Irish Times writers review a selection of events from the world of the arts.
A Month in the Country, Abbey Theatre, Dublin
"Hearts are trumpery?" inquires the German tutor Herr Schaff at the beginning of this delicately amusing and forlorn exploration of love. Of course, Schaff, considering a hand of cards, doesn't quite know what he's saying. For him the Russian language is an elusive and slippery character - beautifully performed, in Brian Friel's 1992 version of Turgenev's play, by English.
Similarly, it's not clear whether any of the 12 figures in the grand Islayev estate are in absolute control of their speech. Did Derbhle Crotty's demure and trapped Natalya just refer to her sluice-mending husband (Peter Hanly) as "the dam enthusiast", or did we mishear? Either way, Friel essentially turns A Month in The Country into a word play.
Suggestion and double meanings are the lingua franca of 19th-century Russian theatre, where the flow of passion is halted by the sluicegate of gentility.
Turgenev minted the form, Chekhov refined and enhanced it, and Friel scored it for Irish voices. As the play constructs a tangled net of desire and romance, Jason Byrne's elegant production defers to the authority of the text. The director's usually experimental vision instead maintains an uncluttered view of that age-old, simple plot structure - the "love dodecahedron".
Natalya, the object of Michel's unrequited desire (Declan Conlon, smouldering), longs for her son's young tutor Aleksey (Laurence Kinlan, raffish), who, in turn, is the unrequited beloved of Natalya's daughter Vera (Elaine Symons, girlish). Vera, however, is sought after by uncultured farmer Bolshintsov (Pat Laffan, nicely oafish), a match negotiated by the ingratiating schemer, Ignaty (Don Wycherley, utterly fantastic), who has his none-too-romantic eyes set on spinster Lizaveta (Fiona Bell, understated).
Such dynamics demand accomplished ensemble playing (and Byrne's cast is a glorious assembly), but the play is actually measured out in an increasingly brisk series of duologues, quickly reaching the speed and pitch of melodrama.
Love here is a form of madness, "a catastrophe" that makes "the unreasonable perfectly reasonable". Crotty's Natalya, who is worst afflicted, best expresses this in the rictus smile that masks her slow heartbreak, while the airless symmetry and oppressive scale of Joe Vanek's minimal set (even the gauze around his gazebo feels suffocating) is psychologically attuned to her. But if the final acts seem to whisk this production closer to farce (no romantic clinch goes without its "accidental" witness), the play's comedy may achieve a keener insight.
Wycherley, wonderfully alive to the defensiveness of his cheesy jokes, is ultimately more sympathetic, more moving in his candour than the overblown declarations of impassioned leads. And Andrew Bennett's gleeful word trumpery, routinely confusing "lust" with "love", seems to recognise beneath the babbling flow of this summer drama a more revealing torrent of desire. Schaff, as the song almost put it, you're dam right. - Peter Crawley
Runs until Jul 1
Puppeteer, The Ark, Dublin
The theatrical collaboration between Irish performer/producer, Ronan Tully and Vienna-based director/performer, Christian Suchy has resulted in an unusual piece of non-verbal physical theatre aimed at six- to 12-year-old children. Puppeteer, an hour-long show partly inspired by Hans Christian Anderson's short story, The Puppet Show Man, opened for school groups earlier this week. Performed by Tully and his tiny puppets, the show tells the story of a puppeteer whose hand develops a life of its own and whose head has a habit of falling off.
The audience engaged immediately with the misshapen puppeteer (Tully) as he struggled to keep his head (a brown skull-like football) on. They also enjoyed the scarecrow-like form he took on when his head was temporarily replaced by a newspaper.
However, many of the adventures of the independent hand were altogether less engaging. In fact, there were times when the entire performance seemed to lose its way, partly due its strong surrealist quality with many visual references to French artist Magritte.
And although the visual references were in themselves stylish, they were a poor substitute for a good storyline. Ultimately, this reviewer was left with the impression that surrealism is more of an adult pursuit and the ideas-based thinking it taps into too complex for a six- to 12- year-old audience to engage with. Sadly, the puppeteer ended the show with a rambling synopsis based on mixed metaphors from fairytales that weakened the performance further. - Sylvia Thompson
Public performances on May 27 and June 3 at 1pm, 3pm & 6pm
Horst Buchholz and Other Stories, Bewley's Café Theatre, Dublin
The lunchtime slot in Bewley's is hosting the Irish premiere of what might be called a gentle farce with roots. Matthew Wilkie's playlet is set in the Old Brogue pub, and is centred on a quiz competition. The characters are four members of a generally unsuccessful team - there should be five, but one woman is missing because of romantic complications exposed during the battle for supremacy in general knowledge.
Chairman of the group is George (Philip Judge), a loser in life who yearns to win for once, especially since he placed a large bet on his chances, provoked by a sneering opposition. The questions put them to a severe test, but they are doing well except for the elusive name of a gunslinger from The Magnificent Seven. Will the answer spring from the wells of the subconscious, or will they suffer defeat and, in George's case, bankruptcy?
The farce dimension works well. The roots emerge in brief flashbacks in which each team member exposes his current insecurity or dilemma. Tim (Stephen O'Rourke) is an oppressed schoolteacher; Rich (Alan King) is trying to end an affair with Jules (Mary O'Driscoll), while she is reacting with outraged incredulity at his perfidy - his new inamorata is the missing team member. The acting finds the bullseye.
George is, in the final stage of the shoot-out, deserted by the others. But there is a saving grace to come, and the play ends in a state of good humour embracing the audience. Noelle Brown directs this amusing and reflective slice of life with a light and clued-in touch. - Gerry Colgan
Runs to June 10
