I read about Cock before going to Red Turnip’s press preview of the show. So coming in, I was expecting to witness something different. I was expecting it to be contemptuous; I was expecting it to be witty. After all, there are a number of subtexts one can hypothesize from a show with a title like that.
Despite this though, the experience of watching the show felt like being pushed around by exhilarating and alternating waves of wit and depth.
The audience was seated on chairs surrounding the show’s stage – if one can even call that a stage. It was just a huge circle at the center of the room. And when the lights turned on at the beginning of the show, you would know that it is not really a stage. It is an arena. A minimalist set designed to highlight what really matters in the show’s narrative: the characters’ transactions and interactions and how these define and change the status of their relationships.
Written by Mike Bartlett, the Olivier-winning play Cock follows the story of John as he gets sucked into a quicksand of confusion and entangled in a web of indecision after falling in love with a woman, W, while on a break with his ex-male lover, M. After a series of white lies and tension-filled conversations, the three decide to settle the score (while figuratively going for each other’s throats) and make John choose between M and W over dinner — with M’s dad F. The material is rich with wit and dry humor, and beneath these tones are profound insights about individuals and relationships.
Theater stalwart Rem Zamora debuts as a director in Cock. The thing is, it didn’t seem like it was his first time directing. And while there may be errors in the presentation (that I didn’t see), these wind up to be negligible in the overall execution. He successfully set out a roadmap to effectively pull the material out of paper and help translate it to a live performance. And this is not an easy feat, considering how intricate the material is.
Furthermore, much of the show’s success can be attributed to the actors. They breathe life to John, M, W, and F with impeccable rawness, gravitas and credibility. Topper Fabregas’ performance as John is thoroughly affecting as the character desperately and confusingly attempts to hold on to normalcy and a semblance of equilibrium while the world (or so it seemed to him) is forcing him to make a life-changing decision. Niccolo Manahan plays M with range and flexibility as he essays the role with both sarcasm and fragility. Jenny Jamora takes on the role of W with tenderness and vulnerability while Audie Gemora does F with appropriate self-awareness. Overall, the cast formulates an entertaining and believable dynamic as their chemistry shines through during the performance.
The truth is, the narrative can be tricky to pull off. After all, there’s always the danger of demonizing any or every character in the play. One can easily label John as a spineless man for having difficulty making a decision. One can easily see M as a cold-hearted and sarcastic prick for still running after John as their relationship fell apart. It is easy to dismiss W as nothing more than just an idealistic and needy lover, and F as a patronizing and unnecessary distraction in the confrontation. But none of them are one-dimensional. In fact, it is easy to get sucked into the notion that they are actual human beings with history and baggage. The characters have depth and they ultimately ask the right questions about identity, the problematic necessity of defining oneself and their relationships.
It also helps that the set complements the point of the story. It’s just a bare circle without anything on it. It was just a round platform where the characters talk, banter, and confront each other, with their rather poetic choreography defining the status of their respective relationships. Fights involve the characters circling each other, while a couple on the cusp of new found love walks side by side. Props are considered excesses. Besides, people don’t usually see or notice the things around them in a moment of tension and emotion. We only see the person and everything else tends to be an extension of the self or of the other. The set ultimately highlights the interactions of the characters as they throw jabs of sarcasm and pain while deflecting these attacks with defensive love and resignation towards each other.
This is where the production triumphs: in translating a material on paper and breathing life to it to the point that the audience will be immersed enough to root for someone. With the lighting design and the minimalist platform at the center of the stage, the audience is turned into spectators of a cock fight – where the participants are people and injuries run deeper and more lasting than a nasty and fatal cut on the skin. Nobody is allowed to be passive – even the audience.
Red Turnip’s staging of Cock is a breath of fresh air in theater. Not that every production should take a revisionist stance, but every now and then, we need something that takes risks; one that is willing to experiment – whether in form, content, or both. Cock gives us the opportunity to experience the wonders that come out of that bravery. In the end, while I have already prepared myself for what I am about to see coming in, I still left the venue surprised and impressed. And while that statement might be highly subjective and personal, at least I can confidently say that this kind of “new” is worth watching.
