Masterclass review – the ‘great male artist’ put through the shredder

The great male artist may soon be on his way out, and not before time. But Brokentalkers theatre company and the feminist comic Adrienne Truscott are taking no chances. Masterclass opens the door for the David Mamets and Ernest Hemingways of yore, with their machismo, their “underdeveloped female characters” and their “casual cruelty” – and ushers them on their way. And as for the rest of us? We tender-hearted non-toxic feminist allies, tippy-toeing around our modern maleness? Oh dear. It sounds like we’ve got to sling our hook too.

Such is the message of Masterclass – or would be, were Masterclass not careful to warn us against parsing plays for a message in the first place. Act One draws attention to its own oddity, as Feidlim Cannon’s interviewer (plaid blazer, conspicuous wig) interrogates shotgun-toting Truscott in drag, “the perennial Mr Nasty of American theatre”. His recent hits include Fat Cunt; his father was (he tells us) “an asshole and a drunk and a great guy”. The facial hair is ridiculous and the movement highly choreographed. There’s no pretence to realism as Cannon hymns Truscott’s genius, Truscott pops a cigarette into every facial orifice, and both re-enact a sexist scene from one of the enfant terrible’s plays.

All of this is enjoyably absurd and intriguing, while scoring pertinent points about the abusiveness inherent in the genius cult and in some traditions of actor tuition too. Then, as the pair’s play recital bleeds into real life, things switch – and for a moment, it’s not clear the show can bridge the credibility gap from cartoonish faux-masterclass to impromptu argument between its real-world creators. As Truscott challenges Cannon on his behaviour in the process of making the show, that show risks over-articulating its perspective on “the dynamics of gender and power” and “the self-serving hypocrisy of half-baked male allyship”.

Cannon’s allyship does seem half-baked: men in the audience may wish for a stouter defence. But – as the second act successfully negotiates the bumps in its roads – Masterclass offers a strong, playful provocation to those who, while continuing to dominate the stage (and the page), flatter ourselves that we’re the good guys.

• At Pleasance Dome, Edinburgh, until 28 August.
• All our Edinburgh festival reviews.