Review: "Cock"
Introduction:
As vaccination rollout is gradually picking up steam, and small venues begin to regain their footing in their maintenance of the Covid-19 protocols we are beginning to see a slow return to a version of live performance. This year we have been privy to some genuinely innovative digital live-performance hybrid productions that have managed to utilize their initial limitations to the benefit of the overall execution of their piece. Studio Theatre’s production of Cock is no exception.
Brief Plot:
Michael Barlett’s Cock follows the story of Jon (Randy Harrison) going back to his boyfriend (Scott Parkinson) for many years after their recent breakup. The only catch is he cannot seem to stop sleeping with the woman (Kathryn Tkel) that he started seeing during the weeks the two were apart. Possessing dialogue reminiscent of Pinter’s “Betrayal” set upon a sparse dirt circle that could have feasibly come from Beckett’s “Waiting for Godot” the audience is gifted with a powerful exploration of sexual identity, commitment, and the paralyzing anxiety that comes from not knowing if the person you are with is the ever ambivalent “one”.
Directing
Cock at its core is about finding identity within intimacy. During a pandemic when physical touch for those outside one’s pod is all but outlawed what is one to do? David Muse’s direction guides this ship in the right direction, straddling the line of both recreating his original staging in 2014 and updating it enough to fit the current medium. This is done to incredible effect. Everything about this production feels intentional. From the bare space to the the fast-paced tight dialogue, to the decision to go from a wide to medium shot to a split-screen when filming the performance itself.
This last point could be an article within itself. The way Cock is filmed was apparently born out of necessity. In order to keep the performers safe Muse’s blocking ensures the performers are not within six feet of each other at any point for the duration of the performance. Had I not gone in knowing that I would have thought this was a creative decision and not one made out of necessity. In a year of so much digital theatre Cock is the first production I have seen thus far that utilizes the digital aspect to its benefit. Rather than feeling like a taped performance Cock feels cinematic. By this, I mean that much like a film Cock utilizes cinematography to convey the themes of the scene in question rather than just presenting it in the way such filmed performances are typically done. The collaboration between David Muse, Wes Culwell (director of video), and Adrian Musy (director of photography) is truly something to behold. Every moment in this production has a purpose and everything is perfectly placed. The few split scene shots that are conveyed feel like a choice. Similar to Arronofsky’s Requiem for a Dream these moments only happen whenever the characters speaking to one another are on different pages entirely. These moments rather than taking the viewer out of the play inadvertently tune them into how even though the characters are close to one another physically emotionally they are worlds apart.
In an odd way, the distance between the actors is more effective than if it had been staged as was written on the page. When we remove physical intimacy from a story that largely is about such interactions the audience is forced to actually ponder the meaning and sensation behind such encounters. Cock does not just work within its limitations, it turns those limitations into powerful artistic decisions that better convey the themes at hand.
Actors
The ensemble cast of four play off each other immensely well, able to convey complex layered relationships from six feet away with ease. Randy Harrison of Queer as Folk fame portrays John’s identity crisis with a level of nuance that endears us to him. Like the characters within the play we are willing to forgive his transgressions, and look past the emotional damage his search for identity is causing to those in his life. His search for answers isn’t framed as an overblown mid-life crisis but rather a paralyzing mid-point in his life where whatever decision he makes will have its own set of what feels like eternal consequences.
Scott Parkinson performance as John’s partner M is a standout, at times eccentric and outlandish but somehow always grounded. Parkinson conveys M as a person who has a clear vision of who he is and what he wants. He is sturdy and strong and capable of conquering anything and rarely shaken. This is, of course, countered with Kathryn Tkel’s take on “W”. Tkel acts as a foil to M and a potential different option for John who after his breakup with M is realizing his sexuality may be more fluid than initially anticipated. Tkel’s W is curious, soothing, and unafraid of the big questions. The cast is rounded out by Alan Wade who portrays M’s father, as a spitfire man whose heart is in the right place even when his behavior is absolutely out of line.
Set Design
The set design is an open circle from which the play takes place. This sparse choice allows Barlett’s dialogue and the actor’s performances to shine through. There are several short scenes that are separated by a buzzer to indicate the passage of time. Much like the cinematography, this feels like a way to put the emphasis entirely on the dialogue and the story at hand. There are no distractions just the words.
Overall Cock is an unconventional exploration of sexual fluidity with spitfire dialogue, brilliant performances, and cinematography that provides a genuinely immersive experience. It should go without saying that if you are uncomfortable with sexual content or strong language maybe sit this one out. However, if neither of these things dissuades you I urge you to see it. It is genuinely a marvel to behold and will surely be held up as a time capsule of the incredible work artists were able to craft in spite of the circumstances caused by COVID-19. After a year without live performances, this may just be the verbal jolt one needs to revitalize their love of theatre or at least for a moment remember what it felt like to be immersed in a live performance. Even if in this instance the performance wasn’t live.