Leglock is a tactful, charismatic rumination on working class identity led by an electric actor and thoughtful writing.
James apprehensively looked towards the floor, making minimal eye contact as the lights dropped low. Sitting on the bench, medal around his neck, he recalls the horror of the first time he heard an opponent’s bone snap and the guttural sounds of them choking on their own blood. He never wants to do that, he pleads, he just wants to win, to be respected. If only he tapped out, he mutters, if only.
Leglock is a powerful rumination on the search for identity and belonging in working class Britain. Taking place as one long monologue from sixteen year old amateur cage fighter James (Taylor Uttley) – who has just won a fight that might accelerate his career – takes us on a journey through his childhood and psyche. Through a combination of writing that delicately balances Taylor’s charm and obsessiveness with honest insightful self reflections, Leglock made me laugh as much as it did contemplate.
Taylor’s performance as this young cage fighter is dynamic, the highs and lows of his life are echoed through his stage presence. From the opening five minutes regaling his fight with all the dramatics of a Greek legend, to ruminations on his lack of belonging, Taylor smoothly guides us from each peak to each trough. He’s charismatic, boundlessly energetic, commanding with voice but also easily handles the more gloomy and introspective aspects of the monologue easily. He’s believable and this is in part due to great writing by Lowri Mathias throughout that avoids painting a caricature of a working class hero, letting his inner monologue speak for all that is often left unspoken by men and boys alike.
Walking us back through his childhood we reach the moment he first fought at twelve years old, and lost, but was respected all the more for doing so graciously. From self respect that grows from that seed, his obsession with fighting brings obstacles he was never prepared for. For all his early success you don’t feel jealous of him. Between the trauma of training or fighting, and the moonshot nature of professional sports, the script reminds you while this is a dream for James, it’s no guarantee.
This sport gives James the first taste of respect, of being seen as a person with potential and promise, something ever dwindling in an ever degrading Britain. James’ story, though personal, also serves to interrogate the hopelessness that pervades Britain today, his story is not unique and feels written as a response to the lack of agency young men particularly feel they have. We see how the dominos fall, how his mother retrained in hope of lifting them out of poverty and how his dad can’t get shifts off to watch his fight. These only serve to place James in context as a product of his environment while proscribing agency to him, Lowri’s tactful writing balances both and while James is hopeful for his career by the curtain call I couldn’t help but be scared for him and teenagers like him. Lockleg could have just been a megaphone to the anger young boys feel, but instead it has the finger on the pulse of the hopelessness they feel, and is much better for it.
See Leglock at Greenside@George Street 5:20pm on the 21st, 22nd, and 23rd of August.