★★★★

“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.

SPENCER JONES: MAKING FRIENDS at the Soho Theatre

★★★★

“a delightfully silly hour with real heart, and the most representative chicken-owning experience I have ever seen on stage”

The more time passes since the pandemic, the rarer you see the topic is raised on stage. Four years on, I was a bit hesitant to be reminded of lockdown induced madness in Making Friends, though to give Spencer Jones’ credit, this seems to have developed into a more permanent state thanks to a move to Devon.

The show is a stand up hour of musical comedy that reflects on Jones’ attempts to find connection, at first with his kids, then animals, then the other blokes in the village. It is structured around a number of tracks he produces live through clever looping and vocal effects. These lean heavily into surrealism, featuring an entertaining cast of potential friends (mostly puppets and false teeth) Jones has created in his garage. They stay on the right side of sectionable to be funny throughout.

Spencer plays the part of home-bound harried dad well, dressed in a red velvet dressing gown, socks and a rainbow sweatband. To dial up the ridiculousness, there’s a foam tube that becomes a shoulder pad, and a black plastic bag from an off licence has a brief but memorable role.

You’ll recognise Spencer Jones from recurring character roles on programmes like Upstart Crow, Ted Lasso, and The Mind of Herbert Clunkerdunk. He is great at adopting a slight change to expression, posture and accent to create a caricature of someone ordinary but instantly recognisable. I particularly enjoyed Jones’ portrayal of a number of west country locals and their dentistry. I can vouch for their accuracy: one of them could well be my Grandad Norman.

“There are a surplus of other ideas that feel played to their full potential in this versatile and high-energy hour.”

A number of props and puppetry devices are strewn messily over the small Soho Downstairs stage like we are walking into Jones’ garage. He bounces around between the mixing deck, cardboard portraits, a guitar, and papier mache masks and heads. On the whole these are enjoyably chaotic, but occasionally some of the interloper characters are too brief and deflate a couple of jokes; there’s a neon crocodile that went entirely over my head. An aside about soup also fell a little flat after audience interactions went left field and a section about Siri also felt underdeveloped. However, what I at first assumed to be an udder turned out to be something much funnier. In many ways I’m impressed with the commitment to what must have been hours with paper and glue for a single pay off.

The through line centres around the acquisition of a number of chickens, who very literally introduce Jones to the concept of pecking order. As a non-Londoner I have sad memories of childhood hens turning against me with painful consequences, and Spencer recreates this betrayal accurately.

There are a surplus of other ideas that feel played to their full potential in this versatile and high-energy hour. The guitar, like Chekhov’s gun, foreshadows a sad indie man finale that delivers on the underwhelming beta maleness at the heart of this show. It also really gets the spirit of my favourite housemate (my dad) during the pandemic.

At the end of the show, Jones announces another house move which feels like it is medically prescribed. It’s a timely reminder that Rightmove does not have all the answers, and that is frankly a public service. Ultimately, Making Friends is a delightfully silly hour with real heart, and the most representative chicken-owning experience I have ever seen on stage.

BOYS ON THE VERGE OF TEARS at the Soho Theatre

★★★★

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

BOYS ON THE VERGE OF TEARS at the Soho Theatre

Reviewed on 18th April 2024

by Jessica Potts

Photography by Marc Brenner

Previously reviewed at this venue:

BOYS ON THE VERGE OF TEARS

BOYS ON THE VERGE OF TEARS

SPENCER JONES: MAKING FRIENDS at the Soho Theatre

★★★★

“a delightfully silly hour with real heart, and the most representative chicken-owning experience I have ever seen on stage”

“There are a surplus of other ideas that feel played to their full potential in this versatile and high-energy hour.”

SPENCER JONES: MAKING FRIENDS at the Soho Theatre

Reviewed on 11th April 2024

by Rosie Thomas

Previously reviewed at this venue:

SPENCER JONES

SPENCER JONES