The stark simplicity of Mike Bartlett’s 2009 play Cock shines through every moment in this staging by HER Productions at the Cockpit Theatre, on tour from the Hope Mill Theatre and heading to Shakespeare North.
You cannot move in with both; you are not Schrödinger’s cat
For some, the play may seem dated, yet nowhere has the bisexual conflict in the mind of one young man been so clearly laid bare. As such, it still contributes meaningfully to ongoing debates. It is not about what moralists see as rights and wrongs, but rather the inner turmoil of being confronted with externally imposed demands to declare your love and sexual inclinations as though they were a simple either/or predicament.
John (Callum Ravden) thought he knew who he was, living happily with his boyfriend M (John O’Neill) of seven years – until he met W (Hannah Ellis Ryan). She shakes the foundations of his existence, teaches him about female anatomy and invites him to make love to her – which he does. Thus begins a back-and-forth between W and M, and a struggle between fidelity and betrayal. It assumes the biblical proportions of the debate between God and money: “No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both...” Or in John’s case, you can position yourself in a perpetual tug-of-war between your homosexual partner and your heterosexual lover. You cannot move in with both; you are not Schrödinger’s cat.
Director Rupert Hill has meticulously adhered to Bartlett’s limited instructions on the staging of Cock – no set, no props – allowing the text, which amply describes setting, costumes and actions, to speak for itself, unlike some less convincing West End productions. Hill goes further, prohibiting physical contact even when it might seem natural. This heightens the isolation and detachment of the characters from each other, despite their intimate relationships, and raises the tension. The action exists at both surface and subliminal levels, while the square performing space keeps the cast hemmed in, intensifying the sense of entrapment. The area allows for freedom of movement, yet it is choreographed with precision to accentuate the message and nature of the dialogue, which the cast delivers impeccably.
Bartlett gives very clear markings and punctuation to denote delivery, and Hill has paid close attention to these, creating an energetic pace and a powerful group dynamic in which the tempi vary to reflect the mood and intensity of the exchanges. An outstanding cast rises to the demands of meticulous direction.
Ravden is superb in his cutely naïve depiction of John’s confusion and dilemma – a man riddled with guilt and wracked with indecision. O’Neill conveys M’s frustration at having to deal with the situation while being desperately in love with John and aching for the settled existence his maturity desires. Bearing a credible father-son resemblance, Toby Hadoke exerts impassioned rhetoric in support of his son – a man from a previous generation who has espoused a remarkable level of liberal tolerance. However, he is accused by W of lecherously admiring her body during the difficult dinner party. Ryan’s W is not to be messed with; she gives a firmly confident portrayal of a woman able to confront and deal with anything thrown her way.
As we come to know the characters, our sympathies are invoked all round as the tension rises to an emotional climax that easily induces a few tears.
