The Toronto Theatre Review: Talk Is Free Theatre’s Cock
By Ross
It’s quite the aggressive opening, one filled with a face-to-face, guttural, sexual energy as if hit by a car. The distance in between vibrates with tension and meaning, both illustrating the growing conflict between the characters and the electrical current that switches on and off with a foot tap. The two circle around the rupture, trying to understand the idea of detachment and commitment in the presence of so many insincere teddy bears. Then, with a visual lightning crack, felt with growing intensity, the dynamic engagement shifts, thanks to some stellar specific work by director Dylan Trowbridge (TIFT’s La Bête), throwing everything that was thought to be true into an alternate realm. It is as if the ground has shifted under their feet, leaving them unmoored and unable to find their newly required balance in this new world order. This reformation inside the formidable and electric Talk Is Free Theatre production “needs some straightening out,” we are told, and in that one turning moment, the intimate staging of the play on words slams Cock forward with a feisty level of fun and anger, mixed by a clever clear intent.
Deep within the cavernous Artists Play Studio, Carlaw Industrial Center, Toronto, the unraveling intimately before us creates, with expertise, some pretty solid fighting footwork in their talented cast and staging, with edgy physicalizations portrayed and pretended with a sharp clarity. The anxiously endearing Jakob Ehman (Buddies’ Roberto Zucco) finds unpolished complexity in his portrayal of John, the central character and player in this ring, who finds himself, without intent, lost in a confusing sensual wilderness that he didn’t see coming. Wrestling with his sexual identity, he stumbles blindly forward, falling through plastic sheets into the arms of those who are there waiting to grab hold of him. He discovers an unknown desire waiting by the train, forcing him to reevaluate what it means to love and be loved, and by whom, on a more human level, outside of those social boundaries set up by constructs too rigid to embrace all of him.
One could label what he is struggling with, in essence, as pansexuality, although it’s never fully stated as such. John sees himself, at least in this very moment, as not limiting his sexual choices in regard solely to biological sex, gender, or gender identity. He states, it’s not the man or the woman, but the person he is in love with, or should I say, the person he desires. That rings fairly true with each, but one thing is clear: his sexual desire for his boyfriend, “M”, played intensely by the very appealing Michael Torontow (Segal/Mirvish’s Titanique), remains intact, although care and comfort are another story. While with his other new love and sexual interest, “W”, dynamically and fascinatingly portrayed by Tess Benger (Eclipse Theatre’s Sunday in the Park with George), the attachment seems organic, and the sex impossible to ignore, as is Benger’s brilliantly hypnotic and organic portrayal. I couldn’t take my eyes of her, even when the speaking was being carried out by others. Yet, in this portrayed process, his acute dilemma is certainly throwing them all for a massive loop, as it is as much of a surprise for John as it is for “M”, although it is certainly valid and real.
John moves with nervous stealth around the space, from one faraway end to the other, jumping in and out of the rectangular ring with his different loves. The war of desire is on, and he is paralysed, and sometimes annoyingly silent, by this surprising twist of attraction and his inability to see his way forward. They both demand a decision, and he gives them what they ask for when they ask for it, but as soon as the next match resumes, the game and decision shift. Is he a perpetual pleaser of whoever is before him? Most definitely, and as frustrating as it is to all that surround him, the dilemma is forever real and honestly confusing. The dialogue, as written by Mike Bartlett (King Charles III), is sharp and direct, with characters pinpointing the problems with clarity. “You needed to be stronger,” John is told, but he is never quite sure what it is he truly and ultimately wants. And what does strength have to do with it all, he wonders. While also agreeing with the statement. “Am I going to miss his cock, twitching, throbbing?” John just doesn’t know, stating empathetically that he sees himself as two unique personas, different with each, yet pulled by the other. The shift doesn’t really come off as authentically as it needs to be, but the emotionality that hangs in the echoing air does bring forth some level of clarity and insight.
“What is it about him?” one might ask. John is definitely appealing, in a tightly coiled kinda way, and as portrayed by Ehman, we can’t stop being intrigued by the complexity of him, just like “W” and “M”, with confusing fascination. The three find a way to engage in that well-formulated open industrial space, crafted together beautifully by production designer Kathleen Black (TIFT’s Outheis), and even when the dynamic feels forced, we stay with it, believing that inside the confusion, the complexity of the situation registers as honest, intense, and credible. And then, M’s father, “F”, played solidly by Kevin Bundy (Mirvish’s Harry Potter…), shows up for the ultimate bitch/cock fight and dinner, and the gloves come off quickly and rudely as the wine is poured and the main course served.
It is truly a great pleasure to revisit and take in Talk is Free Theatre‘s Cock, performed as good or better than any of the other Cock play productions I have seen. I missed Cock (the play), when it premiered at the Royal Court in 2009 starring Andrew Scott and Ben Whishaw, as well as when it premiered off-Broadway at the Duke On 42nd Street, in New York City, in 2012, starring Cory Michael Smith as John. But I did manage to see it in London’s West End, with two big star leads, the dashing and talented Taron Egerton (NT’s The Last of the Haussmans; “Rocketman“) alongside the incredible Olivier Award winner Jonathan Bailey (West End’s Company) as the male couple in the center of this battlefield ring, and this Cock, produced by Talk Is Free Theatre stands up just as tall and strong for the whole world to see.
Played out ferociously passionate and fiercely dynamic with its complex sexual longing trapped sharply inside that diabolically good echoing industrial space, with self operated lights spotlighting moments of creative intensity, this Cock (the play) finds intimacy and engagement within its minimalistic staging. The formidably captivating cast pulls us in, particularly the unwavering Benger, finding electricity and sexuality in their heightened construct and craving focus. The actors forcibly utilize the crisp dialogue and close examination with desperate intensity, unpacking their conflict with a fierce fighting edge and a deep yearning for unconditional love. More could have been unearthed inside a more subtle, quiet variety of emotional responses, but the overall effect of Talk is Free Theatre‘s Cock (the play) does keep the warring action on fire, lit from within, and played out like an out of control cock fight.
