BOYS ON THE VERGE OF TEARS at the Soho Theatre

★★★★

“the ensemble takes the audience through violence, turmoil and tenderness”

We open to a startling flash of light burnishing a grimy public lavatory as a small but mighty voice coming from a cubicle proclaims “I don’t need any help” to his exasperated father. Boys on the Verge of Tears is an exploration of masculinity from learning to pee in the toilet to emptying a colostomy bag; always defiantly rejecting help from others.

This striking debut by Sam Grabiner, winner of the Verity Bargate Award, confronts its subject through a series of sketches featuring a plethora of characters representing brands of man. Each scene is self-contained with episodes rolling into each other continuously. The costumes aid this tremendously (I want that rotary phone handbag desperately!) with some impressive quick-changes occurring as the merry-go-round of manhood turns (Ashley Martin-Davis). The bathroom deteriorates over the course of the show, picking up bruises and graffiti whilst containing some well executed surprises (Ashley Martin-Davis).

The cast depict giggling children, disturbing teenagers and glamourous drag queens with heart and variation. Highlights include the troubled but eerily realistic Jack (Matthew Beard), bitchy queen Maureen (David Carlyle) who showed extraordinary range throughout, frightened and vulnerable Jo (Calvin Demba) whose performance gave power to the play’s ideas, world weary Santa Claus (Tom Espiner) and mischievous but adorable Zaid (Maanuv Thiara). Directed by James Macdonald, the ensemble takes the audience through violence, turmoil and tenderness between men, with clear commentary on needing more of the latter. There are moments when characters evoke other iterations; “it was absurd” being said by two men with sexist attitudes towards women, but manifesting it differently. The group scenes feel very naturalistic and accurate, instigating the occasional shudder of teenage memories. The ensemble have brilliant chemistry and comradery.

The play has no main character and a relatively loose structure. Characters catch brief glimpses of the future as scenes merge into one another. Whilst allowing for more abstract explorations of masculinity it also prevented further depth being explored. We meet these men for mere moments, barely scratching their surface, evoking loneliness and shallowness. Chekov’s gun is cocked, but never fired in the form of a knife that is introduced and not really used, perhaps to subvert expectations, but also feels disjointed. On occasion, there were too many interruptions of minor characters which broke moments of tension, and some scenes lacked resolution, ending abruptly. The jump between the chaos of the night life sequence to palliative care felt reductive and cliché of a lifetime; surely there are more midlife experiences to draw on? Is masculinity really about fighting and clubbing then fatherhood and death? Perhaps I reveal my own naiveté to this suggestion…maybe it is? Boys on the Verge of Tears asks why men refuse help from each other and how men’s bodies can be destructive and vulnerable in all their beauty and strength.