Presented by STAAT Productions

Review by Laurie Kimmett

10 Dome at Pleasance Dome

Two grown men stand on a stage, writing furiously on whiteboards as Jordan Peterson prattles on about lobsters and masculinity from a TV in between them. Photos flash on the screen of pulsing muscles and stark red writing as the two men scribble with more and more fervour, producing profanities and vulgar drawings. It could be an overkill, on-the-nose representation of toxic masculinity, if it weren’t for the fuzzy dog ears on one of the men and the fairy – sorry, moth – wings on the other.

These are our titular characters, Moth and Dog. Moth is a complex, angry young man who doesn’t care about rules and detention, with a pill-popping habit and a bone to pick. Dog seems to be the opposite – meeker and more nervous, whose attempt to live up to his expectations of what a man is read as a small kid trying to be like his dad in the playground. Stuck together, what blossoms between them is a relationship made of longing, unspoken words, violence, and loneliness. Jumping between time and place, Moth and Dog Are Dying To Get Out, by emerging playwright Aidan Monks,  is an exploration of masculinity and extremism. Both characters are dealing with their own problems, both have their own baggage, and both are just trying to cope with it in their own ways. Dog and Moth are the same, despite what Moth’s hardened surface would have you believe. 

If it’s normal to see a slight disparity between performance ability in a two-hander, then Moth and Dog is an anomaly. Ben Phillips as Moth is a force to be reckoned with, navigating complete shifts in mood and tone with ease. And Dylan Swain is a powerful actor, landing comedic beats without ever losing the sense of simmering anger that makes Dog such an interesting character. The chemistry between the two is electric, as they bounce off one another with playfulness and combat alike. Both slip into new facets of their characters like they’re shedding skins – these are performers to watch out for. 

It helps that they have a well-written and interesting script, of course. As soon as you imagine the play going down a particular path, it diverges completely, leaving you completely immersed in every short and snappy scene. The time-jumping structure works well for what Monks is trying to achieve, even if it feels a little muddled at points. Skilled direction means that it finds its way back eventually. 

If there is anything to critique fully, it is the lack of physical theatre promised in the show description. With two talented actors and clearly well-thought through direction, it would have been a delight to see what they could come up with. However, this isn’t something you notice until after the play ends, as audiences are swept through it at a galloping pace. Flashy tech and beautiful instances of metatheatricality are increasingly compelling, and the story strays from being the typical moralising tale to something far more human and heartbreaking. 

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