ANU Productions's Pals was a singular attempt to commemorate Irish involvement in World War I. Photo: Patrick Redmond.
Thinking back on 2015, I’m reminded of the mobilisation of artists around the Marriage Equality Referendum and the #WakingTheFeminists outcry over the Abbey Theatre’s male-mad 2016 season. I’m reminded of gutsy programming by Galway International Arts Festival to host Exhibit B, a controversial installation that internationally
spurred the modern equivalent of a theatre riot, and by Tiger Dublin Fringe to take a chance on Kim Noble, a guerrilla-performance artist on a risky search
for companionship.
In
trying to narrow down my theatre-going (I wrote about 120 performances this
year) to a list of ten, I’ve kept to the parameters of new productions by
Irish/Northern Irish companies, or co-productions where the creative half is
Irish. This leaves out Andrew Scott’s seamless performance in the Paines Plough
production of Sea Wall, co-produced
by Dublin Theatre Festival, though it was probably my favourite performance
this year. I’ve also left out the Gate Theatre’s production of The Gigli Concert because Denis Conway
had performed the part before, and I figured I could make room for something
else, though that doesn’t excuse the omission of Sinéad McKenna, who gave the
best lighting design this year.
Whenever
I’ve written an end-of-year list, I’ve tried to keep to the idea of
‘best’ as moments in the theatre when I felt a significant shift in my
thinking, when I’ve registered a change in my biology: the welling of emotion,
the howl of laughter or a menacing discomfort.
(Finally,
thank you to readers who followed me this year from Musings In Intermissions to
A Younger Theatre and Broadway World, and most recently Exeunt Magazine and The Stage. Keep an eye out for me in the two latter publications in 2016).
10. Theatre Lovett, The
True Story of Hansel and Gretel
One of the country’s leading companies for young audiences challenges
assumptions of the Grimms’ Hansel and
Gretel. The sweet smell of baking batter drifted through the Smock Alley
Boy’s School, as directors Louis Lovett and Muireann Ahern mounted set pieces suspicious of previous tellings: snuffing out a
witch; rolling in an elderly Gretel in a wheelchair, her bloody mouth
mysteriously bandaged. Are we to suspect the child heroes who enter
the employ of a patisserie (an ominous Raymond Keane), their overly-possessive father
(Lovett), or the addictive taste of sugar? With inventive use of the
multi-tier auditorium and a haunting children’s choir, Theatre Lovett proved they are at the top of their game, as they dare to leave young
audiences guessing of the cages in their lives.
Barry McStay’s drama about an Irishman in London introducing
his beau to his parents struck the balance so well between the comic car crash of
the evening’s party (excellently curtailed by Siobhán Cullen and Jamie O’Neill
as an ex-girlfriend and her brutish boyfriend) and the tender wooing between
strangers (Peter Corboy and Rob Malone in a gorgeous duet). It gave no easy
answers as director Maisie Lee sensitively offered up the differing
perspectives, that of a gay man desperate for acceptance, and his parents’ pain
at watching their family disintegrate (a covert Martin McGuire and Bairbre Ní
Chaoimh). While acceptance on both sides takes time, in the end McStay
transported us to a place, imaginable in Rebekka Duffy’s abstract set, where discriminations
dissolve. If that doesn’t ring with an Ireland that overwhelmingly voted to
legalise same-sex marriage, I don’t know what will.
Photo: Declan English
The funniest play this year, David Ireland’s south-of-the-border
debut saw two sisters (Stacey Gregg and Abigail McGibbon) clash behind the
scenes of Northern Ireland’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Ireland’s
play would be written off as juvenile with its slurs about race, homosexuality
and addiction, if not underscored by Gregg’s arch performance with signs of a trauma:
a family who had been blown apart by the Troubles. Sophie Motley directed the hell
out of it, and Sarah Bacon’s boldly painted boiler-room was a cross between a comedy set
with a giant button saying “DO NOT PUSH”, and a symbolic space guessing
the wiring and processes of the characters. In Ireland’s exploration of conflict in the
post-Troubles period (to be continued with his new play Cyprus Avenue at the Abbey Theatre in February), discrimination is
astonishingly a means to survive.
Photo: Ros Kavanagh
The stakes were raised in this 25th anniversary
production of Brian Friel’s Dancing at
Lughnasa, as director Annabelle Comyn pitted the mythic shapes of the Mundy
sisters against the machinery of the industrial age; a strange mechanical
apparatus suspended above the action in Paul O’Mahony’s set design. Everyone
was a team player, from the sassy Cara Kelly to the quietly powerful Catherine
Cusack. Lughnasa usually makes for a
nostalgic experience, with its mixed feelings of heart and heartbreak, but with
the passing of the playwright during the Lyric production’s run, hearts
definitely broke.
Photo: Ros Kavanagh.
The eponymous bog of Marina Carr’s 1998 tragedy was given a
star role in director Selina Cartmell’s revival. Frozen over in Monica
Frawley’s set design, trampled on by cash-obsessed investors and a vow-breaking
priest, the setting of Carr’s play proved to be powerful ground for critiquing
the Celtic Tiger. It also made the downfall of Hester Swaine (wicked and
brilliant Susan Lynch), a Traveller besieged by omens and dispossessed of her
lover, all the more tragic. By playing up the ancient tensions of a landscape
facing the mass industrialisation of the boom years, Cartmell revealed the Bog
of Cats as dispossessed as Swaine herself, and if society won’t claim her, the
earth certainly will.
Photo: Patrick Redmond
The cultural amnesia surrounding Irish involvement in World
War I is still felt in the incomplete record of fatalities, and seemingly in the difficulty to penetrate that history theatricality. With the exception of last
year’s On the Wire, ANU’s Pals is the only attempt to commemorate
the event that claimed anywhere between 30,000-40,000 Irish lives. This
promenade in Collins’ Barracks led us up to dormitories that once housed the 7th
Battalion of the Royal Dublin Fusiliers, where, in the electrifying effects of
Sarah Jane Shiels’s lighting and Carl Kennedy’s sound design, we slipped back
and forth between the camaraderie of the rugby pitch and the horrors of the
battlefield at Gallipoli. In director Louise Lowe’s intermingling of dark and
light, the breakdown of masculine bodies is almost too painful to witness, but
John Cronin’s wonderful performance as an injured soldier coaxing a nurse to waltz
was one of the warmest scenes this year.
If Yeats’s 150th anniversary threw up anything,
it was the difficulties of getting past the dramatist’s purple speech, the Noh
masks and the cold minimalism of form. But Fiona McGeown’s psychological turn
as Cuchulainn’s wife in The Only Jealousy
of Emer made for a complex and thrilling battle for the hero’s life. The
actor subtly conveyed the complex range of Emer’s emotions, a devout wife to a
known philanderer, with her mixed feelings of duty and neglect. But her husband
is fighting a losing battle against The Woman of the Sídhe (an otherworldly
Sandra O’Malley), protected only by the memory of his wife, projected
in Joe Hunt’s gorgeous visuals. In the end, a selfless sacrifice made for one
of the most elegiac and tragic productions of the year.
Photo: Patrick Redmond.
It’s not theatre, but allowing for a blurring of art forms
in this list. In Enda Walsh and Donnacha Dennehy’s startling new opera, something strange was suppressed under the polite meeting of strangers in a
drab hotel. Dennehy’s lush music underscored banal observations (“Nice
decorative features, feels homely”) before building to a rush: these otherwise
unremarkable figures might very well transcend the limitations of their lives.
Katherine Malley and Claudia Boyle sang poignantly of a woman’s wish for
renewal, and the barrel-chested Robin Adams gave voice to a man’s destructive
pursuit of Odysseus-like perfection. But to transcend such circumstances is to be
reminded of what’s left behind: the sad universes we build of our lives.
Photo: Hazel Coonagh
The most powerful chapter yet in director Sarah Jane
Scaife’s ongoing Beckett in the City project. Bringing together the
playwright’s plays for women in the historical environs of Halla Banba, a
building steeped in Nationalist history, Scaife conveyed the ramshackle body of
the Irish woman since its inception in the Irish Constitution (that writers
Róisín Ingle and Tara Flynn came forward to tell their abortion stories in the same
week added extra resonance). Michelle Forbes gave one of the most heartbreaking
scenes of the year, playing the fraught figure in Footfalls against the faded glory of the National Ballroom, sadly
admitting she was “never there”. Finally, with Come and Go, Sinead Cuthbert’s thoughtful costuming added proof
that Beckett, despite his abstraction, might have been writing about Dublin all along.
Photo: Matthew Thompson
The 20th century Nationalist myth of the West of
Ireland as a purified safe ground, devoid of social problems, extended well
into the de Valera years. Druid’s oeuvre is somewhat of a continuation of what
J.M. Synge most famously started with The
Playboy of the Western World in 1907, to test that myth and show the West
as a site of famine, alienation and emigration. Of course that myth is defined
by the relationship with England, and for their 40th anniversary,
Druid ambitiously went to the beginnings of the colonial project as popularly
portrayed in Shakespeare’s History plays: Richard
II, Henry IV part I, Henry IV part II,
and Henry V. Mark O’Rowe’s adaptation
condensed four plays into a six-hour epic, astonishingly sustained under Garry
Hynes’s towering direction, and downplayed reminders of the colonial history to
bring the dramas’ dynastical conflict centre-stage. The gender-blind casting of
Derbhle Crotty and Aisling O’Sullivan as Henry IV and Henry V pulled the
symbolic construction of ‘king’ into focus, while Marty Rea’s performance as an
infantile Richard II stripped of his titles made for the most mesmerising turn
of the year. Refitting the company’s Mick Lally Theatre for purpose, Druid admirably
paid homage to their own history.
Lovely to see a solid percentage of work from outside of Dublin makes this list. Much of my favourite work this year was in Galway or Limerick. Happy writing in 2016 Chris! xx
ReplyDeleteOpera is theatre!
ReplyDeleteThere is always going to be an occasion when someone like yourself makes an innocent yet substantially monumental oversight..
ReplyDeleteTwo Sore Legs, written,produced and cast with everything that is Irish was by far the 'best' thought provoking emotionally funny intelligent true story of one woman's plight in Belfast. A sell out show in both Edinburgh and Northern Ireland with rapturous standing ovations every nite..
Amazing how bloggers can overlook the gems when mining the obvious...