Part 1, A Faggot's Theology
Part 2, A Sissy's Physiology
performed by Kev Berry
Harsh Cacophonies is an large-scale project comprised of four extended monologues that examine the biggest questions we have about the universe, queerness and the most intimate questions we can ask ourselves about the bodies we live in. The four monologues exist in conversation with one another and, while they are able to stand alone, thrive when the audience is allowed to hear the language woven through that holds the project together as a cohesive whole, an experience that will eventually be 5 hours long, complete with a cocktail hour and a community meal.
Part 1 was first presented as a part of The Tank's PrideFest 2018. A Faggot's Theology is Berry's first dive into questioning his childhood, the religion under which he was raised, and whether or not g/God exists. While most of Kev's work has been semi-autobiographic in some respect, this is previously uncharted territory in that he portrays himself and is not fictionalizing any anecdote within. And he's fucking terrified.
A Faggot's Theology is about a man in a room talking to strangers about whether God exists. And it's modeled after a sonata which is a musical form where if it's a perfect sonata everything is resolved at the end of the night, and if it's an imperfect sonata, everything seems like it's going to be resolved, and then guess what? It all goes to hell. And we whirl, and we whirl, and we whirl.
Part 2, A Sissy's Physiology, is seeking a late summer 2018 developmental process. The monologue is Berry's open-hearted attempt to grapple with his body image as it relates to his queerness, all viewed through the lens of his having undergone hernia surgery a few years back.
A Sissy's Physiology is about a man in a room talking to strangers about what it means to not fit into a type as a Gay man, about what it means to feel stuck in the body you're stuck in. It's modeled after a fugue and after elementary school presentations on the body where everything seems perfect and like nothing actually goes wrong. Until it does. And we dance, and we dance, and we dance.