Trophy Boys – 10 June 2025

The timing couldn’t be more perfect for Trophy Boys to make its American premiere. The story follows a four person all male high school debate team’s hour to prepare to debate their assigned position—the affirmative side of feminism having failed women against a four person all female high school debate team, who will be arguing that feminism has served their interests sufficiently. As the boys’ team grasps at straws for argument ideas, an allegation that one of the boys sexually assaulted a girl at the other school comes to light, and the boys must decide where they stand in the real world: believing the girl making the accusations, with women in the general sense, or with each other no matter what.

Perhaps the most wonderful aspect of Trophy Boys is its casting and creative team; none of the boys are played by cisgender men, and both the writer and director are female. This adds a layer to the critical aspect of this piece—allowing toxic statements to be made and judged without it feeling personal because the audience has come to think of the characters as archetypes more than people. Playwright Emmanuelle Mattana also plays Owen, the stereotypical nerd who, in the end, turns out to be the perpetrator. Owen’s development from the beginning as a nerdy male feminist flexing his debate muscles establishes him as the least likely to get a girl—but also the most likely to argue his way out. Rooting for this character turned sour when, in the end, he convinced the other guys that their only choice was to protect him rather than doing the right thing and being the shining example of male feminism he was hiding behind at the beginning.

The rest of the characters are also stereotypes—the bystander, David (Terry Hu), who had some incredible breakout moments of fearlessness that weren’t enough to fundamentally change him; the ladies man, Jared (Louisa Jacobson) who thinks that loving women sexually is the equivalent of supporting them; and the “no homo” homo, Scott (Esco Jouley), who is in love with his best bro but willing to do anything to fit in regardless of potential consequences. We learned a lot about these four men in their moments of silent reflection, in which loud music played, the lights flashed colors, and each character embodied his sexual fantasies through solo posturing—cleverly suggesting that all boys think about is sex. The show is rather harsh on men, though funny about it.

I couldn’t help but wonder what a split screen of the women’s team might have added—or maybe a second act entirely from their perspective. It feels like this level of criticism would not be okay in both directions. While I’m not saying that we live in a world of gender parity, Trophy Boys did speak about a time in the life cycle when boys are vulnerable. The lesson here—band together against women with true allegations to protect yourselves from the dirt the perpetrator has on each of you—was rather bleak in terms of the options that young boys have regarding subverting the dominant paradigm. It was sad to see how fast the feminism washed away—sad, but important. There was a hunger in the audience to watch these boys build up their egos and then tear each other down. It was palpable. What does it mean?

Well, it proves the affirmative side of feminism having failed women, which is the argument these boys are supposed to be making. It’s a mix of many arguments that come up in the show, but the one I feel compelled to focus on is man-hating. It’s the argument that is most quickly discarded, but the arguments against women hating men tend to be about women needing men in some capacity, which is equally problematic. According to Domestic Violence Search, in cases of intimate partner violence men are more frequently accused but women are actually more frequently the perpetrators. In exceptionally public cases, however, women are most frequently the victims, by staggering percentages. Maybe women hate the stereotypes of men, which makes women man-hating just a little bit on a conceptual level. Maybe women feel a responsibility to strike back—or even first—or even in art and theatre.

Trophy Boys was a show created and portrayed by women that did not celebrate feminism or women. It artistically, humorously, and brilliantly tore down male stereotypes. On the surface, it’s a fun show about high school hormones and dismantling the patriarchy. Under the surface, it’s about harmful stereotypes, which it has to play into to expose. In the end, it makes its argument—feminism has failed women in that it has failed to erase the small part of women that hates the societal image of men and wants to mock men on stage, belittle men’s crises, and, frighteningly, cause men to stick together when one of them has crossed the line. It’s a show asking men to do better, but also intimating that women can too.

I did not attend this performance on a press pass.