★★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.

MARGARET LENG TAN: DRAGON LADIES DON’T WEEP at the Queen Elizabeth Hall

★★★★

“when the otherworldly music is allowed to flourish, the piece achieves some truly transcendent moments”

Dragon Ladies Don’t Weep is a musical autobiography of renowned Singaporean avant-garde pianist and multi-instrumentalist Margaret Leng Tan. A meditation on music and loss, the piece is an experimental one-woman show that seamlessly blends elements of biographical monologue, musical concert and performance art, written by ‘dramaturg’ Kok Heng Leun using text from Tan’s diaries and recollections. Tan, a long-time collaborator of seminal American composer John Cage, channels all the experience of her six-decade career, which began when she entered New York’s Julliard School of Music at the age of sixteen, to produce a compelling and original performance.

Naturally, music is central, serving as catalyst and accompaniment for the recounting of some pivotal experiences of Tan’s life. Using the innovative instruments for which she is known, Tan creates a dynamic sonic palette that ripples throughout the performance, reaching instances of real beauty. Alongside a grand piano that she modifies on stage by placing nuts and bolts between the strings to produce a bell-like tone, she employs a child’s toy piano – her trademark – as well as the triangle, melodica, cymbals, and wind-up music boxes. The music made on stage transfers from the live instruments to a recorded soundtrack, allowing the solo performer to weave layered soundscapes throughout the show, performing music by composer Erik Griswold.

The staging is relatively spare, director Tamara Saulwick working with just the instruments, the performer and two visible displays, a larger screen upstage right and a central vertical column onto which patterns, and, occasionally text, is projected. Much as toy instruments are used to create ethereal music, from this minimalist set comes a fascinating visual spectacle. Video projections (Nick Roux) interpret the live musical performance and are central to the success of the work: intricate solo piano pieces elicit a moving tapestry of lines that teasingly form perfect shapes before quickly dissipating, defying our desire for patterns as the music subverts our expectations of obvious melodies. In one particularly effective passage, Tan uses multiple music boxes to recall her first meeting with Cage, when twenty Julliard pianists simultaneously played his composition ‘Winter’. She remembers how it sounded to her like melting icicles, and this description is reflected through projections that evoke dripping ice.

Dragon Ladies Don’t Weep is marked by the absence of two guiding figures in Tan’s life, her mother and Cage, who are recalled both through her descriptions of them and video appearances on the screens. These images are ephemeral: footage of Cage and Tan in conversation has its audio unsynchronised, and a video apparition of her mother becomes clearer and fades with swells of music, suggesting that while art may bring us closer to the memory of those we love, it will never return them to us. This sense of loss is deeply affecting, as the work considers the transience of life and the imperfection of memory.

Some of the spoken passages, despite allowing Tan to demonstrate her wry sense of humour, are a little flat, including a lamentation on the predominance of mobile phones in contemporary society which feels particularly ill-fitting. These sections are brief, however, and, when the otherworldly music is allowed to flourish, the piece achieves some truly transcendent moments, illustrating why Margaret Leng Tan is such an important figure in twentieth-century music and beyond. When combining music and the personal experiences of the performer, the piece is at its best, dragon ladies may not weep but they are not unfeeling.

Tag Archives: Rob Tomlinson

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

MARGARET LENG TAN: DRAGON LADIES DON’T WEEP

★★★★

Queen Elizabeth Hall

MARGARET LENG TAN: DRAGON LADIES DON’T WEEP at the Queen Elizabeth Hall

★★★★

“when the otherworldly music is allowed to flourish, the piece achieves some truly transcendent moments”