Reviews

Concordeat the Hugh Lane Gallery, Dublin and A Night in Novemberat the Olympia Theatre, Dublin, are reviewed.

Concorde at the Hugh Lane Gallery, Dublin

Christopher Norby - Six Bagatelles. Marta Ptaszynska - Mobile. Arvo Pärt - Fratres. Jane O'Leary - Sunshowers.

There was something akin to an old-fashioned programme music in the piece which opened this concert by contemporary music ensemble Concorde.

Christopher Norby's Six Bagatelles - here receiving their world premiere - narrate the inspirations and frustrations of a composer's day in six brief chapters. There's an initial idea, Something Fast, with an ostinato ticking away, but then interrupted by A Break, followed by a switch to Something Melancholic, then to something dance-like, and finally capitulating with Americano in a large cup. Norby is a PhD student at the University of Ulster, where he also teaches film music. And indeed there was a cinematic aspect to this interesting and good-humoured piece which was nicely scored for flute, clarinet, violin, cello, piano and percussion.

Percussionists Richard O'Donnell and Roberto Oliveira gave their third version in two weeks of Marta Ptaszynska's 1975 Mobile. Much is left to the performers regarding how and how many of the piece's 26 sections to play. On this occasion they alternated between sections featuring non-tuned percussion - including temple blocks, castanets, sand paper, bongos - and tuned, chiefly marimba and vibraphone. With the exception of the lively crashing of floor toms and muffled tam-tams in the final section, their selection featured mostly gentle, contemplative moods.

There was probably too much of that kind of mood in this concert which felt longer than the hour. Despite the subtle distinctions between them, the four slow, quiet movements of Jane O'Leary's 18-minute Sunshowers contributed to this feeling, in which even the most engaging textures and colours - in imaginative response to the eponymous sunshowers - out-stayed their welcome.

The concert's highlight was Fratres by Arvo Pärt, in a fine version for violin and accordion by accordion-player Dermot Dunne. Joining Dunne was violinist Elaine Clark who, despite not being in the top form required to master the hellish arpeggios at the start, went on to give a thoughtful account of Pärt's tranquil, minimalist hymn. Michael Dungan

A Night in November  at the Olympia Theatre, Dublin

If football is a national drama, Marie Jones's 1994 monologue play sees its potential to be both a badge of belonging and a licence for hateful expression. Torn between these extremes we find the east Belfast dole clerk, Kenneth McCallister, a lower middle-class Protestant stewing in casual sectarianism and more pronounced status anxiety.

Patrick Kielty, in his first acting role, evokes a buttoned-down world in Ian McElhinney's smooth production, his life revolving around a well-kept home and recently approved golf club membership. The discreet bigotry that bubbles under daily conversations finally becomes full blown in the crucible of the World Cup qualifying match between Northern Ireland and the Republic, when Kenneth is immersed in the chilling chants directed against the Republic.

Troubled by his culpability in Northern Ireland's status quo, he visits the home of his Catholic boss, where his drive down the Falls Road is reported as though it was a trip to the moon.

For all Jones's intelligence and rigour, she has constructed a world of stereotypes where Protestant life is only ever represented as one of frustrated drudgery, while Catholics invariably come off as impulsive free spirits. That benefits the personable Kielty, who can clearly shift between types without ever needing to prove his chops as a more nuanced physical performer.

The dependence on types becomes more problematic when Kenneth abandons his wife and children (without word, it seems) to follow Jackie's Army to America, as a solution to his self-loathing. The Republic fans are, however, so romanticised that it's hard to invest Kenneth's conversion with much meaning.

His final line - "I am a Protestant, but I am an Irishman" - could deliberately be too glib to convince. Watching Jones's play after 14 years of political progress since it debuted, that's a sobering, vigilant thought. For all the play's comedy and undoubted optimism, in this game such harmony is never won so easily. Until Feb 23 Peter Crawley