With a career spanning from Cats at 16 to EastEnders and beyond, John Partridge has never shied away from roles that challenge and inspire him.
Now, he steps into the shoes of William “Billy” Haines in The Code at Southwark Playhouse a play that shines a light on a forgotten queer icon of Hollywood’s golden era.
We sat down with John to talk about what drew him to the role, the enduring relevance of Billy’s story, and the power of queer visibility in art today.
Congratulations on your role as Billy Hains in The Code at the Southwark Playhouse. Can you tell me what drew you to the role and what the play is about?
When Chris Renshaw asked me to take on this role, I was actually stepping back from acting because I’m about to make a big life shift, I’m emigrating to Canada next year. I wasn’t taking on work, but he sent me the script about William Haines, and I knew nothing about him. I’m ashamed to say he’s a kind of forgotten LGBTQIA hero.
I opened the script, and in the very first scene Billy talks about being disillusioned with Hollywood, and about moving with his lover of 24 years to start a new life on an apple farm. That really resonated with me personally, because I’m on the cusp of a new chapter myself, and also because as a 50-year-old gay man, there just aren’t that many stories written for us.
The play asks: What are you prepared to concede or conceal for a chance at stardom? It’s about identity, authenticity, and the price of living truthfully.
In 1930, Billy Haines was the top box-office star at MGM. By 1933, he was what we’d now call—the first victim of cancel culture. His “crime” was being gay. Others at the time Novarro, Valentino, Cary Grant chose to give up their lovers to save their contracts. Billy didn’t. He refused. He lived openly with Jimmy Shields for five decades until his death in 1975, after which Jimmy tragically took his own life.
Plays like this matter. It’s a queer story, told by a queer playwright, with a queer director and queer actors. Visibility in art is just as important as visibility in the world.
The play deals with “image being everything” and identity being carefully curated. In what ways do you find that still resonates with today’s culture especially in acting / performance / celebrity?
Sadly, it resonates far too much. Young queer artists, musicians, actors are still encouraged to withhold their sexuality out of fear it might hurt their careers. That’s a fact.
And when you do hide it, you risk being outed later, which then becomes some sort of “scandal” when really, you were just trying to live your life.
When I was young, I never thought twice about being honest about who I was. But as I’ve aged, I’ve come to understand why people hide it: because homophobia in the arts is very real. Less so in theatre, but in film and television it’s absolutely still there.
What was it like working with Tony nominee Christopher Renshaw, were there any words that he said help you get into the character?
Chris directed me in Taboo years ago, so we’ve known each other for over 20 years maybe closer to 25 now and that history brings such trust into the rehearsal room.
He’s brilliant. He directs with these big-picture overviews rather than micromanaging. He’ll say something as simple as, “Today is a special day,” and it lands in such a powerful way because it forces you to think about the stakes of the moment, the energy you bring into the space, and what it means for the audience watching.
That kind of direction makes you look at the whole piece differently. Every line, every pause, every glance suddenly has weight. He doesn’t just shape the actors he shapes the atmosphere of the play. And when you’re working on material as layered and emotionally charged as The Code, having a director like Chris, who trusts you to bring your instincts but guides you with clarity, is invaluable.
He also knows me as a performer inside out. He knows my strengths, but also where he can push me further. That makes rehearsals exciting because you’re not just repeating old habits you’re being challenged to grow. It’s rare to have that kind of collaboration, and it’s one of the reasons this production feels so special.
How do you and Tracie as actors balance the power / intensity in scenes together? What have you learn from her as your co-star?
There are only four of us in the cast, so although I open with Tracie, we all share the space equally. That’s the brilliance of a four-hander you can’t dominate, you can’t coast. You have to listen, respond, and allow your colleagues their moments to shine.
I always say a play like this is like a relay race. You’re constantly handing over and picking up the baton, and you have to keep the pace alive. At the same time, it’s also like running a marathon it’s relentless. Ninety minutes without a break, with so much happening emotionally and narratively, is no small feat.
Tracie is extraordinary. I’ve known her for years, so there’s already this brother-sister shorthand between us that makes our scenes feel lived-in and layered. There’s trust and love in the work, and that allows us to push each other further. With Nick Blakely and Solomon Davy, it’s been about discovering new rhythms together. I hadn’t worked with them before, but now we’ve bonded like brothers. That sense of ensemble is what makes The Code so electric it isn’t just Billy’s story, it’s all of ours woven together
Life backstage can be just as memorable as the performance. Do you and the cast have any rituals or downtime routines before or between shows?
We’ve got a little room upstairs where we play chess. I’m the arbiter, Nick is the master, and he’s teaching Solomon. It mirrors the play, really Nick as puppet master, Solomon as student.
You have a mix of stage and screen in your portfolio. How do you compare the challenges of performing in a (televised) soap like EastEnders vs live theatre, especially in a demanding dramatic piece like The Code?
They’re completely different beasts. TV people might roll their eyes when I say this, but I honestly think television especially soap is easier than theatre. Don’t get me wrong, TV has its own pressures. In soaps, you move fast, there’s no time for perfectionism, you just get the lines out and capture the moment. But once the scene is filmed, it’s done.
Theatre is different. It’s about repetition, and that’s what makes it hard. You have to bring the same truth every night, even after the 30th or 40th performance. The danger is that your body remembers the movements but forgets the feeling. That’s why I love having an associate director or getting notes it keeps you honest, keeps you fresh.
The Code is particularly demanding because of its pace. It’s 90 minutes straight through, no interval, and it’s emotionally packed. There’s no coasting, no “I’ll warm up into it.” You have to arrive at full tilt and stay there. It’s exhilarating, but it’s also exhausting. That’s the thrill of theatre though when it works, it’s like you and the audience are holding your breath together until the final line.
How do you pick a role now? What makes a play or character irresistible versus something you pass on?
It’s very different now than when I was younger. Back then, I’d take jobs for the paycheck, plain and simple. I had a plan for my life, I knew what I needed financially, and sometimes you do roles because you have to. I don’t regret it those choices gave me security and freedom later on.
But now, I’m in a different place. I wouldn’t say I’m retiring, but I am semi-retiring in a sense. Acting has been my entire identity since I was 16 years old. I’m turning 55, and I want to find out who I am outside of it. That doesn’t mean I’m walking away it means I’m being selective.
Now, I only take roles that speak to me on a deep level, roles I know I can honour properly. For too long, actors shoehorn themselves into parts, trying to convince themselves and everyone else they can “make it work.” I don’t want to do that anymore. I want to take roles that feel appropriate, where I can bring truth rather than force it. That’s why Billy Haines made sense to me. His story resonated with where I am in my own life starting a new chapter, making brave choices, living authentically. Those are the parts I say yes to now.
Is there a question that you would have liked to be asked but never have?
Honestly? Just “How are you?” So much of this job is about the work, the part, the press. But most of the time, what you really need is for someone to check in on you as a person. Especially in the world today.
With The Code, John Partridge brings to life the untold story of a man who chose love and truth over stardom nearly a century ago. It’s a role that mirrors John’s own journey stepping into a new chapter, reflecting on visibility, and asking what it means to live authentically. At its heart, the play is more than history; it’s a reminder that the fight for honesty and equality in the arts is far from over.