Sex is an easy starting place for comedy. The expectations, the realities, and the frustrations of desire can provide great set ups for jokes. Think back to the characters played by Marilyn Monroe and Joe E. Brown in Some Like It Hot — their bodies and perceived sex appeal (or lack of, in Brown’s case) become walking punchlines for the protagonists’ restricted libidos.

Attraction and frustration are at the heart of Hook-Up Boys, an anthology of short plays about a series of eclectic gay couplings. Among the scenarios on are two high school friends recognising their mutual attraction; an internet hook up gone wrong; and a one night stand that becomes far more complicated than expected.

Written and directed by Bruce Brown, Hook-Up Boys is by turns funny, sad and uplifting. [More] 

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Hook-Up Boys is exceedingly good theatre and Legacy Project founder Bruce Brown, always an excellent practitioner, would seem to be absolutely on top of his game. The technicals are refined and supportive, the acting is at times sublimely good, the direction clipped and economic but it’s the script – Brown’s acute observations of his community and his compassion for his fellow men – that is the most laudable.

Each of the six scenes is complete in itself but there is a strong and recognisable through line as well. Each of Brown’s characters is comprehensively drawn and distinguishable yet not one falls into the dreaded trap of being a gay male stereotype. That’s not to say that we don’t recognise each and every one of them, and the laughter that regularly rips the Basement Studio apart – this show is selling out and the night I go there are (shock, horror) even six women in the packed house – would suggest that the audience has been there, done that with most of them! The characters, that is, not the actors. 

It takes a damn good show to make me forget that I’m in the somewhat tacky room at the top of the wooden stairs at The Basement but Hook-Up Boys does just that. It is exhilarating being in a room with so many excited dudes and the work on the stage is dangerously infectious. Brown has clearly done his research and his boys enter into the spirit of the work with gusto. Don’t get me wrong, while the actors deliver, there’s no sense that anything other than ‘the plays the thing’ is going on. 

Brown tells us online – the perfect place to find out about a show that has its roots in hook up apps like Mr X, GuySpy and Grindr, in chatrooms and on the internet – that “hook ups are a big feature of the modern gay experience.” He continues “whether it’s killing time on Grindr, searching for closeness, or just getting off, it’s an easy way to feel some sort of connection to someone, to belong somewhere.”

His thesis is based around the question, “How are temporary encounters shaping our sexual identities and our growing disconnect from each other?” It’s a fabulous question to be asking in 2016 with all of us profoundly connected in an increasingly electronic, unexplainable, contemporary world. 

The show isn’t just about casual sex, however, and while it’s at times gut-grippingly funny it’s in no way played for cheap laughs. It’s rich stuff, subtle and evolved, and the questions it poses, while they’re elegantly stated and beautifully performed, give us no easy answers. It’s modern gay hook-up culture but it’s deeply human as well and while much of it may be, in Brown’s words, a “brutal meat market”, there are plenty of romantic moments that give us hope that not everything gets washed down the dunny with the used condoms when the encounters are over.

In case you’re reading this and, like me, you’re not a gay man but you’re interested in finding out more, Brown is interviewed on the Basement Theatre Blog about his processes and how he came to write the play. He says “Nowadays it seems like everyone is swiping right and using various geolocation dating apps to hook-up, but gays have been using (and abusing) this technology forever. Grindr has been around since 2009 and we’re been online arranging sexual meetings long before that! When you’re in the closet, Grindr is an easy way to connect with other gays whilst also remaining discreet and anonymous. It’s low risk because you can hide behind a torso pic, but these hollow, deceitful encounters are now the norm and have played a key role in how our community has become hypersexualised. Onscreen your self-worth is based entirely on the attention you get, which is generally tied to your age, body type and race. Your sexuality is defined more by your dick pic, than who you are as an actual person.”

When asked where the content for the play comes from and how much of it is deeply personal Brown replies, “I’m certainly inspired by my own experiences and misadventures, but I’m also curious about exploring the road not taken. Those missed opportunities if they went another way and when experienced by slightly more flawed versions of me.” It’s this last statement that resonates most with me as an audience member because much of what Brown has created is about choices and each of the characters has a multitude of options at any one time and this makes the show immensely watchable. There’s nothing more fascinating than watching others struggle to make decisions that will affect them for life but which need to be made in a nanosecond. It’s excellent writing and Brown has certainly come of age. 

Having ploughed my way to the top of the stairs – ageing is a bitch – I then did the same to the top of the auditorium and sat myself in the centre of the back row. On my seat was a flyer that I’ve since mislaid and a condom. Being same sex attracted but in the other direction I have no need for such devices but I always feel a blast of happiness when I see the wee rubber chappies made freely available. Maybe it’s having lived through the ’80s when friends were dying all around me that does it, but the existence of condom culture makes me hopeful and happy. Around me jackets are removed. It’s hot in the cramped house tonight.

There’s a set lurking in the semi-darkness and I can just make out a bed. There’s also a bus stop sign.

[Spoiler alert: What follows will be valued as a record of this work but if you are planning to go you may wish to read the rest of this afterwards. – ED]

Scene #1 is called ‘Boy’s Outing’. Two young lads appear in school uniform. They wait. Richard (Andrew Craik) is the forthright one, James (Lucas Haugh) the more reticent. There is ‘what did you do at the weekend’ talk. Richard pushes James to talk about a Saturday hook up. “What was she like? Did you get your dick wet?” James is restrained but eventually admits that the girl was actually a guy. This leaves Richard, having professed heterosexuality, to do the big about turn.

The balances of power shift and the boys, driven by hormones and curiosity, head off together to do heaven knows what. I wonder quietly to myself in the dark just exactly how many buses will be missed over the next few weeks as each lad find his way. It’s sweet-natured stuff and Brown gives little hint of the dark side of coming out to friends while you’re still at school.

Scene #2 is ‘Locked Out’. Thomas (Matthew J Smith) is waiting by a wall next to a door. William (Dion Greenstreet) sidles up and it’s clear it’s a hook up that’s been arranged online. William is clearly the more experienced of the two young men and he attempts to put Thomas, who is calling himself Kyle, at ease. It doesn’t work. They identify themselves by their online handles. FunGuy69? Names with Pokémon connections resonate more.

‘Kyle’, it turns out, has a flat mate, a girl, so they can’t go upstairs to his place. Will suggests a sauna. Thomas has never been to one. Sauna etiquette is briefly touched on which is helpful by the time we get to scene #6, 90 minutes later. ‘Kyle’/Thomas reneges on the suggestion. Will lays down three options: call your flatmate; get cold waiting for her; come to the sauna with me. Will pressures Thomas about who he is.

Turns out Thomas was head boy at the school they both went to and Will has known all along who he was. There are moments of bitterness as the whole thing falls apart. “Not everyone lives at home with their parents and plays Pokémon.” In response to Thomas’s “There won’t be a next time,” William lays it on the line: “There will be a next time. You can’t just turn it off,” to which Thomas responds vehemently, “I’m not gay!” Will leaves with the parting shot “Give my regards to the girlfriend.”

It’s such smart scripting. Brown drives us along in front of his bulldozer narrative but leaves us knowing that, for Thomas, this game will be played out again and again until he comes to grips with who he really is – and the longer it takes, the more havoc he will wreak.

Scene #3: ‘Band Aid Sex’ is beautifully positioned in the sequence and is a magnificent centrepiece without actually seeming to be so. As if by magic a double bed appears on an angle centre stage. Two rather gorgeous young men appear and we learn almost immediately that this is Richard’s pad. (Do people still use that word?) He’s picked up Caleb (Ciaran Smith) in a bar and, yes, each actor keeps the same character name throughout thereby adding to the sense of unity this episodic piece achieves.

Richard wants to get down and dirty straight away but Caleb teases and won’t comply. Richard suggests that if this carries on his “balls might explode.” There are invasive questions, asked mostly by Caleb, such as. “Where do your parents live?” It takes a while but we get there eventually: ‘Takapuna.’ The questions evolve into a stripping game – I’ll ask a question and if you answer truthfully I’ll take off an item of clothing. If you lie – then no luck. Our interest never flags because Caleb seems to know stuff about Richard and it’s embedded in the questioning.

Even more of a Spoiler Alert:
Then comes the kicker: “Did you sleep with my boyfriend?” Richard is gobsmacked. So are we. “George?” Suddenly Brown has dragged us unwittingly into morality country. “Truth – then sex. In that order. Where did you fuck him?” Brown anchors the locality again: “Was it in the toilets at Family (Bar)?” He doesn’t need to ask because he knows that Richard and George went back to Caleb’s house and had sex in his bed. Now it’s time for the revenge fuck, the ‘make it equal’ event. Richard restores sanity with, “Do you really think that having sex with me will actually fix anything?” to which Caleb replies, “Do me a favour. Stay the fuck away from my boyfriend!” [ends – and earlier alert continues]

It’s incredibly beautiful and incredibly ugly all at the same time. Brown raises the flag of monogamy and dives deep into the agony that can surround partner infidelity. It’s heavy stuff but the script, the journey we embark on and our growing affection for these two young men and their situation is strangely invigorating. I find myself realising that all over the world small scenes like this are playing themselves out, some dull and mundane, some murderous and detestable. It’s sobering, but there’s no time to ponder too much – that comes much later in the night on the solitary drive home – because we’ve moved on to Scene #4: ‘Stranger Sex’.

Julian (David Capstick) has returned to New Zealand and hooked up with his regular casual boy, William. They’re in a hotel room and we’re immediately in a classier, more sophisticated world. There is wine and mature chat with William on the bed and Julian hovering. They talk about work and Julian’s travels. He’s back in Aotearoa after a six month gap. “Long time between fucks” seems to sum things up. We learn that each has a boyfriend.

Out of nowhere comes the question, “What’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done?” For Julian, it’s roses, for Will it a treasure hunt with small, random presents: “Things I known the other guy will like.” Julian doesn’t get it; will never get it. There’s an issue. Julian is to be based in New Zealand. His relationship is in trouble and he wants to get more involved with William now he’s here permanently but for William this is merely a casual relationship; he’s interested in the sex but that’s all. No commitment, no relationship, no intimate communication. He has a boyfriend he re-iterates.

Julian tells a story from his relationship. It’s the saddest, most self-deceiving story in the history of the universe. Well, maybe not quite that sad, Bambi is sadder, but it’s well up there. William is unmoved. “There’s a difference between intimacy and sex,” he says. “No attachment, just sex,” and the lights fade as they begin to disrobe.

Scene #5: ‘Top and Tail’ is a delightful journey from childhood to adulthood embedded within the subtext of the narrative. Well, I told you Brown was clever, didn’t I, and he has cast actors who are absolutely perfect for each piece. Casting is where the pure genius of the theatre is best exemplified. 

James and Thomas are squatting on a bed playing Halo. They’re thrashing their game controllers and Thomas is winning. He’s hiding in a glitch. We’re told he’s cheating but, seriously, what would I know? Solitaire is about my limit. That, and Pokémon Go. They play fight over the game and it devolves into tickling with James doing most of the work. Thomas decides he has to go. “It’s a school night.” James suggests he stay and that they can top and tail, “like the old days … We haven’t done that since they were kids,” he says.

Suggesting it’s a bit weird and he’s too for sleep overs, Thomas agrees reluctantly. They get into the single bed and Thomas takes his pants off under the covers. James reminds him that they’ve seen each other naked, showered together. “As kids,” Thomas replies. There are jokes about looking like CatDog in the bed and the conversation moves to James’ friendship with Chloe from school. “Guys talk about you and Chloe all the time,” Thomas tells him, and suddenly it’s clear everyone at school thinks James is gay.

“Is that why we’re not friends anymore?” James asks and, via the vehicle of the fact that, when they were kids, they used to jerk off together, the young men find a comfortable place to be themselves and to be mates again. It’s charming, even if Thomas does insist that James “not tell people that we used to jerk off together.” Like anyone would care.

Again, Brown achieves a Chekhovian quality in that he says so very much without saying very much at all. Is it too much to say ‘Chekhovian’? Maybe Seinfeld-like would be better. You choose.     

The final scene is #6: ‘Losing Messages’ and I adore the winner/loser power games. An older guy, Julian, is enjoying a solo moment in a sauna watching porn. He’s wrapped in a towel. Caleb comes in, stands in front of Julian and opens his own towel. Julian moves so he can still see the screen. Caleb moves so he can’t. You get my drift? This happens just long enough to be funny but not so long as to be boring.

Again, there’s those Brown smarts. Caleb flirts. He’s a hunk, not used to not getting what he wants. Or so it seems. He says he’s into older guys. Julian lets us know that earlier in the day, he’s been talking to Caleb on Grindr. Got the brush off, didn’t he. Now Julian’s not interested. Well, he seems not to be. He tells Caleb, “Your online pic is attractive, in real life not so much.” The exchange is tense, gently angry, the script minimalist, economical.

Julian moves to go. Caleb quips, “You off to the wife and kids?” Julian tries for the last word: “You’re worth more than a raw fuck in the dark.” But the last word actually goes to Caleb, as Julian disappears: “Thanks, Dr Phil.” He looks to see where Julian is but Julian has gone. He seems stuck between surprised and resigned. The lights fade. [Spoiler alert ends]

As if to balance out the semi-nakedness of the final scene, all the men take the curtain call in their undies. It seems fitting – well, the undies are fitting anyway.

I have no hesitation in saying that, despite some misgivings around whether blokes hooking up could sustain my butterfly concentration for 90 minutes, I have thoroughly enjoyed the work. I could even relate to the characters. It reminds me that we queers are different, culturally and behaviourally. We’re not wired the same as the mainstream – no disrespect – which is of course, in itself, great, but what Brown has also exposed with his wonderful actors is a universal humanity that connects us all – hetero and homo and all that’s in between – but doesn’t in any way minimise, trivialise or pathologize those inimitable qualities that make gay men fabulous, fragile, raw, vulnerable and unique. Nor does Brown shy away from the romantic, the moral or the honourable in his extraordinary paean to love and his glorious celebration of men who have sex with men.

See it if you can. It’ll humanise your day. If it’s booked out, find Brown online and tell him to bring Hook-Up Boys back for Pride. You can see it then.  

So, what to do now?

Revisit The L Word [TV series], I think. Or hang out with The Mother of Dragons for a while. Whatever I do, it will involve women. Lots and lots of women … Just kidding! 

Copyright © in the review belongs to the reviewer