We sat down for an exclusive interview with Jacob O’Connor to discuss his dark comedy debut play ‘Act of God.’
This show runs from 9th-26th November at Riverside Studios, London – Tickets here
The therapist asks whether Jack is telling the truth or has told the story so many times he believes it, so how much of that question is one you’ve asked of yourself?
I’ve had to ask that question many times, and I think the story you tell yourself is often more interesting. I have memories of being a child competing in kickboxing that have been hyperbolised through the years and I now wholeheartedly believe I fought off an army of 100 with my left hand… blindfolded. Most of us have experienced a story we’ve convinced ourselves of but we secretly know the truth. Knowing is easy, admitting it is the hard part.
You’ve said the first rule in the ring is never let them see you’re hurt, so what did it take to write a character who has to break that rule on stage, and to play him yourself?
The ring taught me how good people are at hiding emotions, so it heightens your sensitivity to them. You learn to read when someone’s hurt even while they’re doing everything to look fine, and that instinct was useful when writing Jack. He’s a man who’s been keeping his guard up for years. Playing him is a different challenge altogether. As the writer, I know where every crack is. As the actor, I have to forget that and let the audience find them.
Why poetry as the thing that finally gets past Jack’s “world-class verbal footwork”, and do the poems in the script come from your own writing?
I think because it is so unexpected. Jack comes from a background that would hardly have been exposed to an art like poetry, except a week or two in school (in which he definitely didn’t pay attention). He gets competitively caught up in being good at poetry he doesn’t realise the truth is slipping out.
Chess and sparring both run through the therapy sessions, so what made you want to frame the therapist-patient relationship as a contest rather than a confessional?
Because Jack isn’t there to confess. He knows what the therapist is trying to get to, and the therapist knows he knows. So every session is a game where both players can see the whole board, and the question is who moves first. Chess was perfect for that: it’s patience, pressure and thinking three moves ahead. And the more interesting thing about framing it as a contest is that for Jack, winning might be the worst thing that could happen.
Setting Jack in Wythenshawe roots the play firmly in the North, so what did you want to say about working-class masculinity and how men there learn to cope?
I grew up in Stockport, just down the road, so I know the humour and the warmth of that world. I also know how much goes unsaid. I was fortunately in an environment where a lot could be spoken about and you can get things off your chest but I know that wasn’t the case for everyone. A lot of men are taught early on that you get on with it, you crack a joke, you don’t make a fuss. That’s not a criticism, it’s a way of surviving. But it means some things never get talked about. I wanted to put a man from that world in a room in London, a long way from home, where he can’t rely on any of the usual exits.
It’s your debut play and your first role on a London stage, so what has it been like bringing your first play to the stage and what do you hope people take away from it?
Honestly mental, this all started because a theatre producer joined a run club I go to and asked if I’d written a play (I hadn’t) and I said ‘yes, of course”, she said send it to me by next week… So I wrote a play. Since then, I’ve very much been thrown in to the deep end with months of dramaturgy and a sensational director: Sean Turner. I’m loving every minute, learning a lot. I hope people laugh more than they expect, and leave feeling like something has spoken to them.