The Government Inspector

review Abbey Theatre

It must have seemed like a great idea: take Gogol’s snappy satire on the petty corruption of small town officials in Czarist Russia, transpose it to an Irish idiom and let the resonances and parallels role. In the capable hands of the observant and ever-witty Roddy Doyle and director Jimmy Fay, a man with proven comic sensibilities, what could possibly go wrong? Well, quite a lot actually – the most basic problem being that for much of the time it just isn’t funny enough. There are some real gems in there – the scene where the mistaken ‘Government Inspector’, invited to sup at the mayor’s house, is by turn slobbered over by a bevy of fawning sycophants and a lusty and highly competitive mother and daughter combo, is a sheer delight – but they only serve to highlight the lack of spark elsewhere. An over-reliance on slapstick mightn’t be to everyone’s taste, but if it’s done well it can really work; here, alas, it’s just a bit tedious.

Despite the large cast it’s all a tad underwhelming, and even some of the old reliables aren’t always up to scratch – Don Wycherley’s Mayor, for example, is all shouts and growls, although Marion O’Dwyer and Liz Fitzgibbon as his wife and daughter are a much better match. Conor Murphy’s complicated revolving set works best when the bare bones are exposed – stairs going nowhere and doors opening into nowhere else, but what’s with all the plastic sacks? As for the Irishness, a fair few brown envelopes work their way into the equation, but we’re still dealing with a confusing profusion of Ivanoviches and Alexandroviches along with a mishmash of costumes – why not go the whole hog and give us a proper bit of paddywhackery. All in all, the proverbial curate’s egg, good in parts.

Macbeth

Abbey Theatre, til Sat 15 May

Jimmy Fay’s production of the Scottish Play aspires to offer us something of an Irish dimension – an interesting proposition, but one that gets a bit (ahem) bogged down, and while the paganistic sounds emanating from the witches mouths at the start of the play could definitely be part of some ancient Irish druidic ritual, the clunky Cromwellian costumes don’t lend much to the proceedings. Added to this a set which, for the first few minutes, sees the cast clambering over a sort of mud pile to get out on stage, and you could say that this show has the odds stacked against it. But it is, of course, a terrific play, and even though it’s very familiar there are times when the language just reaches out and grabs you, and there are scenes which you could swear you’ve never seen before.

Traditionally Macbeth is portrayed as a great man gone to the bad, but Aidan Kelly’s Macbeth never seems to reach those heights; rather he comes across as someone who has bitten off way more than he can chew, a bit of a gombeen man even – an apt enough parallel given the times we’re in, but unfortunately one that is not convincing on stage, particularly when set beside Eileen Walshe’s performance as his lady wife, passionate, consuming and gut-wrenching. There’s plenty of action, even some nifty sword-fighting, and the large cast get well into the spirit of things, but it somehow doesn’t all quite gel. Staging some of some of the scenes shadow-like behind a raised, back-lit screen is a clever device, but it’s also a bit alienating. The lighting though is superb – murky and malevolent, a dark and gloomy underworld. www.abbeytheatre.ie

Christ Deliver Us

When the opening images of dark-frocked priests flit across the stage in Tom Kilroy’s new play Christ Deliver Us, your heart sinks – not another tale of clerical doom and gloom. But while there is some of that, there’s a lot more going on. Set in 1950s rural Ireland, the first act is an intricate portrayal of small-town adolescence – school, caning, hurling, courting – a series of short scenes, some harsh but others filled with the eagerness and innocence of youth. It’s only really in the second act that the going gets tough – and then tougher still, as the twin status quo of church and respectability rears its ugly and oppressive head, taking the proverbial sledgehammer to any curious and enquiring young minds. The thirst for knowledge is certainly not going to be slaked in this grim scenario, and straying from the straight and narrow will absolutely not be tolerated.

In a way, Kilroy’s play is showing where we have come from, and how far we may or may not have travelled in the interim, but although he rounds things off with a redemption of sorts (which I personally could have done without), there isn’t any real sense of connection with the present. Nevertheless it’s an engaging piece of theatre, with some wonderfully poetic language. It’s also pretty bleak, although what could have been a decidedly mawkish piece is given a degree of light-heartedness by director Wayne Jordan, who keeps things moving with a sure touch, bringing a playful feel to the many scene-changes and neatly incorporating Colin Dunne’s clever choreography. Terrifically staged on Naomi Wilkinson’s evocative bare-boarded set, with its mean little window high up on the wall, there’s some very fine acting from the large ensemble cast, particularly the leading trio of Aoife Duffin, Aaron Monaghan and Laurence Kinlan. www.abbeytheatre.ie

The Party

For Anu’s production of The Party, Bewleys upstairs has morphed into a sophisticated drawing room, with elegant furniture, pretty lighting and even a piano. It’s the backdrop for this absorbing, pitch-perfect adaptation of Chekhov’s short story, finely wrought by Caitriona Ni Mhurchu and Sophie Motley and brought to life in Motley’s accomplished production. Moving beyond the confines of the stage, Ni Mhurchu embodies the role of Olya, heavily pregnant, weary and overwhelmed by the heat and noise of her husband’s birthday party as she recalls the events of that momentous day. The shallowness of the guests, her handsome husband flirting with a pretty young girl, her own complicit hypocrisy, the hints of darkness beneath the surface, she portrays it all with an unflinching candour, by turn passionate and languid. And in true Chekhovian style, it ends not with a bang but with a whimper. Til Sat 20 Feb @lunchtime www.bewleyscafetheatre.com

Knives in Hens

Smock Alley Theatre

There’s bucketloads of atmosphere in this show: staged in the cavernous empty space of Smock Alley, the audience seated on three sides on church pews or bare benches, a peat-strewn floor, rough wooden structures, hazy lighting and a live musician - plus a terrific script and three very fine actors. But it doesn’t quite all add up. As much about the power of words as the struggle for power, on the one side is the status quo of the earthy village ploughman (Vincent Regan) with his precious horses. On the other is the distant miller (Lorcan Cranitch, maybe a tad miscast), despised and reviled for his difference and his living off the labour of others. In the middle is the ploughman’s wife (a magnificent Catherine Walker), luminous in her thirst for knowledge and her wonder at the world, voicing what she sees – bird, cloud, tree – almost like some aboriginal naming ritual. Making great use of the huge performance area, the opening scenes are quite enthralling, but there is a gradual nagging feeling that instead of developing and growing everything stays more or less the same. Despite her credentials, flautist Eleanor Dawson is the production’s weakest link. What starts out as evocative and haunting becomes a bit monotonous and dreary after a while, and the vocal elements just feel incongruous. www.landmarkproductions.ie

Fringe Reviews

One Penny Operas

6 dancers and a one man band – double bass, guitar, electronics, saws and bowls of various sizes – get together for this playful piece of dance improv. At first there’s a lot of walking about but when the performers find their feet, so to speak, what evolves is an engaging 30 minutes of individual and interactive dance coupled with some very interesting sounds. The location, on the top floor of DanceHouse with its big walls of glass high above the trees, gives it an exotic feel. What a great way to spend your lunch hour. The show alas is finished, but DanceHouse is worth a visit any time. www.danceireland.ie

Power Point (Camden Court Hotel)

Name-tagged and system dairy in hand, you find yourself in an anonymous boardroom, waiting for who knows what. Mary Point, overweight and sweaty in her ill-fitting suit, introduces her heroes; the evangelical Jack and Jill Power descend on you like locusts and WHAM - there you are, in corporate motivational hell. Cliches have never sounded so scary nor exhortations so empty – Hands Up! they yell as they bombard you with questions, twisting metaphors and logic as they go. But then the cracks appear and their perfectly coiffed surfaces begin to implode, with Mary like a little piggy in the middle, torn between adoration and terror. This is fast and furious stuff, very funny and cleverly written, though it does meander a bit when the long lost son turns up. There’s a nice touch of humanity at the end. www.theperformancecorporation.com

A Useful Play (Project)

Conceived as a working model for a film he might make, Gerardo Naumann’s play is like a prolonged rehearsal, with all the minutia involved in such a project – shooting the lead parts from different angles, using printed t-shirts or slices of (increasingly burnt) toast as storyboards and generally employing the cast of nearly 20 extras as props. Based on an unknown woman’s discarded diary, the story itself is mildly interesting but what tends to hold the attention is the way the extras reveal something of their personalities in the process. Punctuated by occasional live shots from the street, it’s quite clever and at times quite funny, but it’s also a tad self-indulgent and in the end it doesn’t add up to very much. Naumann himself wonders whether it should have in fact been called A Useless Play – draw your own conclusions.

This Is Our Youth

This latest show from Bedrock (at Project til Sat 27) is definitely worth catching. Written in the 90s (by Ken Lonergan) about the 80s, it’s surprisingly up to the minute, and although it takes a while to get going and is a bit hampered by the small performance space, you’re left with plenty to savour. There’s some really succinct writing and snappy dialogue from Lonergan, who manages to be entertaining and thought-provoking at the same time. The interaction of his three characters – self-obsessed Dennis, restless, awkward Warren and preppy, nihilistic Jessica, spoilt slackers all – creates a much bigger picture, cleverly setting off the shallowness of Dennis against the troubled desperation of Warren, and spiking them both with the seemingly trite, but on reflection quite sharp observations of Jessica.

The first half hour or so is fairly amusing but not exactly riveting, but stick with it, as things really kick off when Jessica appears on the scene. Director Jimmy Fay draws great performances from a well-chosen cast, with Conor Madden’s narcissistic Dennis a truly monstrous creation, Charlie Murphy sparkling as Jessica, and Ciaran O’Brien in particular excelling as the struggling Warren, capturing all the nuances of his painful coming-of-age. www.bedrockproductions.com, www.project.ie

The Comedy of Errors

Abbey Theatre til Sat 2 May

Ok, so it's a ridiculous plot, but it's alot of fun: not one but two sets of identical twins (masters and servants) separated as babies in a violent shipwreck which also sees their parents swept away to who knows where - and they all end up in the same place on the same day? Add to the delicious confusion of this unlikely equation that each set of twins has the same name, and you're beginning to get the picture. Mind you, the fact that one twin has set out in search of the other, but doesn't twig when complete strangers start greeting him as an old friend, not to mention a husband, makes you want to shake him. Delightful silliness abounds, as mistaken identity piles upon mistaken identity, but of course you know it will all end happily ever after.

Rather than going with the flow, director Jason Byrne highlights the play's artifice, putting everything on view - visible wings, scaffolding sets with doors or windows tacked on where necessary, lots of playacting, canned laughter, sudden non-sequitur bursts of dancing to loud music by the entire cast, and very noisy scene changes. You can see what he's getting at, but the latter two devices become a bit grating after a while, and although there are some great comic turns from the likes of Peter Daly and Rory Nolan, the hardworking cast sometimes have a bit of an uphill battle to keep the show on the road. Good fun nonetheless.

Solemn Mass for a Full Moon in Summer

Project, til Sat 28 March

This is an ambitious play both in structure and concept, and Rough Magic have given it a worthy production, but maybe it's a bit too worthy for its own good. The daring format brings together the elements of a grand choral mass - kyrie, agnus dei etc - and the whole is an invocation to the moon (what is it about the moon this month?) performed by a series of couples, most of whom are soul-searching in an intense and almost confessional manner, though the show is stolen early on by the ardent and joyful passion of young lovers Isabelle and Yannick.

Personally I found the religious overtones a tad ponderous, but there's no denying the quality of the production, and although individual voices are at times a bit lost within the confines of Paul O'Mahony's impressive vertical set, the complexities of the choral interplay are handled with admirable dexterity by a fine cast. www.projectartscentre.ie

Sam Shepard: Ages of the Moon

Peacock Theatre, til Sat 14 April

A sort of grumpy old men for the 21st century with shades of Beckett, as two old friends sit on a porch in the middle of nowhere, one invading the other's jealously guarded history. Ames is licking his wounds because his wife has thrown him out, Byron is there to pick up the pieces and be at the receiving end of Ames's increasingly abusive outbursts. There's alot of bourbon, a gun, a bit of fun with a ceiling fan, a rambling story about Roger Miller and the promise of a lunar eclipse. It's entertaining, you think, but maybe not worth writing a whole new play for. And then suddenly you're in there, hook, line and sinker, surrounded by the truth of your own mortality.

Great performances from Stephen Rea as Ames and Sean McGinley as Byron - initially the balance is weighted towards Rea, gruff, jumpy and acerbic, but McGinley really comes into his own in the final part of the play. Beautiful lighting from Paul Keoghan, as the sky slowly shifts from a soft empty blue to the dark night of a total eclipse. www.abbeytheatre.ie

Positive Dead People

Bewleys lunchtime, til 14 March

This is a hoot! Two very different brides meet in the  most unlikely of circumstances. Mo is cool and contained, Millie is flouncy and a bit hyper, but they have one thing in common - they're both dead. The best day of their lives has also turned out to be the last day of their lives, and they now find themselves, still clad in their wedding finery - 'mind the dress' is a constant refrain - in a sort of waiting room for whatever happens next, debating the merits of the afterlife: on the positive side, there is a sofa, a novel (Great Expectations), and chocolate eclairs.

Mo has got there first, so there's a bit of a tussle for the pecking order, but they're both in the same boat so a bit of sisterly camaraderie develops as they view, from a distance, first their weddings and then their funerals. But consternation sets in when mystery missives from an unseen presence begin to arrive. Deliciously performed by Clodagh O'Donoghue and Pauline Shanahan (the author), who capture all those little bridal nuances.

Marina Carr: Marble

Abbey Theatre, til 14 March

Marina Carr's plays to date have been firmly rooted in the treacherous bogs and dark rivers of her native midlands, but in Marble she cuts loose from her past, and any real sense of place, to create a knowing, witty and at times quite powerful meditation on, essentially, the meaning of life (or lack thereof) that could well have been written by one of those clever British playwrights - apart, that is, from the savagery of some of the language, and the odd quirkiness of some of the accents.

In spite of the wry humour, there is a shadow of doom from the start, like echoes of a Greek tragedy, as Art announces to his best friend Ben that he has been having erotic dreams about Ben's wife - and she, it turns out, is having parallel dreams about him. Dangerous territory, and although theirs is only a virtual relationship, the turmoil of this dream world seeps into a destructive reality, as Catherine becomes more and more obsessed by her other life, passionate and fulfilled, in unknown marble rooms.

Not as absorbing as some of Carr's other work, but a fine piece of theatre nonetheless, with a strong cast and an interesting set, its curved wall reminiscent (under certain lighting) of an Escher print, heading towards infinity.