Fintan O'Toole reviews Pondlife Angels at the Granary Theatre, Cork. Patrick Lonergan reviews The Sanctuary Lamp at the Belltable Arts Centre, Limerick.

Pondlife Angels, Granary Theatre, Cork.

The fashion for narrative and monologue among younger Irish dramatists makes it easier, in most ways, to write a play. A narrative can move more quickly and range more widely than a drama, and it avoids the tedious task of exposition through dialogue. But there is one respect in which the currently dominant style makes things tougher. A fully enacted drama doesn't have to have a big ending, and many classic plays end with a whimper. But a story draws its audience in with the promise of some kind of denouement. It demands a grand finale. It is not accidental, therefore, that plays by good contemporary writers often end with a lurid act of violence. A bloody end provides the necessary sense of closure, even if does so at the expense of a sudden descent from subtlety to schlock.

Enda Walsh's new play for Asylum Productions in Cork is a striking case in point. As might be expected from the writer of Disco Pigs and Bedbound, it is always engaging and often superb, its quirky, angular story held together by a deft control of form. Almost up to the last minute it is a compelling and impressive piece of work. And then, in search of crescendo, it plunges into the depths of bad thriller cliches for a tacky ending that almost succeeds in devaluing everything that has gone before.

The "almost" is a tribute to the quality of Donal Gallagher's production and in particular to the outstanding performance of Ailish Symons in the lead role of Jean, a young woman from the Cork working-class estate of Gurranabraher. The play is a day in her life, a day that, as we come to understand, is endlessly repeated in her disturbed mind.

We follow her from her breakfast to the Tesco store where she works on the checkouts, to the hairdresser and the pub, to her visits to her evil grandmother and her loopy aunt, and on to the wedding reception of the former boyfriend whom she still loves. Much of this journey is narrated directly by Symons but much, too, is acted out with the deftly inventive Domhnall O'Donoghue taking all the other roles, regardless of age or gender.

There is, from the start, a sense of dislocation and doom. Clothes and other objects hang in front of a brightly lit screen. Symons stands near the front of a clover-shaped playing area, designed by Olan Wrynn. Another screen, on which will be projected Martin Levis's images of sky and city, hangs over her head. Cormac O'Connor's soundtrack, a mixture of electronic music and concrete sounds, generates an uneasy energy. As O'Donoghue steps forward to dress the apparently catatonic Symons in her Tesco uniform, we see that she has a bloody wound in her side.

We quickly learn, too, that she has a phobia about passing through doorways and that her mind flicks uncontrollably from mundane concerns to paranoid or glorious visions. When someone starts leaving her anonymous post-it notes with times and places, she follows the instructions and criss-crosses the city, trying to convince herself that her former boyfriend will abandon his wedding and return to her.

What Walsh manages in his elaboration of this story and what Symons embodies so brilliantly is a riveting tension between the ordinary and the strange. The everyday world of work and family and friends, of hopes and fears in a little city, takes on an unsettlingly alien quality without becoming self-consciously bizarre. Symons is at once a completely credible Cork young one - preoccupied, sardonic, full of herself - and an automaton who is doing everything at one remove. The effect is that of a dream in which things are sharp and clear but also wrapped in some kind of unnamed oddness.

The flawless control with which this double vision is maintained in both the writing and the production makes it all the more surprising and regrettable that the whole thing should lurch into shock-horror territory at the end with the transformation of one of the characters into a ludicrous lesbian psycho caricature. Walsh is far too good a writer to need such cheap tactics and his collaborators on this otherwise impeccable piece are far too good to deserve them. Runs until June 25. - Fintan O'Toole

The Sanctuary Lamp at the Belltable Arts Centre, Limerick.

There has been renewed media debate recently about the suggestion that Tom Murphy has not achieved major international success because his works are too focused on themes of exclusively Irish interest. This Galloglas production of one of his greatest plays provides useful context for that debate. It shows that Murphy's drama certainly is resonant with Ireland's past and present - but also illustrates its universal relevance.

The play is set in an English church, where former circus strongman Harry (Douglas McFerran) confronts his friend Francisco (David Gorry) about their troubled relationships with Harry's wife. Also present is Maude (Elaine O'Dea), a disturbed teenager who claims to be haunted by visions of her dead mother and child. The interaction of these characters allows Murphy to explore important themes: the desire for forgiveness, the fear of loneliness, the pain of losing loved ones - and the relationship of all three to religion. These issues are of universal importance, but what's remarkable is how relevant The Sanctuary Lamp is to contemporary Ireland.

At its 1975 Abbey premiere, its furious condemnation of the Catholic Church made it hugely controversial - but audiences now are most likely to identify with Murphy's anger. The play moves beyond condemnation, however, offering new ways of thinking about forgiveness, compassion and community for a post-Catholic Ireland. Murphy is therefore answering questions that we have only recently begun to ask.

Despite the importance of the play, this production is occasionally disappointing. Lines are often rushed, suggesting that the cast have yet to find the rhythm and pitch of the script, while Carol Betera's set design aims for minimalism, but ends up looking cheap.

More seriously, there are times when director Caroline FitzGerald seems to back away from the more difficult aspects of the play. Characterisation is sometimes one-dimensional, and the play's central moment - when Harry raises the pulpit with a ranting Francisco in it - is presented without conviction. This is unfortunate, since the production has many strengths, including some very fine acting. But although it makes a brave attempt to rise to the challenges posed by Murphy's play, it hasn't quite overcome them yet. - Patrick Lonergan

• Touring until July 23 to Wexford, Birr, Roscommon, Dún Laoghaire, Tallaght, Waterford, Monaghan, Manorhamilton, Longford, Listowel, Macroom, Kilworth, Kilmallock and Tipperary.