MEN
MEN, Red Line Productions at the Old Fitz, 30 June-25 July 2015. Photography by Marnya Rothe, above: Sean Hawkins, Jamie Timony, Ben O’Toole and Cheree Cassidy; right: Sean Hawkins and Ben O’Toole.
Some fifteen years ago when he was just 23, Brendan Cowell was up and coming, bursting onto the scene as a scarily powerful and intelligent actor. And then suddenly, he was also a writer, with this short, sharp, scarily powerful play about men and their efforts and painful desire to communicate – with lovers, friends and ultimately, with themselves.
In the years since the first production of Men (at the Old Fitzroy as was), Cowell has continued to grapple with that theme, one way or another, both as a writer – culminating in the mature and startling Ruben Guthrie in (2009, Belvoir Downstairs) – and as an actor, most notably in his playing of Hamlet (2008, Bell Shakespeare Company). So it’s interesting to see his first play again, and through the eyes of a new generation of actors and a young female director, Jessica Tuckwell.
Although they have names – Jules (Sean Hawkins), Crazy Bob (Ben O’Toole) and Guy (Jamie Timony) – the men are also masculine archetypes with all the preoccupations and worries of the modern male. In short, their cares are lodged in dreams of the perfect girl, the Me-Me-Me egomaniac who would finally come to full flower as Ruben Guthrie; and the disconcertingly sane insanity of the crazy Bob who thinks, hopelessly, of nothing but sex.
So far, so normal. The western norm of male dysfunction, that is. And tragically, little has changed since Cowell wrote Men, and what is different is much, much worse. (Think of the horrific domestic violence statistics and the numbers on male depression, alcohol and drug problems and suicide.)
So, although it’s rough as guts and very much a first work, as played out by this company and director in responding truthfully to the sharply observed and unsentimental light of Cowell’s world view, Men is still a valuable meditation (albeit loud, profane and unforgiving) on the condition of 49% of the population and its impact on the other 51%.
Hawkins, O’Toole and Timony – with the inverted muse presence of Haizel (Cheree Cassidy) – are in a wild but well understood place. It’s funny in a way that makes you gasp; violent in a way that makes you laugh and honest in a way that is still hard to grapple with in this second decade of a century in which male inadequacy and violence have crashed and melded so badly that no one is ready or able to decipher the signs. But Brendan Cowell continues to explore and try. For that alone this production and this play are more than worth attention and praise.
