Masculinity, toxic or otherwise, is a tricky subject to broach through any medium but theatre does lend itself to piquing conversation in a relatively non-threatening way. Dayboy, by playwright Harrison Kennedy, and produced by Arcade Theatre Company, skirts around the many layers of this subject, touching gently on themes of nature vs nurture, rugby culture, vulnerability, bravado, sexuality, violence and the uncertainty of youth.

The cast of five bring an aggressive energy to the stage, often almost overwhelming in its velocity, but tempered by moments of stillness and understanding. With each character holding a narrative thread, they shift up and down gear ferociously, holding their own space wilfully and competitively.

Each character has moments of sympathy and we the audience find ourselves moving through the spectrum of emotions alongside the cast.

The story is cleverly written, with the main thread being the rage Hami (Matariki Inwood) has towards Jack (Joseph Cooper), the day boy of the title; for Jack’s brother’s grievous and permanently damaging assault on the father Hami never had. It weaves in and out of the angst the others feel as they learn about themselves and their inadequacies and fears.

Quinn Hardy as Lucas, the youngest of the boarders, is a firecracker, whisking around the stage with all the frenetic energy and dorkiness of any teenage boy I’ve ever met. As his character finds his way inside his own head, we learn that his dreams of the army are based in the unexpressed violence he wishes he’d played out on his rugby coach. The underlying context of rugby culture – in all its glorification of manliness and don’t be a quitter and don’t cry – is relatable but difficult to watch (not least because it’s very easy to find funding for sports and much harder to find funding for the arts but I digress). Seeing Hardy bring Lucas to the realisation that his dreams of being a soldier aren’t based in the reality of going to war but in the hate and fear he felt on that rugby pitch is pretty powerful.

The peacemaker of the group is Mata, played by Tunui Wano, is fiery enough when he needs to be but also maintains a levelheadedness that keeps the play from spilling over into being a frenzied mess of testosterone and other assorted hormones. Cody (Isaac Martyn) is the son of the man damaged by Jack’s brother. He plays this difficult role with sympathy, enough pathos to keep the tragedy meaningful and, more so in his portrayal of a couple of other bit parts, some decent humour.

Inwood’s Hami has the most range and detail as he manages the rage of the lost chance of a loving family, testing his sexuality and what it might mean to abandon his friends for a life-changing opportunity, all while being the captain of the First XV.

These young men do justice to the difficult topic, shifting between the emotions smoothly and believably. The imagery of a bruised apple being different to a bad apple – damaged but it won’t affect the other apples so you shouldn’t throw it away – speaks to the idea of nurture being such a critical part of the pathway to healthy adulthood, whatever your nature.

The staging is simple, just drawer units and table lamps against a white sheet. I find myself fascinated by the shadow play, on faces and backdrops. I’m not entirely sure if it is intentional or accidental, but the elongated shapes created by the shadows falling on the backdrop, with the lamp held under a chin and on their faces, are very clever subliminal suggestions of the masks we wear to get through the hard stuff and sometimes just the day. There are uneasy shapes all the way through, unsettling and intimidating; a feeling of needing to atone for not being enough, not being a man yet, for not being stronger. The resolution is quick and kind, with the five young men finding their way to their own truths and seeing the capacity for a different relationship, with each other and themselves.

My guest is a 16-year-old boy, and I am curious about his take on it all: “Yep, pretty good.” Helpful and articulate as ever.

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