Jakob Ehman and Michael Torontow in Cock | Photo by Dahlia Katz
Cock is insufficient. As a provocative word, it’s got some girth. Even with its varied meanings, however, I don’t think it’s the best title for Mike Bartlett’s play. Cockfight would come closer, but that analogy doesn’t fit snugly enough. The play itself, and Talk Is Free Theatre’s intimate and immersive production, is fully compelling though. Cock, uh… satisfied me.
Which is more than can be said for any of the characters, none of whom seem particularly fulfilled by the end of this story, though there is technically a winner. Everyone around the deeply impressionable John (Jakob Ehman) is frustrated and he himself is painfully indecisive. They love him deeply, though I’m not sure I do. I have some feeling for him, certainly. He is a timidly playful cipher early on, but Bartlett fleshes him out by the end. And Ehman embodies him with such an insistent, coaxing vulnerability, that I do care despite how intensely I want to slap him.
John lives with his current boyfriend M (Michael Torontow), and has, up to this point, identified as gay. His attraction to M is palpable in this first of three chapters, though he’s clearly restless. We jump seamlessly through a mini-breakup and reunion, the progression of time understood only from shifts in their energies as John introduces the spectre of a woman into their home. He’s had sex with her—a declaration that makes both M and the audience wonder at this interloper who complicates their dynamic. She takes up mythic space—the other woman.
When we finally meet W (Tess Benger), we fully understand John’s infatuation. She’s like a burst of fresh air after the stifling carnal antagonism of his dance with M. She’s breezy and self-assured in a way that disarms both John and us. She goes after what she wants, though the sense of discovery and excitement is mutual. Where Torontow exudes a sense of restrained threat, Benger’s quirky energy seems like a bright and open invitation. Their sex scene is a sweet and giddy spectacle; facing each from a distance, their breathy dialogue allows our imaginations to fill in the distance between them.
M, though, is still around, taking up significant space in John’s mind and body. As John reckons with his torn erotic feelings, he must contend with limiting sexual labels and their troubling impact on his sense of identity.
In a third chapter, the three meet to discuss the situation—a scenario that plays out with as much awkward tension as you imagine. M’s father F (Kevin Bundy) figures into this fraught dynamic as a reasonable third party, though he’s anything but objective. Bundy’s intense energy is assertive and affectionately paternal, though we catch glimpses of antagonistic impulses, letting us know he has a dog in this fight.
Director Dylan Trowbridge’s moody production is contained in a grimy industrial unit. We feel trapped with these characters, the awful clang of the rolling steel door ensuring we stay with them until they decide they’re done. The actors move constantly about, around and through the audience seated along the edges of the enclosed space.
Kathleen Black’s design features a high expanse of plastic sheeting hung at one end, adding to the harsh industrial vibes and facilitating some expressive shadow play whenever action occurs behind it. In one especially evocative motif, the actors operate the few lamps lighting the action, turning them off and on in jarring, purposeful gestures—an exhilarating bit of dramatic punctuation.
The burden of choice hangs heavy throughout the final scene. It’s borderline excruciating, watching M, W and F’s relentless wrangling about who (or what) John is and where his ultimate loyalty lies. Even when John finally calls a shot, it doesn’t ease the burden, sending us all out into the cold night on a quietly harrowing note.
Cock
running January 19 to 31, 2025
Artists Play Studio, Carlaw Industrial Complex
(388 Carlaw Avenue, Unit 205)
running time: 90 minutes (no intermission)
Jakob Ehman and Tess Benger in Cock | Photo by Dahlia Katz