we can take
the dead moth asleep between us,
you who fingers its arched back, a spinal keyboard,
and sound out the words, 'He's dead' before
we reach for the needle
that will sew the coffin shut."
-Amy King, "The Strange Power of Lying to Yourself"
"One last sarcastic curveball, that who threw
at whom, and who got stranded on third base?
I won't stay if you don't want me to,
but you didn't show up after, and I knew
a whole night might let wolves loose in our space.
Lie down beside me if it's good for you."
-Marilyn Hacker, "Coming Downtown"
Before I get into the details, Available Light's production of Mike Bartlett's acid sex farce, Cock, beautifully directed by Ian Short, is a must see for anyone who wants to see the best acting being done in town and has a stomach for something brittle, bitter and unrelenting. I try to save some spoilers from this but at one point I just say "fuck it" because I can't figure out how best to articulate what I'm saying without them, so be warned. Because of that, tickets link is being placed here twice: http://avltheatre.com/tickets/
Spare. A white rectangle on a black stage with a stage manager/referee clad in tuxedo behind a board, the minute characters walk out the audience is on edge. David Glover, as John, and Drew Eberly, as M, are having an argument about almost nothing that spirals into a discussion of if they should break up. The rapid fire language in these scenes - punctuated by the manager ringing the bell like a boxing match - is dazzling to watch. An almost perfect fusion of the rhythms of contemporary speech shot up with a speedball of Harold Pinter and a dash of Odets, spiked with the apocalyptic certitude of Sarah Kane, in a version of a bitchy Noel Coward romp.
There's almost no back story, very little setup, we're plunged into what feels like the last days of a dying, sour situation and it moves - for a while - at a breakneck pace, time vanishing with the light, both dark and blisteringly bright, on that stage that makes it clear why this was nicknamed (in polite print media) The Cockfight Play. The first third also interestingly sets up a scene, where John tells M what he loves about him, physically, in a way that manages to be very sweet and incredibly manipulative at the same time. The power dynamic shifts decisively in those moments and M feels less in control, feels more like a rounded person, though I don't think the characters are really the point here.
The play hits a snag with its second third and the introduction of W, the woman John and M are - at least on the surface - fighting about in several of the first section's scenes because John leaves M for her and comes back. W is played by Elena Perantoni and the performance is phenomenal - sexy and charming and damaged and a little weird and clear-eyed enough I often felt like she was the one character who has a shot at walking out of this smoking crater and finding some happiness for herself. As we see her circle around John, and likewise, and the energy shifts to more of a playful seduction, less of a tete-a-tete. There are great sequences here, including a crackling, electric sex scene played in complete darkness, but by the time the play shifts again I couldn't help but think it leans too hard on the tension that the scenes we're watching go between the scenes we've already seen. W's character is fleshed out even less than either of the men and the scenes don't really stand on their own, they only carry dramatic weight because they serve as backfill.
The final third is a dinner party thrown by M to which W is invited for John to make a decision between the two of them. Naturally, there's a surprise guest, who I won't give away except to say he's played beautifully by Ken Erney, as there always seems to be in drawing room plays whether murder or sex, and naturally the two lovers both show up assured John has chosen each of them. Of course things go wrong, and the play ramps back up to that electrifying claws-out energy of the beginning but this is the point where the play started to feel too long and my energy and attention started to flag. Worst of all in a coda that I think is supposed to be emotional, and I did find myself gripped by an unexpected, wild sympathy for M but mostly just comes off as grating.
Ultimately, I think my problem was confusion. In discussing with the folks I saw the play with, by the end I felt like we were supposed to see M as significantly (15 years maybe?) older than John - both in his desperation to not be alone and especially in John's teary "I'm just your trophy now" speech - but with a youngish good looking guy like Drew Eberly (and the play makes very clear that he's wealthy) I didn't understand why. It's to the credit of Short's direction and Glover's charm that these questions didn't occur to me until the very end but it robbed the ending of some punch I think it was supposed to have. Also, F sticking around and forcing a resolution didn't jibe with the character as I saw her in the second third of the play. I didn't feel like the quality of the love either party had received from John - as shown in the text - justified that kind of devotion and I didn't feel like the comic exaggeration of the play quite got me over that believability hump.
Ian Short's bold, physical take in his direction does a great job of making sure the audience knows where to look and still misdirecting us at vital moments, a hard feat with so few characters and no real set to speak of. Jarod Wilson's lighting choices seemed good but - and I'm not sure if this was his call or the stage manager - often the transitions between them felt very sloppy. With so few technical elements, and with a palette that goes from can't-see-anything-to a white light so bright I cringed, it felt like that should have been razor sharp.
Despite feeling like it's a third too long, I came out very glad I saw this. When the laughs are coming they come fast and furious and never feel like the play or the actors are straining for them. Drew Eberly is a roman candle here, burning with dazzling intensity but more than that, when he snaps to another mood or another scene the control is like watching someone on a tightrope. David Glover, who's been destroying anything he gets his teeth on this season, hit it out of the park - a marvel of nuance and charm. And Perantoni who I gushed about a couple paragraphs ago really is that good with maybe the least to work off in the writing.
Cock runs through May 24th. Tickets are available at http://avltheatre.com/tickets/
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