Harsh Cacophonies, a cycle
I. A Faggot's Theology
II. A Sissy's Physiology
III. A Mary’s Mixology
directed by Alex Tobey
performed by Kev Berry
Summer 2018 - Summer 2021
"Berry creates the kind of theater he likes. It is big. Two hours is long for a monologue, but this one feels big, not long."
- Berkshire Fine Arts
Harsh Cacophonies I & II was a Semi-Finalist for the Princess Grace Award in 2022.
Harsh Cacophonies I & II was presented by The Tank in a virtual production streamed live from their mainstage to YouTube in November 2020. It was directed by Alex Tobey. The lights were by Christina Tang. Sound was by Christian Roberson. Videography was by Skye Morse-Hodgson with livestream coordination by Travis Amiel. The production assistant was Lewis Elliott. The production was stage managed by Jessica Fornear. It was performed by Kev Berry. The production can be viewed HERE.
Harsh Cacophonies is a cycle of full-length monologues about the intersections between queerness and the things that hold us back.
The first, A Faggot's Theology (2018), explores the connections between a man's agnosticism and his own queerness. What does it mean to believe in God as a gay man? What does it mean to not believe in God as a gay man? And if the gods are out there, what do they think of the mess we’ve made? This quirky and honest Catholic Mass for One carefully balances these big questions with playful lightness and a heavy pour of bourbon.
The second, A Sissy's Physiology (2019), digs into the same man's quest for a passably good body as it relates, again, to his own queerness. Why are gay men so obsessed with desirability? Why do gay men wish they were born into a different body entirely, with a better metabolism and a better ass? And why the hell is the fitness journey as an entity so Sisyphean? This frank Road Trip Traffic Jam tries to unpack all of this with a few swigs of cider.
The third, A Mary’s Mixology (2020), is a document of a fag’s first year on the wagon. What does it mean for a gay man to give up liquid courage? How does he stay brave in gay environments that often feel insidious after a certain point of the night? How does he not become a party pooper? Will he ever stop wanting a fucking margarita? This brutally honest Night at the Club knocks back a seltzer with a splash of grapefruit juice with ease and tries to define a potential future.
The 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 play together as a cohesive whole, whether in rep, or in a marathon evening of theatre.
