Thursday, August 13, 2015
'Fucking Men' at the King's Head Theatre, 12th August 2015
Fucking Men is the epitome of a Ronseal play - it does exactly what it says on the tin. Within the four walls of the King's Head Theatre, ten toned bodies jostle each other. Opening with a curious soldier getting his dick sucked by a male prostitute, we journey along a daisychain of rimming, ramming and mutual masturbation. This ultimately forms ten duologues; we meet a new character, who goes into the next scene and meets a new character and so on until we've looped right back where we began. It's a journey takes us from a street corner to a student's halls of accommodation, to glitzy hotel rooms and back-stage broom cupboards and so on and so forth.
First things first, if you like ogling buff, pretty men without any clothes on then boy is this the play for you. Whether they're chilling out with a tiny towel teasingly dangling over their crotch, frotting up against one another or simply coquettishly shoving a hand down their designer boxers, this is a play stuffed with straight-up sexy dudes.
I've got to admit, the thought did strike me that all this lasciviousness is pandering just a teeny-weeny bit. But it's hard to argue with Fucking Men's unashamed and refreshingly sex-positivity. Buried deep within most Western fiction is a core of nagging Christian guilt that whispers that casually getting your rocks off is inherently shameful. Fucking Men says nuts to that, arguing that bodily intimacy is transferring kindness between people.
Each entwined pair comes with different power dynamics, young/old, rich/poor, successful/unsuccessful and so on. But despite their social differences it's their humanity that binds them together, sex acting as the ultimate social leveller. Let's face it, it's hard to be snobbily aloof when you've got a dick buried in your arse.
Fucking Men ends up being so convincingly evangelical about how awesome gay sex is that it half makes you want to pop on a crop-top and denim hot pants and hail a taxi to Soho. Problem is (obviously) sexuality isn't as simple as being won over by an argument. So, for hetero audience members, there's a sense of gazing enviously from the sidelines - something not helped by infrequent jabs at how boring and conventional straight sex is.
It's not all happy fun times though, a dark side in amongst all the slap and tickle. HIV rears its head a couple of times, though the play sensibly and practically approaches the subject. Self-loathing also pops up in sequences involving closeted men who can't admit their true desires, often bubbling over into violence. More delicately, the play addresses the psychological complications of promiscuity: the strain it puts on an open relationship, a nagging post-coital hollowness and a sense that you're commodifying human beings and yourself.
Though for the most part spikily quick-witted, these undertones grant the play pathos, which all eventually builds towards a movingly sincere sequence where a man grieves for a lost love. Here you reflect on the preceding scenes; the climax espousing the benefits of support, commitment and mutual long-term affection.
All that makes Fucking Men a worthwhile piece of theatre, putting themes that more timid playwrights might shy away from front and centre. This actual production, on the other hand, has a few patchy moments that stall it somewhat. Prime among these are some seriously uneven performances; highlights of the show are Richard Stemp, Darren Bransford and Richard de Lisle - each of whom infuse their brief roles with character and depth. This makes the less successful performances stand out so much more - Harper James' curious soldier suffering from a wandering accent and stilted delivery, and Johnathan Neale's closeted filmstar morelike a caricature. There is, intermittently, the suspicion that casting was more focussed on abdominal definition than acting skill.
Also unfortunate is the lack of racial diversity in the cast. Fucking Men aims to offer a variety of perspectives on contemporary gay life, yet the absence of (for example) a black perspective feels like a crucial oversight, and one that'd have added a further layer of depth to a play that occasionally feels a tiny bit frothy.
That said, Fucking Men is hands down the best play about gay sex I've ever seen. It offers a pleasantly mature perspective on sexuality without heavy-handed moralising, and thus is an easy recommendation.
★★★★
Fucking Men is at the King's Head Theatre until 30 August. Tickets here.
Tags:
fucking Men ,
gay ,
homosexuality ,
king's head theatre ,
play ,
theatre
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