There’s been a frenzy of hype around Sam Grabiner’s debut play ‘Boys on the Verge of Tears’. It was the recipient of the prestigious Verity Bargate Award last year, and has found vocal support from big name playwrights Lucy Kirkwood and April de Angelis. But, the real attraction comes in the form of the director James Macdonald: a real industry legend, known for his work with the likes of Sarah Kane and Annie Baker. It is pretty remarkable that he’s take on what is in effect a fringe play – everything seems set for Grabiner to be something special.
Short answer – he is. Set exclusively in a public toilet, with five main actors and over 50 characters, Grabiner has created an intimate study of men and boys, their potential for violence and pain. Following a rough chronology from boyhood to old age, with no break between the changing scenes, men from all walks of life flow in and out of the cubicles – sometimes pausing for conversation, to assess their appearance or for a second of solitude to take a breath.
Although open to the world, the toilets feel like a place of private sanctuary: a home for lost, lonely children at birthday parties or a place for teenagers to get ready for the school disco. The door to the outside has the potential to swing open in an instant, but inside there is the sense of everything stopping. This is a space of confession, connection and frustration, somehow cut off from the rest of life.
Yet, the potential for danger and cruelty is ever present. Fights break out, teenage boys make rape jokes, desperate attempts to impress their peers. Emotion is held back, even after discussions about death or physical attacks, but it is always there. Grabiner has mastered the art of writing wrenching feelings, without necessarily having to show them.
The main cast of five actors – Matthew Beard, David Carlyle, Calvin Demba, Tom Espiner and Maanuv Thiara transform from one character to the next with plausibility and apparent ease. With each metamorphosis comes a new understanding of masculinity, but it is the busy scenes that best prove Grabiner’s unique talent as an observational writer.
Sixth formers gather by the sinks to rip it out of one another and plan big weekends of drinking. Shielded from the ears of adults, the boys feel safe to tell stories of ‘magic’ sex that unravel into horrific tales of sexual assault without consent. At a techno night, men grab onto one another for photographs and tell tales of times they fell in love with strangers on the tube, while one bleeding man remains largely invisible. Under Macdonald’s direction, we see a swirling blend of men – all grappling with the question of what it means to be a man.
There are layers missing. We hear little of the men’s work live or sexualities, but the genius of Grabiner’s setting is that it provides an answer. A toilet can’t control who enters its door and we’d need days to meet every single user. ‘Boys on the Verge of Tears’ could be expanded into an anthology, but right now it is just a tiny, tragic and beautiful glimpse into a public toilet's secrets.
