With a title like this, it will come as no surprise to anyone that this play has similarities to a Jane Austen novel.
To start with, it has a tight focus on the success or failure of a romantic relationship.
But like an Austen novel, this focus is deceptive; Mike Bartlett’s finely crafted interrogation of what seems a garden variety experience opens up to a much deeper consideration of what it is to be human.
The scenario is simple: John has been in a relationship with a man (M), but now he has fallen for a woman (W). Who gets to keep him?
Casey Moon-Watton’s wonderfully clever set suitably evokes a boxing ring. It also gives the actors nowhere to hide – and this highlights their splendidly precise performances.
Darrin Redgate’s direction is superb; his use of space almost ballet-like in its beauty.
Andrew Lindqvist as M plays magnificently that very challenging of paradoxes: the amiable grump. However, it’s his revelation of the vulnerability in that character which is the performance’s most extraordinary achievement.
Grace Stamna’s W is a delight. Beginning as a glorious breath of fresh air blowing through the staleness of John’s life, it’s fascinating to watch that energy transform to flinty determination.
As John’s father, Richard Cotter produces brilliant comic work; his character weighing into crucial philosophical arguments armed with nothing more than a good heart.
John is a tough role to play. Vacillation, hesitation and indecision are not the most admirable, or indeed watchable, of human qualities. (Who hasn’t hoorayed when Hamlet finally gets poked with that poison-tipped sword?) It’s hard to be heroic when you’re busy shilly-shallying. But Stephen Schofield as John pulls it off. It’s a miraculous performance, eliciting from the audience empathy and offering them that most poisoned-tipped of swords: self-recognition.
Earlier I mentioned both philosophical issues and the play’s deep consideration of what it is to human – but don’t get the impression it’s all too heavy. In fact, it’s a very funny piece of theatre that (like Austen’s work) is a close kissing-cousin to sit-com. But the simple story digs into a treacherous fracture line in our culture. As one of the characters suggests, the labelling of straight and gay has undoubtedly aided the extension of human rights. (And I’d extrapolate that observation to every other demographic moniker currently in fashion.)
But – and this is a big but – labelling is a legal fiction. People are always more than labels. When should we let them go?
Paul Gilchrist
Cock by Mike Bartlett
at Flight Path Theatre until 18 May