REVIEW: Bromance (Pontio, Bangor)

The relationship between men is a complex one. There are certain undrawn lines that you shouldn't cross if you're just mates, and there are certain things you need to be able to do in order to fit in. Masculinity has a habit of defining how far men's relationships with each other can go. The normative behaviour of heterosexual men means that emotion should be suppressed, not expressed, and that physical contact should remain blokey not invasive.

Bromance is a fascinating study on the different types of male relationships, and what restricts and enhances them, told through the medium of physical theatre such as circus, parkour and mime. Three performers - Charlie Wheeller, Beren D'Amico and Arthur Parsons - capitalise on their personal chemistry to present a show that balances physical expression with eye-popping spectacle to create a thoughtful, if sometimes roughly paced, hour of entertainment.

It explores the taboo of physical intimacy between men cleverly. When men touch, it's usually just to shake hands, or pat each other on the back. Maybe there's a drunken hug on a Saturday night, but rarely does it go beyond that. A bloke touching a bloke, especially without permission or unexpectedly, causes tension. The three boys begin by demonstrating the different types of handshake greetings, but show how some can feel too far or inappropriate. Some men aren't comfortable with a shoulder hug, others are more at ease with their bodies and don't mind an affectionate pat on the bum or chest.

The boys translate their differing feelings about physical intimacy through very natural body language. One stands apart, wary of the "mateyness" of the other two, but perhaps a little jealous of the rapport his colleagues seem to have. All this man-on-man contact, however, is not necessarily homoerotic, but it could certainly be interpreted that way. While the boys on stage were surely trying to evoke the feelings of awkwardness and ease between straight men, one lady behind me whispered to her friend: "He's in love with him but can't show it". Maybe he was. Maybe his jealousy was unrequited love (not necessarily sexual attraction). That's the difference between male and female relationships: while women are happy to admit they love their friends and often enjoy an affectionately tactile relationship with them, men are restricted in how they can express any similar feelings they have about their mates.

There's a lot of interpretive movement, mime and b-boying employed to get these messages across, some of it reminiscent of the "punk dancing" pioneered by the Canadian contemporary dance troupe La La La Human Steps in the 1980s. The athleticism of some of the moves these three boys pull off is impressive, yes, but then it should be. But what's really going on is a demonstration of trust between men, a physical mutual understanding unspoken but ever-present. When one performer stands bolt upright and begins to fall flat backwards, he expects his friends to be there to catch him. The fact they have to race across the stage to get there in time adds to the drama, but essentially the boys are baring their true selves here, because to make an artistic point about physical trust between men, you have to have that in spades to start with. It's a credit to Barely Methodical that Parsons - a giant of a man who wouldn't look out of place with the Night's Watch in Game of Thrones - has become such a fluid and integral partner with Wheeller and D'Amico in the few weeks he's been with them (regular performer Louis Gift has dipped out with a shoulder injury).

Louis Gift (currently out of the show),
Beren D'Amico and Charlie Wheeller

I mentioned the rough pacing earlier, and by that I mean there isn't really enough fully engaging content to fill the hour. The slow start, with lots of handshaking and awkward silences, is amusing at first, but goes on that bit too long. Having said that, there's a strong element of clowning and mime involved with this which is accomplished and well-studied, especially by D'Amico, who has a naturally lovable presence and an expressive face which lends well to humour. Some of the adults might have begun shuffling in their chairs during these lulls in activity, but the children lapped it up. Two little girls on the front row became infectious giggle machines which helped the show on its way.

The highlight of the show comes halfway through, when Wheeller struts his stuff with the Cyr wheel, his speciality. To become master of the Cyr wheel is a dangerous business - a wrong move and you can crush fingers and toes, or worse - but Wheeller is obviously an accomplished performer, and the boyishly playful look on his face as he spun the wheel that little bit closer to the front row for devilment was a joy.

Wheeller's turn on the Cyr wheel should perhaps be more of a finale than a midway point, and the finale the boys do have - where they stand on one another's shoulders, forming a three-man-high tower, dressed in only pink underpants - is awesome but perhaps not the 'Wahey' moment it could be. Nevertheless, when the tower-topping D'Amico says "I'd like to come down now", and you clock the physical strain on Parsons's face and arms, you swiftly want to agree, just for their own safety!

Bromance is experimental circus theatre at its most intelligent. The quieter, more introspective moments are well observed and give the overall show more of a comedic twist than might be expected, but this makes the circus elements all the more impressive. Boasting a cracking soundtrack, it's an intelligent study of masculinity and male relationships which I haven't seen addressed in straight theatre or contemporary dance quite as clearly or intuitively, and for all the Cyr wheels and teetering towers of muscle Barely Methodical can throw at the audience, it is this underlying message that has the most resonance.

The stats
Director: Eddie Kay
Performers: Beren D'Amico, Arthur Parsons, Charlie Wheeller
Performed at Pontio, Bangor, February 1st to 2nd, 2017. Performance reviewed: February 1st, 2017

Links
Barely Methodical Troupe website (retrieved Feb 2 2017)