• theatre
  • features
  • faqs
  • contact
  • theatre
  • features
  • faqs
  • contact
  Art Murmurs - Wellington Reviews

Reviews

Cock

15/10/2019

Comments

 

Corey Spence

Picture
‘Boy meets girl meets his boyfriend’ we’re told on the cover of Cock’s programme: it’s more than enough detail to tantalise, to get audiences to ponder on what could possibly cause such a circumstance. We hone in on John (Jack Buchanan), a man who deals with being attracted to M (Simon Leary), a man, and W (Karin McCracken), a woman, simultaneously. But rather than a story of infidelity, Cock is a pulsating tale that inspects the hate and pain that comes with love, the imposing labels that generate fear and anxiety in our world, and how making the ‘right’ decision can sometimes feel impossible.

Finding my seat in Circa One, it’s been a while since I’ve seen the stage and seating played with in such a way. It’s thrust-like with gaps between seating blocks: three tiered blocks of seating surround a white square (and backdrop), serving as our stage. The clinical white makes the space feel very neutral, which plays to the show’s advantage. With nothing to distract the audience from what the actors are doing, the stage and seating help us hone in on the true focus of this production: the people, their actions, and their choices. The lighting bathes the white stage and backdrop with sharp, glaring reds and then occasionally blues, embodying the anger, the frustration, the passion, and the anxiety that pairs with each scene they accompany. Sean Lynch’s clever set and lighting design is worth great merit to give this focus the platform it deserves.


Raw and full-throttle, it’s no wonder writer Matt Bartlett has a fair number of accolades for his scriptwriting. It is his witty, zippy dialogue throughout Cock that makes it so engrossing to watch. Functionally, it is a sequence of dialogic scenes, several between John and M, then several between John and W, and then a series of scenes between the three of them and the intrusion of F (Matt Chamberlain), who comes in as a not-so-impartial “external” force to ‘help’ push for a decision. Throughout the scenes however, we gain a real picture of who John, M, and W are as characters and what they have at stake in this highly complicated love triangle. It sets up a contrast in the two ‘sides’ of John’s life: his love for M and his love for W, and how at one point, he needs to make a choice about who to be with, how that choice is imposed on him, and how that choice affects him and those around him.

It’s a multi-layered complication: John has spent most of his life as a gay man, but then suddenly, after the degradation of his relationship, falls for and in love with a woman. Coming out was hard enough the first time, he announces, but now he’s even more confused. But then, he finds that his decision isn’t so binary. He feels strongly for both M and W, and everyone (including John) needs John to make a decision for anyone to trudge out of this mire. But the questions and decisions wrack around John, drowning him in complex thoughts, those that cannot be made without serious consideration: Who is he? Who will he choose? What is his sexuality? Who will be happy? Who will be disappointed? All comes crashing down in the play’s horrifying climax, where the broken John no longer has the luxury of indecision, no matter how painful a choice this is.

Under the direction of Shane Bosher, Buchanan, Leary, McCracken, and Chamberlain invigorate the 90-minute production, breathing life and a unique air to each character that traces through John’s life. Buchanan’s John is a nervous spirit and he plays the confusion and, most impressively, the internal turmoil created by the decisions with great potency. It’s an intricate balance. When working towards repairing the relationship with or reassuring M or W, his comfortable motions, tracing the stage, finding the right moments to embrace, make it seem we’re watching a dance with three partners. But when the two experiences cross paths, he couldn’t seem more on edge if he was standing on one: it’s now a combat between the two sides. And it's when John is truly at the tipping point where we can appreciate Buchanan’s craft. It’s difficult to play ‘truly broken’ with poignancy and electricity, but Buchanan’s talent more than speaks for itself.

Leary and McCracken, M and W respectively, are the two sides to this love triangle and both a brimming, engaging contrast. Leary’s M is condescending, unrelenting, and the stage often feels like war between two forces when he creates distance between himself and John, berating him, which seems like classic ‘loving insults’ at first but delve into something much more sinister as M’s insecurities start to surface. Leary navigates these extremes incredibly well: we enjoy M as a sass-master but grow to feel simultaneously sorry and angry at him for the way he treats John. McCracken’s W is gentle yet strong; she is a new comfort for John, and one who physically and emotionally stands up for herself when the men attempt to discredit or dispower her. She shows balance this with her closeness to John, and creates an authentic feeling of care for the audience to enjoy. It’s the kind of reassuring hand anyone going through a difficult decision, an uncertain path, could benefit from.

Chamberlain’s F is aloof and bloke-ish; he tries, perhaps rather desperately, to lead John into making the ‘correct’ call. I won’t divulge on too many character details as to spoil the action, but he adds an additional perspective to the mixture, one of developing understanding from an older individual. Chamberlain brings a staunch energy to the character, which helps combat how the character’s inclusion feels 
on-the-nose and in-yer-face as a plot device to advance the characters’ insecurities and amplify the pressure for John to choose; this does sometimes drag out the action.

Cock
is profoundly affecting. I remember being in a situation like John’s and how soul-crushing the pressure feels to make a decision that can’t be right for anyone. The actors expertly navigate the side-eye, banter-filled warzone provided by Bartlett’s no-holds-barred script to deliver an engaging production, one that’s messy, funny, and often awkward. I encourage you to see it: there’s so much more to Cock than its provocative title.

Cock
is currently on at Circa Theatre, running until Saturday 9 November. You can book tickets or find more out about the show through Circa Theatre’s website.

Comments

    Local Honest Reviews

    At Art Murmurs, our aim is to provide honest and constructive art reviews to the Wellington community.

    Archives

    March 2023
    February 2023
    December 2022
    November 2022
    October 2022
    September 2022
    August 2022
    July 2022
    June 2022
    May 2022
    April 2022
    March 2022
    February 2022
    January 2022
    September 2021
    July 2021
    April 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021
    November 2020
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    June 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015

    Categories

    All
    All Age Appropriate
    Art
    BATS
    Beauty Standards
    Black Comedy
    Body Positive
    Circa
    Circus
    Comedy
    Comedy Festival 2018
    Comedy Festival 2019
    Comedy Gala 2022
    Community Theatre
    Dance
    Devised
    Documentary
    Drag
    Drama
    Emerging Artist
    Exhibition
    Experimental
    Female Artists
    Feminism
    Feminist
    Festival
    For Kids
    Fringe
    Fun
    Gallery
    Gryphon Theatre
    Hannah Playhouse
    Heart + Music
    History
    Improv
    Interactive
    International
    Interview
    Ivy
    Lighting
    Local
    Mental Health
    Monologue
    Music
    Musical
    New Writing
    New Zealand
    NZ Comedy
    NZ Fringe
    NZIF
    On Tour
    Performance Poetry
    Photography
    Photospace Gallery
    Physical Theatre
    Political
    Politics
    Premiere
    Pyramid Club
    Queer
    Race
    Roxy LIVE
    Science
    Scruffy Bunny Improv Theatre
    Sexual Violence
    Shakespeare
    Site Specific
    Site-specific
    Sketch
    Solo Show
    Song
    Spoken Word
    Stagecraft
    Storytelling
    Tahi Festival
    Te Auaha
    Theatre
    Thought Provoking
    Thought-provoking
    Thriller
    Toi Poneke Gallery
    Verbatim
    Victoria University
    Violence
    Virtual Theatre
    Weekly
    Wellington
    Wellington Footlights
    Wellington Repertory