Theatre review: Animal

David (Christopher John-Slater) has cerebral palsy; he's also gay and as sexually frustrated as any man in his mid-20s who's physically unable to have a wank would be. We meet him on the phone to a sex shop's complaints line, after the sex toy he hoped would solve all his problems turned out to be too difficult to use. His best friend Mani (Harry Singh) suggests he bite the bullet and try to have sex with some actual men: After resisting for a long time David joins Grindr. Jon Bradfield's Animal, based on a story by Josh Hepple, is a witty and full-on look at people with disabilities as sexual beings with the same needs as anyone else, but with a different set of obstacles to satisfying them. Different rather than necessarily greater, as the issues and hangups of the able-bodied men he meets are at least as much of an obstacle to his happiness as anything to do with his condition.

So after a life of sexual frustration, David suddenly finds himself something of a player, starting with a succession of increasingly eccentric older men, all played by William Oxborrow, who play out his daddy issues and their own.

The play doesn't shy away from how gay men's rejection of anyone who doesn't fit their physical ideal is dialed up to eleven when faced with someone with cerebral palsy, although in a running gag David's prospects always seem to suddenly improve when the men he's chatting to realise he's unusually well-hung.

But while the sexual encounters scratch the initial itch, it soon becomes clear David wants more of an emotional connection. Liam (Joshua Liburd) looks like the perfect physical specimen and is at heart a decent guy, but he has serious issues with body dysmorphia, and possibly hangups about his sexuality that mean he might be a dangerous person for David to get too attached to.

Bradfield's programme notes say the writers didn't want to make David an angel, and John-Slater finds a nice balance: His desire to be independent - he can't wash or dress himself, and needs someone to hold the glass so he can drink water through a straw - leads to some heartbreaking moments as he pushes himself too far physically. But it can also make him cruel and throughtless to the people he depends on most: He wilfully ignores his carer Derek's (Matt Ayleigh) hints about how much he financially depends on this job and cuts his hours; while his friend Jill (Amy Loughton,) who lives in his flat rent-free in return for being available if he needs help in the night, gets betrayed by him in quite a cruelly dismissive way.

Bronagh Lagan's production juggles a story that covers a lot of different areas, not just around disability and sexuality but also, through David's many and varied sexual encounters, on ideas touching on consent and the suggestion of sexual violence. There's an unpredictability and scope to the play that keeps you on your toes, and even delivers a cliffhanger going into the interval. Matt Powell's video design nicely brings the online chats and flirtation to life, although the occasional disco lights don't seem a good enough reason for Gregor Donnelly to surround the set with a frame that gets in the way of sightlines for the entire Circle.

But for all its varied moods Animal mostly plays out as a comedy whose best lines often come as a surprise: On the one hand there's David's self-deprecating one-liners about his disability ("Does someone have to help you shower?" "No, I lick myself clean like a cat.") On the other there's the smutty gags that are inevitable given the subject matter, but always seem to have a quirky twist to them ("I'm not gay." "Well, if it walks like a duck and rims like a duck...") These lines are always a particular delight when casually tossed out by Loughton's matter-of-fact Jill. Animal may offer an important perspective and a voice we don't get to hear often, but it's how funny and charming it is despite its darker elements that is the enduring impression.

Animal by Jon Bradfield from a story by Jon Bradfield and Josh Hepple is booking until the 20th of May at Park Theatre 200.

Running time: 2 hours 35 minutes including interval.

Photo credit: Piers Foley.