Matter, heightened racial tension, and cultural reckoning. Yet at its core, this is not only a political story; it’s a deeply human, intimate portrayal of love stretched across racial and ideological divides.

The play centres on Jesse (Omari Douglas), a Black playwright retreating inward from the noise of protest, and Neil (Alexander Lincoln), his white activist lover, who believes fiercely in taking to the streets. Their differences are not caricatures but layered with nuance—brought to life with striking chemistry by both actors. Douglas, best known for It’s A Sin and Cabaret, embodies Jesse with a wounded wit and guarded vulnerability. Lincoln, fresh from indie acclaim in In From the Side, delivers a Neil who is passionate but often blind to the full weight of Jesse’s lived experience.

Porter’s direction is careful yet bold. Known for his fierce authenticity and unapologetically queer artistry, he directs with a sure hand, allowing silences to speak as loudly as dialogue. During the rehearsal run, Porter remarked that what drew him to the play was “its honesty—it doesn’t give easy answers. These two men love each other, but love alone doesn’t erase difference.” In another interview, he shared that he felt compelled to direct this piece because “we’re still asking the same questions about race, love, and allyship that we were a decade ago. This play sits right in that discomfort—and asks you to stay there.”

Billy Porter said: “Harrison David Rivers has written a searingly poignant and necessary play about love and loss through the lens of the fraying American Democratic experiment. Simple. Complex. Direct and filled with compassion all at once. I’m thrilled to be a part of bringing this very special piece to life.”

The staging is minimalist—mostly taking place in the couple’s shared home—but the emotional terrain is vast. With just a few props and lighting shifts, the production creates a sense of domestic intimacy while threading in the outside world: marches, police brutality, news headlines. These broader themes never overwhelm the central relationship. Instead, they haunt it, pressing in at the edges, asking the audience: when one partner’s survival is political, what does love look like?

Rivers’ writing is sharp, often funny, and always intelligent. There’s a welcome levity in the banter between Jesse and Neil, but it’s balanced by moments of aching tension. In one exchange, Neil implores Jesse to join him at a protest, and Jesse fires back, “You want me to be your proof. That you’re not part of the problem.” Lines like this hit home, not because they’re didactic, but because they’re true to character—earned through honest conflict.

The title, This Bitter Earth, doesn’t need much explanation in today’s climate. With wars raging across the globe, fractured politics, and divisions deepening across communities, this play feels heartbreakingly relevant. It’s a reminder of how personal the political is—and how fragile love can be when the world outside your door is on fire.

Elevation of this production is its authenticity. With an entirely LGBTQ+ creative team,.

By the end, you’re not offered a tidy resolution. Instead, you’re asked to sit with the discomfort, and to consider your own place in the fight—or on the sidelines.

Final verdict:
This Bitter Earth is a mirror, a provocation, and a love letter to complexity. Under Billy Porter’s direction, it becomes a visceral, necessary piece of theatre—at once tender, brutal, and unforgettable, and funny because real life has humour.