Irish Times writers review True West in the Peacock, Fiddler on the Roof at the Gaiety Theatre and The Flaws in Whelans.
True West, Peacock, Dublin
In Matthew Warchus's production of Sam Shepard's True West on Broadway in 2000, Phillip Seymour Hoffman and John C Reilly alternated the two lead roles. The device was more than a gimmick. Role reversal is what the play is about. The nerdy, Ivy League screenwriter Austin becomes more and more like his wild brother Lee, a hard-drinking housebreaker who has been living in the Mojave desert. Lee hijacks Austin's relationship with a movie producer and sets out to write his own true-life Western. As Austin complains, the producer, Saul, "thinks we're the same person". By alternating the roles, Hoffman and Reilly were able to get so far inside the head of the other character that they made this perception a felt reality on stage.
The notion that the two brothers might be split halves of what would be one healthy whole personality is what defines the place of True West in contemporary drama. There is a particular Irish genealogy to the idea. Shepard's siblings are reminiscent of the two brothers in Harold Pinter's The Homecoming, who in turn derive in part from Tom Murphy's A Whistle in the Dark. Looking forward, True West itself clearly helped to spark Martin McDonagh's The Lonesome West. So the device by Hoffman and Reilly was an attempt to express something that has a particular place in the architecture of Irish theatre.
Jimmy Fay, in this production (itself partly a reprise of a production he did for the Lyric in Belfast two years ago) approaches the same idea from a different angle. Anyone familiar with Irish theatre who was told that Declan Conlon and Aidan Kelly were to play the brothers in True West would assume that the cool, precise and cerebral Conlon would play Austin and the more brooding, macho Kelly would be Lee. Fay, however, seems to have deliberately cast against type. The hope, presumably, was that each could bring out the opposing elements in his character, giving substance to their gradual fusion. It is a brave and highly intelligent idea, but one that proves in practice to be somewhat problematic.
It is, perhaps, easier for a flamboyant actor to play things down than it is for a quiet actor to play things up. Certainly, Kelly slips comfortably into Austin's nervous, whingeing, cowed persona, so much so that although he is physically bigger than Conlon, he makes himself seem more slight. Johanna Connor's excellent costumes enhance the effect, with big glasses and an anonymous cardigan giving him the feel of a man who is happy to hide himself, to withdraw.
Conlon, however, is less convincing. His performance is typically thoughtful and technically astute, and he moves around Ferdia Murphy's brilliant but spatially complicated set with admirable grace. But he doesn't do swagger. Lee is a wild animal, a pungent, feral presence. He is also a dominating bully, whose air of barely suppressed menace intimidates others. Conlon is naturally none of these things. The problem is not that he isn't a good enough actor to come close to suggesting them (he is and he does) but that the effort involved results in a tightly wound, internalised performance.
The aspect of the play that misses out because of this is the comedy. With Conlon having to concentrate so hard, the production can't reach the level of relaxed enjoyment where the emotional desert of the brothers' relationship blooms into black farce. The instinctive timing, the speed of thought, that make real comedy happen are not - or at least not yet - quite there. There are funny moments, but it is a stop-start journey rather than the free-wheeling comic excursion that it could become.
What we get is a robust, well-staged, skilful account of a modern classic that for anyone who hasn't seen the play before, is well worth a visit. What we don't get is that other dimension, where sorrow, cruelty and pain become irresistibly, achingly funny. - Fintan O'Toole
Until Apr 22
Fiddler on the Roof, Gaiety Theatre, Dublin
Forty years after its Broadway debut, Fiddler on the Roof was still garnering nominations in 2004 for Tony and Drama Desk Awards in several categories, and the current production by Rathmines & Rathgar Musical Society makes the reasons for its durability very clear. It is an exceptional musical based on stories by Jewish writer Sholom Aleichem, with an authenticity that surely inspired its creators (book by Joseph Stein, lyrics by Sheldon Harnick, music by Jerry Bock) to such delightful harmony.
It is the story of a Jewish village in Russia at the start of the 20th century, wedded to its traditional beliefs and practices. We are immediately into the business of made marriages as three girls, daughters of Tevye the milkman, sing a comic number about it. He has difficulty with the notion that his girls now object to his choosing their husbands.
The first act closes on the plaintive Sunrise, Sunset as his eldest daughter flies the nest. The next girl will marry a revolutionary student and join him in Siberia. But the third really puts big-hearted Tevye's affections to the test by marrying out of the faith. The downbeat but hopeful ending sees the people being forced from the village into diaspora. Garry Mountaine is immense as Tevye, in the tradition of earlier stars such as Zero Mostel and Topol, and Irene Gaffney is excellent as his wife Golde.
The action is studded with memorable songs - If I Were a Rich Man, the beautiful Sabbath Prayer, Now I Have Everything, the comic Do You Love Me and more - enhanced by a very large chorus and clever quasi-Russian choreography. The lyrics and dialogue, with their Jewish cadences and idioms, are finely delivered in this musical treat for eye and ear. - Gerry Colgan
Until Apr 8, with matinees Apr 1 & 8
The Flaws, Whelan's, Dublin
Pop music loves a "buzz". And right now there is a buzz around the Flaws, a rock group from Carrickmacross who have not yet released an album, but who are hip enough to have a myspace page and confident enough to take the "next big thing" tag in their extremely brisk stride.
The Flaws' success story already sounds premature, preposterous and cliched. On the strength of a self-financed EP (containing four songs), the group have signed a five-album deal with the major label Polydor.
Despite their obvious talents and boundless energy, this says slightly more about the music industry than the Flaws. Major labels swoon for precocious young groups, seeing in their swagger the promise of instant success. (This is also why so many bands are dropped when their first album tanks.)
All of which makes the Flaws' name seem both brave and ironic; because judging from their often-exhilarating appearance in Whelan's, they've left little room for improvement. Tousle-haired, thin and energetic, the Flaws are a band of their time; brought up on the new wave surge of the early 1980s and led to a place where the abrasion of punk meets the melodies of pop.
Opening with the full-throttle Out Tonight, they rip through their brief set with the energy of a bomb disposal unit. But for all the life-or-death hysteria of Paul Finn's vocals (sounding, at times, eerily like new-wave revivalist Brandon Flowers) and his furious rhythm guitar, the group's tight dynamic is more careful and considered.
While they balance the catchy mania of You & I and 1981 with a couple of obligatory, ponderous ballads, a nearby gathering of girls use the lull to carefully select their favourite Flaw. So long as the Flaws aren't planning to peak with their sixth album, neither they, nor Polydor, are acting too hasty. - Peter Crawley
