Cock

Angus Grant and Tom Conroy in MTC’s Cock. Photo: Jeff Busby.

Twenty-something John (Tom Conroy) has been with his partner M (Angus Grant) for several years, but now their long-term relationship is starting to chafe and fray. After they break up, John meets W (Sophie Ross), the first woman he has ever been attracted to. Their chemistry is palpable, and their sex ecstatic, but after two weeks John returns to M’s apartment, missing the familiarity of life with his patronising former lover, even as he continues to see and sleep with W.

Soon the scene is set for a showdown: John must choose which of his lovers he prefers, and they will use every weapon at their disposal to win him over, from emotional blackmail to his favourite dessert.

Mike Bartlett’s witty drama about contemporary sexuality and relationships is not entirely well served by this production directed by MTC Associate Director Leticia Cáceres, though some of the production’s flaws are entirely due to problems with the script. The arrival of M’s father, F (Tony Rickards) late in the piece dilutes the tension that had been building palpably until that point, turning taut drama into awkward farce, and F’s major speech about tolerance seems forced; an unfortunate and clumsy intrusion of the authorial voice into the proceedings.

Marg Horwell’s set is simple but striking: when the play opens, the stage is covered in cushions, giving the impression of a quilt or couch, but also suggestive of a padded cell, an impression reinforced by two monolithic, sloping walls which form the backdrop. Unfortunately, delays between scenes as the actors furiously rearrange cushions to clear the floor – at one point in proceedings creating an arena in which M and W will fight for John’s affections – detract from Bartlett’s rapid-fire dialogue, which might have been better served by faster transitions from scene to scene, and also perhaps by the cast adopting British accents: without them, the quintessential Englishness of the climactic dinner party feels both unrealistic and contrived.  

Musical interludes from Missy Higgins between scenes also detract from rather enhance the drama.

At other points, Cáceres directs well, successfully balancing the high emotional stakes of the drama with its more comedic elements. The scenes between John and W are particularly effective, well-blocked and beautifully performed, whether the actors are jumping on and sliding beneath piles of cushions with giddy joy, or in a more intimate moment, deftly evoking the nervous arousal of two people extremely conscious of their attraction to one another and both scared and excited about where such feelings will lead.

Save for John, none of the characters are especially well developed: as suggested by their lack of names, M, F and W are ciphers, archetypes. Only John is fully fleshed out, to the point that his prevarications become a trifle grating – in his almost pitiful desire to please both his partners, he makes Hamlet look decisive.

Performances are generally strong, especially Sophie Ross as W, though Conroy tended a little towards exaggeration on opening night; no doubt he will settle into the role as the season progresses; and at its best, such as the bitchy showdown between M and W, or John’s pained discussion about how coming out as gay at university felt like conforming to the expectations of a tribe rather than truly discovering himself as an individual, Bartlett’s script is sharp, incisive and intelligent.

Cock may not be the hardest-hitting drama of the year, nor the best production, but it certainly entertains, as evidenced by the laughter and applause generated on opening night; and its exploration of sexual identities outside the traditional gay-straight dichotomy is welcome, and long overdue.