Review by Liz Baldwin
‘Boys on the Verge of Tears’, a new production by the team behind ‘Trophy Boys’, is ambitious. Set entirely within the confines of a men’s public bathroom, it comprises a series of vignettes that travel the length and breadth of men’s lifetimes. It’s an ambitious task, to create real emotion and progression in a confined environment, with five actors. It makes for a slightly jagged, uneven experience that had some moments of poignancy, but sometimes left me wanting more.
The play, written by Sam Grabiner and directed by Keegan Bragg, opens with a father teaching his young son to use the bathroom. His impulses towards kindness are lost to his impatience and ingrained disdain. But the poignancy of the scene is lost with the son’s overwritten lines, which play heavily on self-awareness and confected barbs, never capturing a child’s authentic voice.
Some scenes land more effectively. Karl Richmond and Damon Baudin are moving as two naive primary school boys who become fast friends. The scene nods toward the threat of trauma but veers, letting these two escape innocent, for now. A scene with five high school boys, all desperate to prove their macho chops and fit in, is also powerful, in its depiction of the fine lines between aggression and friendship at this young age.
The longest interlude, and the play’s climax, is in a nightclub bathroom. Akeel Purmanund is excellent as a young man who is the victim of violence but struggles to identify his pain and ask for help. His wash-basin confessions about the subtle censures that shut down his early explorations of queerness were heart-wrenching.
All five actors — Richmond, Baudin, Purmanund, Ben Walter, and Justin Hocking – display remarkable flexibility, convincingly embodying over 45 characters over the course of the nearly two-hour runtime.
This episodic structure has both strengths and limitations. It offers glimpses into varied male experiences but sometimes leaves the play feeling one-note – there are fewer lighter, breathable moments, as every scene demands fresh stakes. And it limits the ability for character development or resolution, leaving unanswered questions about how these same boys might evolve into emotionally mature men.
The bathroom set - outstandingly crafted by scenic artist Louisa Fitzgerald - is dirty and close. The audience enters the space through the stall doors, navigating around the cubicles that characters later retreat to in embarrassment, escape, or even quiet dignity. The actors make full use of the space in this evocative set, prowling around the central wash basins, slamming each other against the graffitied tiles, and detrousering at the urinal.
"Boys on the Verge of Tears" arrives at a crucial cultural moment when traditional notions of masculinity are being interrogated. This work invites audiences to witness the painful process of human beings struggling within gendered expectations. The play makes a vital contribution to this conversation, not by offering solutions but by compassionately revealing masculinity's contradictions.
