★★½

“an interesting, if imperfect, examination of predatory twenty-first century masculinity held together by a strong performance”

Written and performed by Charlie Howard, Jock is an autobiographical piece recounting his experiences as a young student attempting to gain access into the hyper-masculine in-group of the university’s rugby team. The play explores the process by which some young men are attracted to binge drinking and misogynistic attitudes by the promise of becoming part of something bigger than themselves and fitting in with men who have seen and done this all before them.

Jock explores the protagonist’s journey from naïve initiate to seasoned group member passing a number of steps towards acceptance, including drinking challenges, casual sexual encounters, and humiliating rituals, eventually repeating the same patterns of cruelty on others that he had experienced himself, before a moment of shock leads to an emotional and medical crossroads. The move from naïveté to jaded experience represents growth for the character and the audience is brought along, although the autobiographical nature of the source material precludes the kind of truly shocking event that could act as a stronger transformational volta in a critique of toxic masculinity, beyond the aforementioned health issue, which is signposted at the outset of the play and does not immediately modify the protagonist’s behaviour.

Using a minimalist set of a bar, bar stool, some tables in the audience, and different lighting choices, the play revolves around Howard’s performance, which is very compelling. He inhabits characters beyond the protagonist, including an aloof doctor, various friends, and most memorably, an older ‘ugly man’ that encourages the hedonistic revelry of alcohol and sex, portrayed as a hunched caricature of neanderthal manhood. Each of these personas is brought vividly to life and moments of introspection or drunkenness for the protagonist are well performed, with each character believable.

With Ramiro Batista’s direction ensuring that Howard engages the entire room, his monologue is expressive and the interplay with the audience pushes against the boundaries of a one-man show. Audience members on tables in front of the stage – presumably the performer’s friends – are impelled to interact, they don fancy dress, do tequila shots, or assist in Howard chugging milk through a funnel. This natural interplay, which appeared partially improvised, provided genuinely funny moments that were exceptionally well received by the audience, the majority of whom seemed to know Howard.

However, as a result of this shared background between writer-actor and audience, at times Jock felt like being at a class reunion for a university you hadn’t attended, or a best man speech at a wedding of someone you don’t know. Many of the characters elicited uproarious responses from the audience, which I assume is due to the fact they were identifiable people, and there are jokes that we did not have the context to fully understand. Nevertheless, in his interactions with the audience, Howard’s charisma and charm is most clearly demonstrated, teasing performances out of his friends and improving the material as a result. It would be interesting to see this performance with a different audience to make a clearer assessment of the quality of the work, without the feeling that we were missing part of the joke.

Jock is an interesting, if imperfect, examination of predatory twenty-first century masculinity held together by a strong performance. It is at times very funny, capitalising on Howard’s skill as an actor, and the personal insights into the cyclical nature of abuse within sports teams are worthy but perhaps lack the depth to be truly profound.

STREET SONGS: A BUSKER’S TALE at the Golden Goose Theatre

★★★★

“a heart-warming show that gives many classic but over-played songs brilliant new meaning”

Buskers have been performing in public spaces since public spaces were invented. They are the backdrop to society. Too often taken for granted and now highly organised, most of the population pass them by – happy to snatch the fragment of music they hear to take home, without taking the time to appreciate the anonymous figures that colour their daily commute. “Street Songs – A Busker’s Tale” opens up that world in writer Brett Snelgrove’s and director Lawrence Carmichael’s bittersweet drama-comedy about two street musicians.

It is a canny collaboration that unites the gritty reminiscences of Carmichael’s busking days with the raw emotion of Snelgrove’s father’s battle with cancer. Two subject matters that seem far apart yet somehow work together seamlessly. Full of contrast, it is a simultaneously contemporary yet with the feel of a period piece. Ollie West is Jamie – the archetypal busker of three decades ago. His song list is even older than that – after all he is playing his late father’s (also a busker in his own time) set list. Songs for a rainy day, songs for summer; for the morning rush hour or for the lunch break. There is a description of how the timeless and alternative craft of busking has become homogenised on London’s Underground network since its legalisation; having to audition for a licence. West’s beautifully humorous and self-deprecating monologue illustrates the bizarre incongruity of ill-placed authoritative figures trying to layer control on an activity that is as old and free as the hills. Following his failed audition, Jamie is pushed out from the tunnels, and surfaces overground to where ‘The Streets Have No Name’.

Anonymously and largely ignored, he plies his trade. While he sings, behind him a girl sets up her improvised drum kit: a decaying collection of upturned bins, bottle crates, pans, bottles and saucepans. With brushes and sticks, Joy Wright – as bucket drummer Charlie – strikes the rhythm of the piece with understated timing, pounding away to get to our hero’s heart. But not without initial conflict as a turf war flares, then simmers down into philosophical debate. ‘Who are you here for?’ she asks. Because the public don’t care, and they can smell Jamie’s diffidence with feral savagery. ‘If you’re not here for them – they know it!’

The pair eventually form a double-act and are invited to play a corporate gig in an art gallery which chills them like fingernails on a chalkboard. So, it’s back to the streets; treading the same ground but now with a different perspective. Their relationship with the music has changed, and Snelgrove’s writing, and the actors’ performances, reach a new level of emotion. Charlie opens up with an honesty and authenticity that is candidly moving, while Jamie begins to accept that life doesn’t need to grind to a halt.

This isn’t just a busker’s tale. It is, at heart, a story about grief, a story about learning to drift from solo to duo. Carmichael’s stripped back staging is quite ramshackle, but it mirrors the bric-a-brac that these misfits stash away in their minds. Wright is utterly convincing as Charlie; streetwise and abrasively rough around the edges, yet one whose combative shell conceals a vulnerable and generous heart. West, as Jamie, masterfully navigates the helter-skelter of emotions spinning from Snelgrove’s text. The singing may not be top notch, but it reflects the tone of the piece perfectly. And the poignancy frequently gives way to moments of humour. A German rendition of ‘Mad World’ is hilarious, while ‘Sound of Silence’ thunders along in a punk/rockabilly mash-up. The comedy and the pathos form a wonderful and extraordinary alliance, personified by Rag ‘n’ Bone Man’s ‘Human’ that forms a leitmotif, winkingly reminding us of our failings.

Evocative and personal, this busker’s tale winds its way from the underground to the streets, up to the gallery – and into a world that doesn’t care. Written with integrity and respect for its subject matter and characters we, however, cannot fail to care. That it is based on, and dedicated to, Snelgrove’s own father adds candour. Damien Rice’s ‘Older Chest’ is sung by West with a sadness that belies his acknowledgement that grief can be controlled after all. The character’s memories are still the same, but they now take on a different flavour – like reinterpreting a song. As we reach the finale, Jamie turns to James Blunt’s ‘Monsters’ – a love song to a dying father. ‘It’s my turn to chase the monsters away’. We may be listening to Blunt’s lyrics, but it is West’s natural and unsentimental portrayal that gives the words their real depth. “Street Songs – A Busker’s Tale” is a heart-warming show that gives many classic but over-played songs brilliant new meaning

Tag Archives: Golden Goose Theatre

JOCK

★★½

Golden Goose Theatre

JOCK at the Golden Goose Theatre

★★½

“an interesting, if imperfect, examination of predatory twenty-first century masculinity held together by a strong performance”

JOCK at the Golden Goose Theatre

Reviewed on 20th June 2024

by Rob Tomlinson

Previously reviewed at this venue:

STREET SONGS: A BUSKER’S TALE | ★★★★ | April 2024

WHAT I REALLY THINK OF MY HUSBAND | ★★★ | November 2023

STRANGERS IN BETWEEN | ★★★★ | September 2023

JOCK

JOCK

Click here to see our Recommended Shows page

STREET SONGS: A BUSKER’S TALE

★★★★

Golden Goose Theatre

STREET SONGS: A BUSKER’S TALE at the Golden Goose Theatre

★★★★

“a heart-warming show that gives many classic but over-played songs brilliant new meaning”