Theatre Maketh Man: Masculinity and the Fringe
Perhaps it has become necessary to tell stories about a better masculinity, because the classics are no longer good enough – we look at a string of shows offering new views of masculinity at this year's Fringe
Recently I directed a play called The Stag and the Hound. When we first meet our protagonist, he seems the perfect lad: slightly lairy yet stable and engaged, until he wakes up caked in blood. The play then unpeels the influences which transform a man into an unrecognisable monster.
Back in 2021, when toxic masculinity was a buzzphrase, I wrote myself a little feminist manifesto, as all new-minted grownups do. (Right?!) And, although I knew the manosphere considered toxic masculinity a virtue, I essentially dismissed it as doomed to eat itself. But, as anyone who’s heard of the Southport stabbings or Netflix’s Adolescence is aware, the manosphere is where men become monsters, and the monsters are mobilising.
"I think young people probably make a digital personality for themselves, and that starts to take control over their real self," says Alex Hill, Gen-Z creator of Why I Stuck a Flare Up My Arse for England. "People used to have a digital footprint, but now it’s like you have a real-life footprint; so at some point these algorithms push manosphere culture into reality."
What the manosphere excels at is glorifying a story of masculinity which is tortured, sexist and narrowly-defined, overblowing men’s capacity for violence, strength and horniness to make up a whole, finite personality.
And is it any wonder that’s the story? When our culture’s textbook man is portrayed as a petulant vigilante who nevertheless gets the girl and destroys infrastructure for ‘the greater good’, according to him? (I’m looking at you, Superman – fans, please don’t hate me.) We may have had 2,500 years of male-centric storytelling, but Hercules, Hamlet and Harry Potter are arrestingly generic characters, dating from a time when ‘male’ remained the narrative default. Nowadays, we can point to as incongruous a group of heroes as Elphaba, Fleabag and Bluey and call them each women; but collect some incongruous men like P.T. Barnum, Stanley Kowalski and Evan Hansen, and most of us will consider one ‘less of a man’ than the others.
As Hill observes, identifying some canonical ideal of masculinity is both boring and inaccurate, as no one portrayal of masculinity will ring true for everyone. He says: "We’d be better off opening our palette to different things – that brings a healthier balance of 'the man'."
So if the toxic masculinity is one story, then stories can be the antidote. Choreographer Natasha Gilmore’s show Wee Man stretches and redraws the boundaries of masculinity without once losing identity. She points out that "women have feminism as a way to redefine what femininity is; we have the concept. Men don’t have an equivalent, and the voice for supporting a way forward has been hijacked by unhelpful, criminal women-haters. Boys need healthier versions of masculinity which are more holistic, moving forward to a masculinity where emotional honesty, support and kindness are allowed, and still with a strength in them."
In the same way that feminism redefined femininity, we must redefine masculinity in opposition to the patriarchy and gender exploitation. And I think the place to do that is theatre, from where all our stories come.
While stories making masculinity an inclusive, non-violent and constructive identity are to be applauded, we must also recognise that masculinity does not exist in a vacuum. Hence I slightly begrudge new American SIX-for-boys show, World’s Greatest Lover, for omitting Sappho, The Wife of Bath and Héloïse d’Argenteuil from the lineup – even if I’m missing the point.
And while we redefine masculinity for a better society, we must never do so to the exclusion of female and non-binary experiences, which have only just joined the cultural conversation. If the bombshell of Netflix’s Adolescence has taught us anything, it’s the enormous cultural resonance of stories, and we all bear responsibility for which ones we choose to perpetuate or exclude.
Why I Stuck a Flare Up My Arse for England, Underbelly Bristo Square (Cowbarn), 30 Jul-25 Aug, 2.15pm, £8.50-15
Wee Man, DanceBase (DB1), 5-17 Aug, 7pm, £14-15
World's Greatest Lover, Pleasance Courtyard (Pleasance One), 31 Jul-24 Aug, 6pm, £10-19