By Ellie Dean
Picture this: you’re trapped in your favourite least favourite club on queer night. It’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone—perhaps a bit too well.
You’re either imagining the nightmare I had last night, or the set-up for Doghouse. It’s a hilarious new farce written by Sidonie de la Cœur, directed by Sam Weldon, produced by Jack Bell, and set entirely in a nightclub’s grotty all-gender bathroom.
Piling into the tiny 75-seat theatre at the Motley Bauhaus, the audience was treated to a stage design that truly captured the grimey vibe of the play’s setting. With one rickety toilet cubicle, loo paper everywhere and some impressively imaginative graffiti, the space was transformed into a picture-perfect recreation of a typical club bathroom. The only thing missing, thankfully, was the smell.
The space was very effectively used. As mentioned, the theatre was small, but being so close to the stage (and everyone else around) brought us into the show’s world. It’s also worth giving a nod to the sound design talents of Anthony Carr, who created a steady outpouring of believable club music that set the tone of the show without overwhelming the play’s actual dialogue. Gracie Dephoff found a similar sweet spot in their lighting design, dimming things just enough to soften the harsh brick background of the stage whilst keeping them bright enough for the audience to discern what was actually going on. The lighting changes were few, but intentional, and when they did occur, they were extremely effective.
It’s a good thing that the audience could see what was going on, as the five leads made a fantastic ensemble. Gideon Cohen’s Reuben opened the show, sashaying onstage and scrawling the club’s name onto the bathroom mirror in lipstick with a poise and confidence that prefaced a dramatically increasing sloppiness as the night wore on. He is soon joined onstage by the formidably funny Stevie McKeon as the expertly bitchy Jade to discuss the night’s dilemma: Reuben’s very recent ex Denis (Noah Janssen) happens to be at the club too. And not only that—he’s also invited his brand new, uncomfortably sober and straight girlfriend Kate (Indigo Howland). Also thrown into the mix is Charlie (Daisy Calnin), a nervous first time clubber who knows Jade from highschool and works with Reuben. It’s the first time Jade and Charlie have seen each other since graduating, and the first time Jade’s seen them since they came out as trans. The situation is awkward, made worse by the fact that Charlie’s harbouring some ill-disguised feelings for Jade and has also made the unfortunate mistake of dropping acid for the first time.
In another production, opening a play and plunging the audience into the thick of all of these intricate interconnecting relationships over what is essentially one conversation might have run the risk of egregious exposition. But the sharp tone of de la Cœur’s writing, the skill of Weldon’s direction and the charisma of the cast make it work. Establishing early on just how everyone knows each other allows the play to tap into the claustrophobia of the queer social scene. It is, of course, not long before the sword of Damocles drops, and exes Denis and Reuben run into each other. And when that finally happened, the audience was a mixture of laughter and knowing sympathetic groans.
From then on, the play continues as the characters cycle in and out of the bathroom alternatingly. There are glimpses of the developments of the night through their conversations—it’s the space where the characters come to gossip about their night, clean themselves up, or hide from awkward social situations. Much of the humour also comes from the way that the show’s set location provides a bird’s-eye view of their interactions with each other. In one scene, Reuben talks extensively and emphatically to Jade about how much he resents Denis for their breakup. In the next, Denis tells Jade how glad he is that he and Reuben are on such good terms. As the night continues, the carefully curated social ecosystem falls to pieces, and the group is eventually forced to confront their own true feelings about each other.
Denis is an interesting character. Janssen successfully embodies the shallowness of a guy both succinctly annoying and profoundly believable. But there’s moments of vulnerability that show us another side, too. Despite his general fuckboy vibe, he’s the first to comfort the afflicted when things go wrong and his friends go too hard.
And the group does go hard. Popping, drinking and snorting their way through the night, drugs are a comedic device—but also the inevitable cause of the group’s problems. Jade needs to be taken home. Charlie’s acid trip goes bad. Reuben has a graphic nosebleed onstage, passes out in the club and has to sneak back in through the bathroom. It’s a theme that’s complicated in the play and in the wider contexts of queer and clubbing cultures. By not shying away from graphic depictions, Doghouse manages to capture these complexities with comedic honesty whilst also avoiding preaching any moral judgements.
Other complicated elements of the queer social scene are just as skillfully lampooned. When Charlie corrects Jade after she accidentally deadnames them, her apology is over-the-top, drawn out and dramatic. Later, she makes a big deal about how ‘pretty’ they look with their new short hair, and their discomfort is obvious to everyone but her. Charlie’s own ill-fated acid trip is a perfect exploitation of schadenfreude—the joy from someone else’s pain. Calnin consistently managed to communicate just enough discomfort and dread to be hilarious, but always without going too far and making the audience feel like terrible people for laughing at it. Once again, though, room is found for nuance, and there’s some genuinely affective moments of emotional turbulence that showcase their strength and versatility as an actor.
Doghouse is funny. It’s accurate in what it’s portraying, hilarious in the ways that it does it, and showcases some serious talent both onstage and off. If there’s one criticism I have, it’s that at times it might’ve been just a little too painfully accurate to comfortably watch. It’s true that it speaks to a niche audience—but it does it so well and with such articulate humour that it becomes the show’s strength, instead of its weakness. And if you don’t believe me, then perhaps you can look at its sold out run. Pure, iconic mayhem.
Sidonie de la Coeur‘s Doghouse ran October 10th to 15th at the Motley Bauhaus’ Black Box Theatre as part of the 2022 Melbourne Fringe Festival.
Ellie Dean (she/her) is an arts student studying theatre, literature and film in Naarm/Melbourne.
The Dialog 