Premiering in 2009, Mike Bartlett's COCK was a comic revelation, exploring notions about fluidity and sexual labelling long before they became commonplace discussions. Granted, conversations about these issues will always have relevance.
But COCK now works—in a significant way—as an exploration of the emotional confusions and massive dysfunctions that occur in relations between couples and, as illustrated by the character of John here, within one's self, as well. That the title sub-textually references a cockfight, with two of Bartlett's warring creations squaring off against each other, also rings true in Open Space Art's current, passionately-produced production of the show.
Fueled by what seems to be a seven-year itch, the above-mentioned John ends his longstanding relationship with M, his financially secure male partner. John, much to his surprise, soon falls into a legitimately connective and earnestly sexual relationship with a woman identified solely as W. Torn between these two loves, John eventually returns to M while still continuing his affair with W.
A dinner meeting between the three parties is eventually proposed, with the flighty John assuring each contender that they will be his ultimate choice as a life partner. The evening arrives, with a nervous M inviting his father to the gathering for support. As arguments are presented and passions erupt, John still seems unable to fully choose a life with either lover, indicating a selfishly disturbing denouement for all parties involved.
The intimate nature of the Open Arts Spacenicely itself adds a singular quality to this viewing experience. Functioning like a well-lit basement rec room, the audience members are separated from the performers by mere inches. A thin circle of red masking tape is all that outlines the performing area. These unique circumstances add a visceral thrill, allowing attendees to not only see each other clearly, but making them feel like they are truly a part of the action of the play. It is theater at its most basic and primal. Thus, director Wren Wesner wisely concentrates on the performances to make up for any lack of sophisticated production wizardry.
The performers themselves are exemplary. Granted, one of the script's disadvantages is that it is almost impossible for John to come off as sympathetic and for M & W's reasons for remaining with him to be understood without judgement. Even magnetic celebrities like Taron Egerton and Jonathan Bailey, who starred in a popular West End revival of the show in 2022, couldn't completely pull off that feat. Yet this fine ensemble comes as close as they possibly can to doing so.
Kevin Woodrow brings a tart humor to M, but is also equally skilled at showing the deep pain that his character is feeling during this completely unplanned for situation. Sonya Robinson's W radiates with joyous light, presenting reason and simple strength even in the show's most awkward moments. Making a late appearance as F, Michael Lomenick succeeds in bringing a true sense of parental pride and familial love to the proceedings.
Eliot Hall, meanwhile, brings a layered dexterity to John. Hall illustrates, both physically and vocally, John's life altering struggle. It is a truly compassionate take on a character that is so internal that he cannot see the pain that he is causing others. Ultimately, if we cannot fully sympathize with him, we can recognize our own lives in Hall's complicated performance. If we haven't wavered ourselves, others in our personal spheres have. Those shared, universal emotions are what make the performing arts, and this production in particular, such a vital part of our existence as a whole.
COCK runs through April 21 at Open Space Arts, 1411 W. Wilson Ave. More information is available at www.openspacearts.org .
