”Animal” at the Park Theatre – review

In common with many young men, David (Christopher John-Slater) thinks a lot about sex. But his desires are hampered by his condition, so when flatmate Jill (Amy Loughton) suggests he turn to Grindr for help, he begins a series of casual gay encounters that soon become habitual.

Written by Jon Bradfield, known for his riotous adult pantomimes at Above The Stag, from an idea by Josh Hepple, the early exchanges have a sitcom feel. David’s rotating team of assistants, which includes struggling actor Derek (Matt Ayleigh) and flamboyant Mani (Harry Singh), provide many of the biggest laughs as they regale him with stories from the outside world (such as Derek’s description of auditioning for a production of Ray Cooney’s Run for Your Wife set in Iraq).

But it’s this barrier between the outside and David’s home, where the action is set, that is key to his frustration. John-Slater’s performance eloquently captures the life of a man who is desperate to express himself. In one especially poignant scene he goes on a date with the dreamy Liam (Joshua Liburd) only to find himself stuck on a train with no help in sight. In a society that still has such poor accessibility, is it any wonder he feels alienated?

Despite its many qualities, the production feels overstretched, running to two and a half hours, and at times allows the dramatic and comic tension that’s built up to leak like the air out of a balloon. Part of the issue is the sheer profusion of characters, which means some get short shrift. The introduction of David’s dad (William Oxborrow – who neatly doubles as a number of older dates) comes late in proceedings and feels like a missed opportunity.

Bronagh Lagan’s lucid production certainly isn’t short on visual flair. Gregor Donnelly’s apartment set neatly incorporates projections (designed by Matt Powell) showing various texts and Grindr interactions, while Julian Starr’s soundscape injects some invigorating bursts of techno. It’s also worth noting that the sex scenes, of which there are many – one of them a harrowing moment of abuse – are sensitively choreographed by intimacy director Robbie Taylor-Hunt.

There is undoubtedly the germ of something very special here. This is largely due to the fact that in David, Bradfield, Hepple and John-Slater have created a character who is much bigger than his condition. He’s charming, darkly comic (“suck a cock for me,” he shouts as Mani heads out clubbing), and in the end deeply problematic. But some further refinement is needed for his story to find its full expression.