Helix theatre
Forget the grim darkness at the heart of Dancing at Lughnasa. When Friel’s play was first produced at the Abbey in 1990, Ireland was on the cusp of transformation, from a modern into a globalised economy, and Joe Vanek’s epic set – an endless field of corn and poppies – helped Dancing at Lughnasa become one of Ireland’s key cultural exports at this crucial time. Vanek’s juxtaposition of an idyllic countryside with the break-up of the Mundy’s family home set the tenor for productions of the play for last 20 years, which often tend towards nostalgia, nowhere more so than in Pat O’Connor’s 1998 film version.
Maree Kearn’s set for Second Age’s new production bucks this trend. The exterior space is all scorched briars and windswept brambles. It encroaches upon the efficient and ordered domestic space that the Mundy sisters struggle to preserve as the hot summer of 1936 settles into the dying autumn. As the adult Michael (Charlie Bonner) places the memory frame upon the action in the opening moments, the “widening breach between what seemed to be and what was” is indisputable.
David Horan’s sensitive production navigates the uncanny unease within the Mundy household. There are some odd interventions: the iconic dance scene is reinterpreted to bring the women’s repressed sexuality into more concrete – perhaps too concrete – form. And there are a few moments of dissonance where the production’s tone is unsettled by slapstick set-pieces (Father Jack’s ritual dance as performed by Garret Keogh, for one).
However, for the most part, the skill with which the cast embody the metaphorical subtext that makes Friel’s play so rich is elicited with impressive subtlety and the key tension between the family’s fleeting moments of happiness and impending ruin is upheld. It is etched across the harrowed brow of Donna Dent’s Kate. It is weighted in the stooped posture of Rosie, despite the proud tilt of her chin. It underlies the exaggerated optimism and occasional forced laughter of Susannah de Wrixon’s Aggie. For all the competing forces of persuasive beauty – in Friel’s language, in the characters’ resilient love for each other – the ensemble never lets us forget that Dancing at Lughnasa is also a starkly sad play.
Until November 19, then tours Cork, Wexford, Limerick and Galway.
