Irish Times writers review The Glass Menagerie at the Everyman Palace in Cork, David Byrne at the Olympia Theatre in Dublin, The Hostage at the New Theatre in Dublin and 38 & 39 at the Square, Civic Theatre in Tallaght.
The Glass Menagerie
Everyman Palace, Cork
Mary Leland
There can be few more magical moments in theatre than the opening scene of this production. As Tennessee Williams wrote the scene, the audience is invited to experience truth disguised as illusion. While these introductory words are uttered by Tom, the narrator and agent of the play's climax, a perspective as precise as a Vermeer interior is unveiled behind him. Patrick Murray's set works backwards; its boxed confines suggest the focus of a camera obscura, yet its consistently functional elements, beautifully lit by Paul Denby, can accommodate suggestions of the stifling urban landscape in which the characters are trapped.
The slow unfolding suggested by this visual coherence is sometimes a little too slow, but director Pat Talbot has ensured that moments of decisive clarity are caught in the cadences of speech, especially by Myles Horgan as Tom. His sturdy grasp of reality can accommodate his lyric memories; crucially, he avoids the danger of allowing the play to drift into downright comedy, although there are a few threatening moments. The pathos of Julie Sharkey's Laura and the fated optimism of Raymond Scannell as the gentleman caller achieve their significance in the structural mass of this play, in that they spell out their little history between the collisions of the two major roles, those of Tom and his mother, Amanda.
Barbara Babcock roots this faded and impoverished southern belle in an idiom she understands, making the shrillness of Amanda's motherhood the counterpoint to her toxic nostalgia. Hers, not the reclusive Laura's, is the tragedy of this story: from the belle of Blue Mountain to the Mrs Bennett of St Louis, frantic in her efforts to provide for her daughter, the truth of Amanda Wingfield emerges from the mist of her own illusions. This is not a sentimental play nor, for all its delicacy, a trivial one, and here it achieves all its meaning and all its impact.
Runs until August 14th
David Byrne
Olympia Theatre, Dublin
Kevin Courtney
Look into David Byrne's eyeball and you might see a world of music reflected in those ever-alert lenses. Since even before Talking Heads disbanded, 15 years ago, Byrne has tirelessly sought out new sounds and ideas. For this concert on his My Backwards Life tour he treated us to an entertaining sonic lecture in musical anthropology. We didn't get close enough to see the whites of his eyes, but even from the back of the venue you couldn't miss the sparkle.
At 52 Byrne has probably earned the right to kick back and mellow out, and there are a few quiet moments during his set when it looks as if we're in for a chin-stroking armchair ride, but suddenly Byrne's band will break into the tribal beat of I Zimbra, and the man himself will be jerking and shaking like his younger, twitchier self. Byrne's gangly frame is wrapped in workman's overalls and topped by a crop of grey hair; he looks as if he's come round to fix your phone, but in fact he's here to communicate some complex ideas through the idiom of song and dance.
Byrne is backed by bassist Paul Frazier, drummer Graham Hawthorne and percussionist Mauro Refosco, but the meat of the music is provided by the six-strong Tosca Strings, who colour the sound with sweeping brush strokes, swift flicks and soft, carefully applied lines. Drawing mostly from his two most recent albums, Look Into The Eyeball and Grown Backwards, Byrne still leaves room for the nostalgists, playing numerous Talking Heads tunes and giving their arrangements a subtle twist. This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody) has lost none of its innocence, while Road To Nowhere is widened out by the empty musical spaces. Once In A Lifetime delivers a mid-show climax and allows Byrne to shift the mood with a reading of Un Dì Felice, Eterea, from Verdi's La Traviata. He's no Pavarotti, but he managed just fine without a hanky.
The stabbing violins and cellos of the Tosca Strings gave Psycho Killer a Hitchcockian edge and Life During Wartime an apocalyptic party vibe. Something for everyone from every culture, then, and even a finale of Lazy, Byrne's latter-day dance anthem, for young clubbers in the audience.
The Hostage
New Theatre, Dublin
Gerry Colgan
Brendan Behan died 40 years ago, but his legend lives on. He is still remembered as the laughing Irish boy, filled with a humanity that gave his work, and notably his plays, an individuality that brought him international fame but also set him on the path to self-destruction.
The laughter and the humanity may well have been true in a personal sense, but time has sadly put his plays in an unflattering perspective. The Quare Fellow is now a tedious bore and Richard's Cork Leg an unfinished shambles. That leaves The Hostage - there were no others - now being staged at the New Theatre in his memory.
This production, directed by Ronan Wilmot, does not redeem a play that has become steadily bowdlerised over the years. It started life as An Giall, written in Gaelic. Only when it went to London under its present title, to be transformed by Joan Littlewood to the point where it is impossible to know how to divide the credits between her and the author, did it achieve fame.
Raw comedy seems to have been the touchstone of its London and subsequent successes, but this new outing incorporates an exploration of its social and political philosophies. This merely stifles laughter while highlighting a poverty of thought.
A tragedy set in a Dublin brothel that is run by an ageing and embittered patriot - and inhabited by prostitutes, a transvestite, a holy Joe, an IRA fanatic and more - comes over as an attempt to be shocking and Rabelaisian. Inevitably, time and familiarity have blunted the edge of its calculated excesses.
The acting is generally sound, notably from Anthony Fox and Orna Joyce as the hostage and his lover. Wilmot's direction tries, I think, for too much, and some of his devices - the occasional assembling of the entire cast on stage for atmosphere, and the aria sung at the end - do not work. But the attempt shows, at least, that Brendan Behan's plays are not the stuff of immortality; far, very far, from it.
Runs until August 28th
38 & 39
The Square, Civic Theatre, Tallaght
Gerry Colgan
Out of the Blue Theatre Company, which has been in existence for seven years, has one unusual distinction: its members write, produce and direct all their own work. They entertain in what might be termed the outer reaches of theatre - suburban community centres, clubs, women's groups and so on - and assist these with fund-raising as for charities.
Their latest offering is a new play written by Donal Dillane and directed by Sean Ronan, two company stalwarts who take leading roles in it themselves. It is an unashamed farce, populist in plot and in general intent. The funny bone is the target, and the missiles aimed at it are the staples of sex, drink and religion. Although the play cannot be said to condescend to its audiences, neither does it try to cater for a more subtle sense of humour.
Two families live in the adjoining houses of the title, located in middle-class Tallanure. One family - husband Alan, wife Bernie and layabout son Eddie - like the low life and are always quarrelling. The other is dominated by wife Davina, who is still a virgin, runs the Padre Pio Society, cows husband Christy and conspires with sister Anastasia in superstitious endeavour. They believe that the reverend Padre has been reincarnated in their house as a teddy bear.
That's the general flavour. Bernie gets a sex thing going with Christy, Anastasia does ditto with the local priest, Davina fashions an improbable miracle for her teddy saint.
The action can be quite ingenious at times, and it has some funny moments, but this is generally a low-flying affair that eventually screeches to an unexpected halt. It is, however, clear that the company has identified an audience and caters for it, to be rewarded with laughter - and that is the name of its game. Cheers.
Ends on Saturday
