Ghosts, Lyric Theatre, Belfast, Jane CoyleThe mysterious, watery world of Strangford Lough stretches out from the coast of Co Down for some 20 miles; invading Vikings named it strang fjord, meaning strong currents.
It is bounded on one side by the spindly arm of the Ards peninsula, the home of farmers and fishermen whose ancestors were mainly Presbyterian Lowlands Scots who starting crossing the North Channel in the 17th century.
These are the people whom the writer and director Conall Morrison has chosen for the renamed characters in his new version of Ibsen's once controversial play, described in 1891 by the Daily Telegraph as "a dirty act done publicly . . . an open drain". Although it functions a little like an island, the peninsula is not the vast frozen wastes of Scandinavia, where people can retreat into voluntary isolation, concealing terrible secrets beneath tight-lipped, fundamentalist morality.
Still, even in this period presentation, audiences will have no difficulty recognising the unyielding attitudes that have caused the free-thinking widow Helen Irving (Stella McCusker) to paper over the sickening reality of her loveless marriage for so long.
She has lived for many years in a glass cocoon through which she glimpses the ghosts of the past that she carries inside her. Everyone who enters or leaves her beautiful home does so through the smudged glass of Sabine Dargent's magnificent set. Only when they are safely inside do their thoughts and actions clarify, emerging into startlingly bold definition from the opaqueness of the world outside. But although the setting and characters more or less fit their new environment, the Ulsterised speech patterns waver inconsistently, and the actors seem oddly out of sync with their roles.
This is a jagged, jolting production, punctuated by some peculiar pausing and phrasing, a few first-night fluffs and fumbles and rather a lot of hammy acting. The young people - the syphilitic Oswald and the upwardly aspiring Regina, played by Damian O'Hare and Lesley-Ann Shaw - seem submerged by the weight of emotion and predestined tragedy placed on their slender shoulders. And not even McCusker's pale, tense Mrs Irving, Sandy Neilson's buttoned-up Rev Webster or Walter McMonagle's cute hoor James Armstrong can summon up the drive to bring Ibsen's mighty play home to the shocked silence of its disturbing conclusion.
Detlef Roth & Dearbhla Collins
Hugo Wolf Festival, Dublin
Douglas Sealy
In the first of 10 recitals that will include all the songs from Hugo Wolf's principal collections, Detlef Roth (baritone) and Dearbhla Collins (piano) brought a Schubertian warmth and lyricism to a selection of 22 songs, emphasising how closely connected Wolf was to the tradition of the German lied.
This was achieved by a soft-focus approach to the piano part, so that instead of being the most interesting and important musical ingredient, demanding at least as much attention as the voice, it tended to remain in the background and become mere accompaniment.
This worked quite well in Fussreise (Journey On Foot) and Gesang Weylas (Weyla's Song), but in the quirky Der Tambour (The Drummer), where the drummer boy wishes his mother were a witch, so she could transform his drum into a cauldron of sauerkraut, the piano part needs to be wittily incisive rather than sympathetically indulgent.
Similarly, the verbal characterisations of swashbucklers and soldiers of fortune in the Eichendorff songs, cleverly individualised by the singer, needed more swagger from the piano, a little more of the spirit so ably shown in Abschied (Farewell), where the composer kicks the impertinent critic down the stairs.
In a recital where almost every song demands a different approach, some will suit the performers more than others, and the macabre atmosphere of Der Feuerreiter (The Fire Rider) was superbly conveyed, as was the grim vignette of Seemanns Abschied (The Sailor's Farewell).
Robert Ballagh
Crawford Gallery, Cork
Mark Ewart
Robert Ballagh is one of the most important figures in Irish contemporary art. His influence is pervasive, ranging from the pupils studying in our classrooms to his designs for the old Irish banknotes.
The accessible nature of these paintings comes mainly from his use of clear literal imagery, which ruminates upon Ireland's history and the protagonists who have shaped it. His political views are suggested rather than shouted, however, leaving some scope for differing interpretations. A portrait of Gerry Adams surveying the landscape, for example - surely contemplating a united Ireland - is largely unequivocal. A postmodernist might see it differently, though, as the composition resembles those of the German romantic artist Caspar David Friedrich and therefore suggests an idealistic rather than realist context.
Ballagh uses numerous devices to bring us into these paintings. The obvious one is his photorealist style, which renders spaces and forms in painstaking detail. The work brings us beyond the mere craft of painting, as a surreal edge note nearly always counterpoises the realism. Formats are diverse and engaging, with irregularly shaped canvases and 3D constructions adding wonderfully to the illusion of space.
A tribute to the artist Michael Farrell, a centrepiece of the show, is in particular a testimony to Ballagh's lively sense of exploration and experimentation. He deals with each aspect of the painting in a measured way, with not a brushstroke out of place. It is almost as if the paintings are miniatures exploded to a huge scale.
For devotees of the painterly brushstroke, Ballagh's work might appear somewhat sterile, maybe even a bit gimmicky. For most, the fastidious control serves as an open invitation into the work - to read the layers of history and meaning that have surfaced throughout Ballagh's career. It's an informative journey, a tribunal of truth rather than lies.
Buddy
Cork Opera House
Mary Leland
When Buddy Holly died, in 1959, at the age of 23, he had enjoyed only 18 months of fame. Those few months are jammed into the scenario for Buddy - and they are not enough.
The welcome solution has been to make almost the entire second act a concert, a version of the last one Holly gave. It is so well done that the auditorium vibrates. The presentation, by Triumph Entertainment in a production written by Alan James and directed by Paul Mills after the original work by Rob Bettinson, is packed with energy.
The cast performs a multitude of roles without stinting on any of them, and the impression is that the youthful enthusiasm of Buddy Holly and the Crickets inspires a generosity that makes this not just a cheerful, professional and crowd-pleasing entertainment but a display of well-educated professionalism at its best.
Of course the songs carry a lot of their original punch; what's so impressive is the way the cast catches the style, the movement, the sometimes frantic activity of each "act".
Ricky Rojas, for example, as Ritchie Valens is just as thrillingly manic as the lamented original - no easy thing. Jaymz Denning as the Big Bopper fuelled by his microphone, James Hadden as drummer Jery Allison, Tony Feeney as Mauldin on double bass, Denise Pitter and Serena Giacomini are only a few of the people who set this stage and this audience alight.
Buddy is played either by L. J. Urbani or Gus McGregor; Urbani is fluid and exciting, although not quite weedy enough to be physically convincing, a fault he overcomes with the commitment of his performance and the quality of his captivating voice.
As a tribute as well as an evocation of Buddy Holly and his times this production has integrity; I went expecting to hear the sound of Zimmer frames being cast away, but I left to the roar of the dancing crowds.
