Desolate Heaven

This play about young carers in the Ireland of 1978 demands a psychological engagement

Irene Kelleher, Mary McEvoy and Áine Ryan in Desolate Heaven. Photograph: Darragh Kane
Irene Kelleher, Mary McEvoy and Áine Ryan in Desolate Heaven. Photograph: Darragh Kane

Desolate Heaven
Everyman, Cork
***

Production values are a substitute for thematic tension in this new play by Ailis Ní Riain, which is a Granary Theatre and Everyman co-presentation.

The lighting by Aoife Cahill, the music and sound by Rob Moloney and the spare, ominous set by Steve Neale give a heft to Desolate Heaven that rescues the piece by darkening and deepening its theme.

The plot raises the troubling issue of young carers in the Ireland of 1978, and revolves around two girls trapped by incapacitated parents and meeting up on a charitably arranged recreational outing. Fifteen-year-old Orlaith looks after a deranged father, Sive minds a paralysed mother, both appreciate the irony of their day-long break and both unite in an impulsive plan of escape.

With no intermission, the work demands a psychological engagement as the girls develop according to the demands of their journey. Their already volatile relationship is affected by their meetings with three women, who expand their sense of opportunity while soothing them with a fairy tale.

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This same fairy tale is continued with each encounter and told by Mary McEvoy with a relish suggesting a mystical relevance to the runaway pair.

Her character also identifies the conflict of desire and attainment encapsulated in the teenagers, whose longing for escape and self-realisation is at odds with their yearning for home fires and a happy ending. Ní Riain, who is also a composer and playwright, is well-served in this Irish premiere by honest if high-pitched performances.

As the girls are gradually imprisoned anew by their own personalities, Irene Kelleher as the dominant Orlaith and Áine Ryan as the submissive Sive are convincing in roles that demand a lot of conviction. Director Tony McCleane-Fay, meanwhile, puts his faith in a slow accumulation of detail and atmosphere. Until Saturday

Mary Leland

Mary Leland is a contributor to The Irish Times specialising in culture