Minneapolis and its twin city, St Paul, stand on either side of the mighty Mississippi river, which has still more than a thousand miles to flow before its reaches the sea, writes Fergus Linehan.
Unlike many cities in middle America which, to tell the truth, can be as dull as ditchwater, it is a lively, friendly and handsome place, with a thriving cultural life that includes a vibrant theatrical scene, a concert hall and symphony orchestra, and a magnificent new public library.
The jewel in its crown, though, must be the new Guthrie Theatre, which opened last summer on the banks of the river. It is the work primarily of two Irishmen, the celebrated theatre director Tyrone Guthrie (1900-1971) and of Joe Dowling, its current director. The original theatre opened in 1963, the result of conversations between Guthrie and two colleagues who were disenchanted with Broadway and its rampant commercialism.
Although Guthrie was much taken with the great river, when his theatre came to be built it was on the other side of town, well away from the Mississippi. It was a great success from the beginning, growing from a summer programme of four productions with a minimal staff to what is now a year-long theatre employing more than 900 people and playing to an audiences totalling 400,000 a year.
Clearly, after 40 years the old building had become inadequate. A feasibility study worked out that a new one would need €85 million in contributions from businesses and individuals, plus substantial support from the state of Minnesota. The private funding seems to have been achieved relatively simply, if raising such a vast sum could ever be said to be simple. In the end more than 4,000 corporations and individuals contributed. But it took three attempts before the state finally came up with €25 million in 2003.
The site of the new Guthrie is the key to its whole appearance and ethos. It stands beside the St Anthony Falls, the only waterfall in the whole continent-long course of the Mississippi. Named by a French Jesuit, Fr Louis Hennepin, who in 1680 was the first European to see them, the falls were a thundering cataract around which the local Indians had to carry their canoes. But they have long since been tamed by a series of weirs, and a deep water channel with huge locks through which large boats can travel.
Along these banks, serving the vast wheatlands of the prairies, grew up what was the largest flour-milling centre in the world. Huge mills, silos and warehouses abounded on both sides of the river. But time and technology made these buildings redundant and the area fell into decay, turning it into a run-down, almost no-go, part of Minneapolis. The Guthrie is the landmark building which, it is hoped, will lead the way to a complete renewal of the whole district, and already the old mills and warehouses are becoming apartment blocks, museums and restaurants, while riverside parks bring in walkers, runners and cyclists.
The new Guthrie Theatre is the first building to be designed in the United States by the eminent French architect Jean Nouvel. His reputation is for buildings harmonious with their sites and surroundings, and this is certainly what makes the new theatre so striking and original.
When one first sees it, as I did on a cold, rainy day, it comes as something of a shock, a massive block that looks almost like a factory. But it gives itself up to one gradually. What looks grey in the rain is actually a deep, twilight blue. What seem to be industrial chimneys are tall, black stacks, down which at night, in bright yellow lights, run the names of the plays currently in performance.
The ground-floor area has huge portraits of theatrical luminaries - Guthrie himself, Shaw, Chekhov and Eugene O'Neill - while scenes from past Guthrie productions have been subtly incorporated into interior walls, emerging ghost-like as one passes. A series of windows, framed with mirrors, give contrasting views of the river, falls and a handsome old stone bridge, now pedestrianised. But the most striking feature of all is the long, cantilevered arm that sticks out over the river bank. Dubbed "The Endless Bridge", it is actually a lobby, at the end of which one can sit in the open air, looking out at the river.
Inside, the building has a range of restaurants, bars and a shop, together with three auditoriums. The biggest of these, the Wurtele Thrust Stage, is a replica, with some modifications, of the original Guthrie Theatre and holds 1,200 seats arranged in an amphitheatre. There is also a conventional 700-seater proscenium arch space and a 250-seat black box experimental space, named the Dowling Studio. Add to this a series of rehearsal rooms, offices and a huge separate building for the construction and storage of sets and one realises what a formidable undertaking the whole concern is.
With so much going on and such a massive underpinning needed, the Guthrie will face huge challenges. Not the least will be to maintain its artistic standards while bringing in the sizeable audiences necessary to keep the enterprise going. Allowing for the outstanding abilities of its director and staff, it has, however, one other great advantage which few if any theatres in Ireland possess. The Guthrie is a community theatre in a way we hardly know in our country.
There is a genuine feeling among the citizens of Minneapolis that this is their theatre - a feeling reflected in the many volunteers who work front-of-house for nothing. There are open days, when every aspect of the theatre's work, backstage and front, is available to anyone who wants to walk in, take the tour and even try on the costumes. There are interviews with world-famous writers and directors, talks, children's days, touring productions round the state of Minnesota and sometimes further afield.
This constant reaching out to its audiences bodes well for the Guthrie Theatre's future and offers lessons which our often inward-looking theatres could learn profitably.