An Evening With Wee Daniel
Bewley’s Cafe Theatre, Dublin
★★★☆☆
Aoife Sweeney O’Connor is here for an examination of growing up nonbinary in Donegal and of how Daniel O’Donnell acts on that county’s collective psyche. O’Connor plays both themself and, rocking back gently into a sweet smile, the Jim Reeves of Dungloe (more properly Kincasslagh, as the text explains).
Fans of O’Donnell need fear no cheap ridicule or boundary-pushing raunch. An Evening With Daniel is no more offensive than, one imagines, would be an actual hour in the presence of that singer. The narrator shows nothing but the greatest respect to the piece’s inspiration. There is barely a swear word to be heard. Fret not, Danatics. This is all good clean fun.
Dressed in a suit that may have once belonged to O’Donnell, standing before a curtain of golden tinsel, O’Connor, an impressive raconteur, intersperses personal narrative with confidently warbled original songs. As the piece progresses, Wee Daniel becomes little more than a supportive chorus, there to laugh or to soothe. “They don’t call me Daniel Woke Donnell for nothing,” he says.
We learn about O’Connor’s grandparents’ experiences in the area. We learn how the young Aoife always felt more comfortable in cargo trousers and Converse sneakers. The only time O’Donnell raises an objection is when the author admits they were not actually born in the county. Never mind being nonbinary. Entering the world in Dublin might just be too much.
It’s all very cute and very charming. We don’t hear of much genuine intolerance but do get impressions of older relatives being gently confused by the direction of O’Connor’s life. A late song that declares “the countryside is here for the queers” receives sincere ovation as it touches on the unacknowledged gay neighbours Irish people of all ages will remember from their childhoods. O’Connor’s tribute to their late mother is properly moving.
For all that, a little more grit in the mechanism would be appreciated. An Evening With Daniel is, at times, so ingenuously sweet it borders on theatrical hyperglycaemia. The kindness of Donegal is here. The ruggedness is not. Perhaps that’s how Daniel would want it.
Continues at Bewley’s Cafe Theatre, as part of Dublin Fringe Festival, until Saturday, September 21st
