The diabolical consequences of a boy’s night gone horribly wrong – that’s the premise of The Boys’ Club, a disturbing and eye-catching world premiere, written and directed by Thomas Ian Doyle.
These are a bunch of cement workers in a testosterone-rich environment together for a warehouse party that the boss has splashed out $6k for – $6k that is spent on pills and powder. For an additional $2k, they have also engaged the services of a sexy prostitute in a red teddy outfit. And boy, do the guys get wasted and then some! The next thing you know they are all naked, as is the hooker. Unfortunately though, there is far more to it than that. She is not only nude, but dead with vomit over her chest. Naturally, there is blind panic and the lads make a pact at the instigation of the boss, who is also present, to cover up what has happened. In other words, no cops will be called and they will dispose of the body in due course.
All this happens at breakneck speed, in a matter of minutes, and then there are the far-reaching consequences, consequences that are the stuff of nightmares. The action unfolds in the form of a series of short, sharp and powerful vignettes, between which there is momentary darkness. It works and works well. A dramatic and rhythmic electronic drumbeat, oft repeated, is a pointer to the alarm that awaits.
The set consists of an old wooden table, underneath which rubbish is strewn, a bar fridge and a mid brown coloured three-seater couch that has seen better days … just like the young men who will never live down what they have done. For, make no mistake, they have raped the whore and plied her with drugs and she has overdosed.
I have seen quite a few of Doyle’s plays and I never cease to be amazed at his prolific output and his ability to create potent storylines and characters … and so too here. The inspiration for this one was a simple but evocative real life moment. It came from “the roar” that erupted when “a prossie” who had been hired for the night walked in to an adjacent business to The Owl and Cat for a warehouse party. Doyle cast the actors and wrote the narrative over a period of weeks, sending through the scenes as he developed them. Then they would rehearse.
This is a script where the element of surprise is paramount and there are, indeed, a number of shocks and twists. It is pacey and pulsating, intriguing and engaging … and decidedly dark ensemble piece. 70 minutes without interval, The Boys Club is theatre on the edge with a cast of 11, including four women. The language is, at times, understandably and suitably raw, there is a simulated sex scene along with nudity, violence and the equivalent of strobe lighting at one point.
Next time you decide to tie one on with a few mates and a lady of the night, you may reflect upon just what could happen if your exuberance turns nasty. The Boys’ Club is on at The Owl and Cat Theatre in Swan Street, Richmond until 23rd April.
Alex First
David Edwards is the editor of The Blurb and a contributor on film and television