The title of Cock is hard. Direct. Shameless. So it’s intriguing that the path to Talk Is Free Theatre’s new production of Mike Bartlett’s play is so indirect and circumspect.
A serpentine trek through the labyrinthine corridors of the Carlaw Industrial Complex culminates in a short wait in the corridor, followed by the unexpected raising of a metallic roll-up door that would be right at home in a storage locker facility. Its metallic clang seals the audience within the stark confines of the Artists Play Studio – a jarring initiation that sets the tone for an edgy and illicit-feeling production of Cock.
Bartlett, a luminary in contemporary British theatre, has garnered acclaim for his incisive explorations of human relationships and societal norms. The play, which premiered in 2009 at London’s Royal Court Theatre, unpacks the tumultuous and often amusing journey of John, a man torn between his long-term male partner and roommate M, and a woman W, whom he unexpectedly falls for. The narrative probes the essence of desire: how and why we want, the challenge of knowing with certainty what we want . . . and the disruption caused by our societal compulsion to categorize.
TIFT’s small ensemble cast deliver performances of searing intensity. Jakob Ehman brings a palpable and touching vulnerability to John, capturing his wonder, fear and indecision. Michael Torontow is a nuanced M – shifting organically from controlling confidence and sardonic wit to haunted resignation and pleading despair. Tess Benger’s bright-eyed W brings a compelling blend of directness, warmth and assertiveness that challenge both John’s perceptions and the audience’s expectations. And finally, Kevin Bundy, as M’s father F, is an unexpected, formidable and funny presence in the climactic scenes of the play. His no-nonsense demeanor underscores both the comedy and the heartbreak of the generational and familial tensions at play.
Director Dylan Trowbridge’s visionary staging transforms the industrial venue into an arena of raw emotion, bounded at one end by transparent plastic screening that conjures a kill room on television’s Dexter. In Kathleen Black’s minimalist set, which is devoid of props, lighting is the sole visible differentiator of each new setting. And the actors trigger each lighting change by pressing a button with an audible click. This bare-bones approach lays bare both the artifice of theatre and the politics of attention. We look where John or M or W want us to. We see what they want us to. We know it’s not our choice . . . so should we accept it?
The spatial dynamics evoke the brutality of, natch, a cockfight. Audience members are seated in the round, in a single row. Two stools occupy the cardinal points of the circle, with benches at the ordinals, creating a circular battleground. As the characters sit – then move forward to engage . . . then retreat back to a stool, or shift to a bench . . . then jump up again to re-engage – the audience’s gaze follows. Bloodsport voyeurs watching a clandestine duel in a storage locker, we watch, we laugh, and we mentally wager on just how this fight will turn out.
Trowbridge is as much a combat choreographer as director, orchestrating a delicate dance that keeps the actors in motion and the audience off balance. The fluid transitions between scenes, achieved through those lighting shifts and the actors’ kinetic energy, blur the lines between reality and fiction. At the same time, countless key actions are verbally – but not physically – enacted. The absence of physicality – most remarkable and effective during a startlingly intense sex scene – place the emphasis on dialogue and intonation, plus audience imagination, to render the unseen visceral.
The play’s core conceit ultimately revolves around John’s struggle with identity. Is he gay, bisexual, or something beyond these labels? The production burrows deeply into the truth of these characters’ tangled needs and messy emotions – which are the subject and substance of so many of the words filling up the arena space. But at the same time, it asks whether these neat classifications are just constructs – as malleable as the staging itself. Indeed, in a society currently waging ugly, urgent battles over definitions, Cock challenges us to ponder the fluidity of desire and the futility of rigid labels.
And as the characters’ facades crumble and Jakob makes his final decision, Cock leaves us with a haunting question: in the arena of love and identity, are we all combatants – and if so, are we grappling with others, or with the reflections of ourselves that we see in their eyes?
The Toronto run of Cock continues at Artists Play Studio, Carlaw Industrial Centre until January 31, 2025 and returns April 5 – 20, 2025. Reserve tickets on tift.ca. TIFT’s production of Adam Meisner’s For Both Resting and Breeding also runs until January 31, 2025. Read our interview with Alexander Thomas here, and reserve tickets on tift.ca.
© Scott Sneddon, Sesaya Arts Magazine 2025
