Those were my first words when I left the performance of COCK to David Zak, producer and resident wizard of Open Space Arts, and he dared me to say it in my review so—here you go, DZ!
But COCK truly is. F***king amazing, I mean. Really.
I’ll introduce the venue first: Open Space Arts (OSA) is ‘dedicated to combating homophobia and antisemitism through the transformative power of creativity and cultural expression’. Nothing to argue with there! OSA Theatre is the quintessential Chicago ‘black box theatre’, and one of the smallest I’ve attended: only about 20 seats, with a stage about the size of my living room (which is pretty bloody small!) … plus, right smack in the center of the stage is this big ol’ vertical drainpipe. I always love seeing how companies work with and around the oddities and idiosyncrasies of their space, and Director Wren Wesner did a singularly splendid job with COCK.
The script: written (or premiered, anyway) in 2008 by British playwright Mike Bartlett, this is the Chicago debut. There are four characters: John (Eliot Hall), his long-time lover M (Kevin Woodrow), M’s father F (Michael Lomenick), and a woman John connects with, W (Sonya Robinson) [Obviously Man, Woman, and Father].
And the story: John comes home to M after two weeks silent absence. The first act is John and M’s discussion of his absence and the past, present, and future of their relationship, where we establish that John has spent those two weeks with W, a woman he met passing on the street (albeit not a streetwalker) and very rapidly grew very attached to. John and M’s tête-à-tête culminates with John promising M he’ll break it off with W.
But the minute he’s away from M John starts vacillating … who is he anyway? What is he? Is he gay? he’s only ever had sex with men, but this woman is so attractive, and her ‘gap’ (we hear many appellations for this female characteristic, most of them from M and most of them unattractive) … did you get lost there? Sorry. I’m talking about John’s impression of W’s gap (she says that while John gets a hard on, she gets a gap-on) which, much to his surprise—and to ours, particularly having heard M’s singularly negative view — (not to mention our pre-conceived assumption of gay mens’ associations thereof) is a singularly positive impression. [thank Someone for periods—the punctuation kind, not the gap kind—else that sentence might still be driveling on].
I’m not doing a very coherent job of this, am I? but that’s OK, cos this somewhat chaotic narrative is not inconsistent with the flavor of COCK – not that COCK is incoherent, and it’s certainly not drivel! but it did follow a circuitous course, with Bartlett leaving to us the responsibility of making sense of it all. Because that is just what John finds himself unable to do. Like a fundamentalist Christian, he’s desperately seeking a synopsis, a definitive sobriquet, a Revelation that will define What’s What—and thereby What’s Right and What’s Wrong. What a terrific query for election year 2024! How did Mike Bartlett know we’d need this right now? Luckily David Zak and co-producer Elayne LeTraunik did know, and they brought it to life at OSA to assist us in figuring out WTF is What with American democracy!
But I digress (no surprise there). Back to COCK.
The title is provocative; shouldn’t it be COCK & GAP? But no, the title refers to John’s confusion as to where said cock feels most at home. Some Brit producers called it COCKFIGHT—not inappropriate.
John certainly seems to be gay: he’s had none but male sex partners all his life, his relationship with M is long-term and committed, he’s never felt any attraction to womankind … until W. So just what is John? Bi? [Though for him it’s more like Gay+1.] Naturally John has thought about What He’s Missing: having kids, belonging to the mainstream community, living a “normal” life … and so on and so forth, you know the drill.
Solution: Invite W to a dinner party where, over roast beef and red wine John will… will what? By the time it actually happens he’s promised both M and W that he will give the others their marching orders. Then the situation is further snarled by M announcing he’s invited his dad for moral support. F brings a surfeit of additional issues as well as additional attitudes to the issues already under review.
So, the story boils down to John making a Decision … does he stick with the gay relationship he knows, the man he loves, and a place that’s at least familiar, or will he choose a ‘normal’, mainstream life with this woman he can’t stop craving? Choose, John! Make a decision!
But wait! This decision is about an issue that they—we!—fervently believe is not a decision but an inborn trait! Decades of blood sweat and tears by LGBTQ activists, mental health professionals, religious leaders, and politicians has finally brought us to the widespread understanding that homosexuality (like heterosexuality) is not a choice, it’s a predilection that everyone is born with and that nobody can just change. So, in asking John to Decide, what happens to that issue? Do we bring back the conversion therapies, restore homosexuality to the DSM, return Anita Bryant to her pulpit, fire all the gay teachers and court-martial the gay soldiers? All just so John can decide where to put his cock?
The acting is extraordinary, beginning with Eliot Hall, who brings authenticity to and elicits sympathy for John’s emotional turmoil. Hall makes us see that John is not just a wishy-washy waffler; he’s genuinely torn, flummoxed by a question he never imagined he’d be obliged to answer … after all, no one should! He projects intense chemistry with both M and W, spotlighting the degree of his conundrum.
Hall’s admirable performance is more than matched by Kevin Woodrow. M’s bewilderment is fully as unsettling as John’s, with the additional distress of total helplessness. There’s nothing M can do to resolve the situation, or even to influence it; he can only wait until John acts. And bake cheesecake. Woodrow illuminates this ferment, while never letting us (or John!) forget that John is the love of his life. Woodrow also has terrific comedic sense. The entire script is full of wonderful metaphors, which Woodrow delivers flawlessly, bringing down the house with: “There’s so much emotional crap that orbits you, like you’re collecting space junk.”
Sonya Robinson is a worthy foil – her performance illustrates the unenviable position W is in: unintentionally, reluctantly, involuntarily, she has fallen in love with this stranger, only to find she must fight for him in a battle she is personally disinclined for. W offers John both passion and compassion. My initial, natural proclivity was to root for M (anyone surprised by this hasn’t been reading my reviews), but Robinson made me understand her better and, if not favor her cause, at least appreciate what John saw in her. And, just BTW, she is NOT mannish!
F is in the action for only a fraction of the 90-minute run, but Michael Lomenick makes the most of that time. Lomenick reads through the script to his unwavering love for his son, both his sons. F brings us an historical aspect; he remembers the times of persecution and prison and as a father is relieved that his sons need not face this oppression.
My companion is new to Chicago theatre, especially the storefront sites; afterwards he told me he had assumed that such a small theatre would mount a “small” production. I laughed and told him, “This is Chicago, cher. There’s fully as much talent in the storefronts as at Goodman or Nederlander”, and he couldn’t but agree, particularly regarding the acting. I expect high-quality acting in the black boxes, but Lomenick, Robinson, Woodrow, and Hall [sounds like the name of a law firm innit?] sailed over even that high-placed bar.
Justin Walker managed the lighting, collaborating with Sound director Angela Joy Baldasare to signal scene changes with light and sound. Director Wren Wesner, with Teri Talo as Assistant, did a totally brilliant job with blocking; the physical space afforded them no other manner of defining scenes, and their magic let us clearly see the apartment: from the foyer, through the living room and back to the outdoor deck, as well as illustrating fluctuating moods and relationships. Talo was also Assistant to Stage Manager Desiree Stypinski; together they maintained the scaffolding for a magnificent production.
I must give a shoutout to Intimacy Coordinator Greta Zandstra: the sex was hot as hell, without a stitch of clothing shed or a single physical touch. Bravo! Masterfully done!
COCK is totally hilarious, and none of the humor is too British for us colonials. But the story is ultimately a tragedy, for John is facing the impossible; deciding whose heart he will break—including his own. No spoilers! but it’s a devilishly difficult situation, innit? and a theme with emotional, societal, political, and personal ramifications. I’ll be thinking about COCK for a long time.
And today I’m HIGHLY RECOMMENDING it!
COCK plays through April 21 at Open Space Arts
