Irish Times writers review Endgame at the Waterfront Hall, Macbeth at the Helix, Deadline at Andrews Lane Studio and The Darkness at the Point, Dublin.
Endgame at the Waterfront Hall, Belfast
"Nothing is funnier than unhappiness."
In a single line is contained the entire spectrum of Samuel Beckett's dramatic vision, at once throwaway and bleak, absurd and surreal, tragedy stretched so far in one direction that it bumps into comedy coming the other way.
Of all his plays, Endgame is the one which Beckett professed to dislike the least, though the difficulties he encountered in its composition are hinted at in the fractious, protracted ending, uncomfortably mirroring the dilemma of the central character and the inhabitants of his slowly shrinking world.
Conleth Hill gives a remarkable performance as Hamm, a blind paraplegic, confined to a shabby armchair, with only his robotic servant Clov and his pathetic, legless parents Nell and Nagg for company.
Hamm is a faded peacock in his crimson velvet dressing gown and embroidered skull cap, the only spot of colour in this grey, permanently crepuscular world, gloomily lit by John Comiskey.
But far from suffering in saintly resignation, he is - or has become? - a monster, cantankerous, cruel, self-pitying and controlling. Denied physical mobility, his eyes hidden by dark glasses, Hill has to rely entirely on his extensive repertoire of vocal skills, swooping from thundering rage to lyrical imaginings and baby-voiced wheedling.
Frankie McCafferty's training in European physical theatre is brilliantly effective in his creation of Clov, a grimly comic Mr Bean, who patrols Monica Frawley's vast box-like cell, attending tenderly to the needs of poor, doting Nell (Stella McCusker) and Nagg (Ian McElhinney) in their dustbin prisons and pandering to the petulant demands and pointless daily routine of his lord and master. They are the last four people left on earth, kept alive for no apparent reason in this hellish place.
At last, there is the prospect of a release of sorts, poignantly arrived at in Mark Lambert's compelling production for Prime Cut, which finds laughter at the most unlikely junctures. But it is harrowing to watch Hill's abandonment of the last few props of life, as Hamm settles down alone to face another day and another chapter in his endless chronicle of existence. Jane Coyle
Runs until February 18th. Booking on Belfast 9033 4455.
Macbeth at the Helix, Dublin
Alan Stanford's direction of Macbeth for Second Age is a thriller with jewelled dialogue, a new revelation of the excitement inherent in Shakespeare layered on to the profundity. A terrific cast has been assembled to deliver this riveting interpretation, sweeping through it like a controlled storm, and the result is hypnotic.
Aidan Kelly is Macbeth, generating a psychic force to match his physical bulk. From the moment he appears, we know that here is a warrior, a tempestuous man capable of destruction, meat for the gods. He delivers his words with clarity and conviction as he crumbles beneath the weight of destiny, and finally succumbs amid the wreckage of the false promises that lured him to his tragic end. It is a hugely impressive performance.
The lead supporting actors are excellent. Enda Oates is a sturdy, dramatic Macduff, wholly convincing in his loyalties and integrity. Banquo is played by Mark D'Aughton, giving full value to his pivotal role. Des Braiden (Duncan), Caitríona Ní Mhurchu (Lady Macbeth), Aonghus Óg McAnally (Ross), Charlie Bonner (Malcolm) and John Olohan (Porter) are all impressive, like a seasoned repertory company in top form instead of a one-off grouping.
The numerous other actors, including the roles of the Weird Sisters and Hecate, also make their mark in this cohesive production, which maintains high values throughout. Carol Betera's set design facilitates the pace and atmosphere. Costumes by Caroline Bronwen Hughes have the right Scottish flavours, and Eamon Fox's lighting is effective.
A couple of quibbles are possible. Hecate's appearance and acrobatics are somewhat overdone and the murder of Macduff's family verges on graphic sadism. But this is a Shakespeare to remember. Gerry Colgan
Runs to February 10th (Tuesday, Thursday and Friday only).
Deadline at Andrews Lane Studio, Dublin
Hope springs eternal, not least at the birth of a play by a new author, and Robert Massey's debut goes some distance to reward that optimism. He creates well-defined characters, equips them with dialogue hot off a topical griddle and hooks into the audience's involvement. His Achilles heel is the lack of a credible plot, which reduces his work to the level of a lively but superficial entertainment.
It is enacted in a sales office reminiscent of that in David Mamet's Glengarry Glen Ross, but without that play's coruscating realities. As it opens, senior salesman Stewart is briefing rookie Alan on the tricks of their trade, in which deviousness and illusion are the main tools. Enter John, once a hotshot seller but now on the slide, and Alex, their female boss who ruthlessly keeps executive pressure on her minions. Ciarán is another trainee, but with a difference; he has family influence.
The carrot is a large cash prize for top sales, with Stewart as the hot favourite and John desperate to displace him.
As they enter dirty tricks territory, their machinations drift away from plausible reality, continually coming up with one contrived gimmick to top another. It becomes good fun rather than vicious revelation, and the ending is blurred, as if the author could not quite weave his threads into a complete fabric.
Paul Lee (Stewart) is a convincing predator, Hugh McCusker (John) a complex loser, Stephen Kelly (Alan) a gauche but willing learner, John Lynn (Ciarán) an amusing and cynical observer, and Una Crawford O'Brien (Alex) a tough driver. Pádraig Denihan's storeroom manager completes the very effective cast. Breda Cashe directs them with pace and know-how, against a good set design by Moggie Douglas. An inter- esting first, from an author worth noting. Gerry Colgan
Runs to February 25th.
The Darkness at the Point, Dublin
The Darkness rolled into Dublin on Saturday night in style with their One Way Ticket to Hell and Back tour. From the opening kick on the bass drum you knew this was going to be a good one.
Frontman Justin Hawkins appeared from under the stage riding on a giant pair of breasts - yes, you heard me - and hovered over the audience to launch into Knockers, from the new album.
The number really got the crowd going - a fast-driving track ending in a big bang that brought a gasp from even the most hardened of hard rockers. There were pyrotechnics aplenty, making some of us think we were at a Kiss concert. Then the band bounced into their latest single, the title track from the CD, a real rocking riff.
Hawkins was all speed and fancy footwork, switching from guitar to piano and back again. In between songs he joked with the fans, while the crowd was going air-guitar crazy over new tracks and old favourites. The new bass player Richie Edwards did a mini-solo that fitted in well even though he was the bald guy among a cast of long-hairs .
There where times when it was hard to know how to take them: are they Spinal Tap or a true rock band? At times they sounded too much like AC/DC or Thin Lizzy, but they knew how to play and their music was catchy. We had to wait a while til we got to their best track, I Believe in a Thing Called Love, which was blistering.
With good music, more explosions and Jumpin' Jack Flashing, this was a gig to remember. The biggest event of the night was the end of the show, when Hawkins came flying from the side of the stage on a wire and sailed across the under the ceiling playing guitar and doing somersaults - all right, this was learned from the Bon Jovi school of rock video, but it was fantastic all the same. Colm Banville
