Listening to Paul Howard flapping his lips while I, literally, had my mince pies on Sorcha checking me out, the whole time.  Or at least I would have if I was Ross O’Carroll Kelly.  Paul Howard and members of the cast (Rory Nolan, Sarah Greene, Gary Cooke) of Between Foxrock and a Hard Place were in town promoting the play, which is set to take the Cork Opera House by storm on 28th of March; produced by Landmark Productions.  This is the second instalment of RO’CK plays, and is going to be quite different to its predecessor, The Last Days of the Celtic Tiger.

I had the privilege of sitting down and talking with the gang.  For people unfamiliar with Ross, he is a suburban, wealthy middle-class rugger bugger, who has bedded almost every woman in Dublin under the age of 40, and a few over.  He also claims he has one up on Brian O’Driscoll, because Brian never won a Senior Cup medal in school.

Ross was created by Paul Howard when Ireland was in the boom period of the Celtic Tiger.  Now, of course, things are quite different, and the theme in Between Foxrock and a Hard Place reflects this.  The audience will see the O’Carroll Kelly family falling apart in the midst of an economic breakdown.  According to Paul, the first play was experimental, in that it was his vision of a sitcom on stage.

However, the new play will have a more orthodox structure, with two acts and four scenes; all of which are set in the O’Carroll Kelly Drawing room, with all of the main characters present.  This was always a wish of Paul’s: to have each of the main characters together in one room, and experience the tension, which has been building for years, finally explode.

When asked why he decided to transform Ross into a stage production, Paul said he “balked at the idea originally”.  But when Anne Clarke from Landmark Productions introduced him to Jimmy Faye, who was to be the director, he began to come around to the idea.  Furthermore, he met Rory Nolan (Ross), who belted out a few Ross classics.

At this point Paul had really become relaxed with the idea, mainly because he never envisaged he would ever see Ross in real life, and yet, here he was standing in front of him in Rory; who Paul claims is “full of himself”, just like his character.  So the stage was set and Ross and the gang came to life in The Last Days of the Celtic Tiger.

The story of how Ross came to exist is well known.  Paul, while covering the Leinster schools rugby, overheard a boy saying to his dad: “I don’t give a fock how you think I played- just crack open the wallet”.  But, what isn’t so well known is that Paul thinks Ross is actually a mild mannered version of these schoolboys.

One particular story Paul mentioned concerned a friend of his who was riding the DART (or the Dorsh).  On this particular journey, the train was absolutely packed, but the end carriage seemed a little emptier, with Castlerock schoolboys within.  Whenever someone tried to enter, a “bouncer” at the door stated: “Sorry- this is a rock carriage”.  This shows the typical over confidence which was given to the kittens of the Celtic Tiger.

Although these characters are whom Paul satirises, he believes that they are also Ross’ biggest fans.  When asked if he thought he had created a monster, Paul chortled: “I hope not! I like to think I’m the reflector, not the director”.

As Rory Nolan sat down next to me, in all the Ross O’Carroll Kelly clobber (Leinster shirt included unfortunately), I found it difficult to keep a straight face.  Having read all the books, it is safe to say that Rory is perfect for the part of Ross.  Strong jawed and quick witted, it is difficult to imagine another actor portraying the part.  Rory began acting at an early age.

However, after a pause during his teens, it was when he attended UCD his acting truly became a passion.  It was here he joined the university Drama Society, which gave him a sample of all aspects of theatre, including: acting, camera work, lighting, and producing.  Rory suggests for anyone interested in acting to get involved with their college Dramat Society.  After UCD, Rory became a professional subsequent to graduating from the Gaiety School of Acting.

Not only does Rory have ample acting experience, his life experience is quite suited to playing Ross also.  Playing wing-forward for his school in his teens, he, on many occasions, got trampled on by D4 Ross-a-likes.  Of course he had to get in a punch about Leinster having the upper hand on Munster of late; but, the mention of two Heineken Cups soon quietened his cough.  One of Rory’s favourite Ross moments is when Ross is walking past a security guard who is picking his nose, and Ross says to him: “hey, did you pick a winner”.

Sorcha, who is, arguably, the love of Ross’s life, is described in the books as: petite, and beautiful, with curly blonde hair (and usually wearing Issey Miyake).  Sarah Greene, donning a curly blonde wig fits the part perfectly (although I’m not sure whether she was wearing Issey Miyake or not).

Being from Cork, Sarah lacks a natural D4 accent, but assures she is well accustomed to performing Dublin accents.  This is Sarah’s first time joining the cast in a Ross play.  She is replacing Lisa Lambe who previously played Sorcha.  Like Rory, Sarah began her acting career at a young age.  She performed in pantomimes, and joined the CADA Performing Arts Academy.  This was when she decided acting was to be her life.  Since graduating from the Gaiety School of Acting she has been working professionally.

Even though the stage is Sarah’s true passion, she has had some success on camera also.  The Guard is an Irish movie by the same creators of In Bruges, which premiered at the Sundance Film Festival.  Sony were extremely impressed with it and bought the rights to it.  It is set to release in Ireland over the coming summer.

Sarah says that although she would never turn down acting for the camera, there is much greater rewards to be gained from stage performance.  When asked if she preferred acting in dramas or comedies, Sarah said it is “too tough to decide”.  Acting in a comedy will always provide a buzz, but acting in a drama can create very powerful emotions which can be felt between actors and the audience.  On some occasions Sarah has been approached by audience members who could relate directly to her character.  These emotions, she says, cannot be felt while performing to a camera.

Gary Cooke (I, Keano, Après Match) was the last, but not least, to join me.  Gary started acting while at university.  His debut performance was in Footloose, and he became professional in 1988.  Even though Gary has appeared in many stage performances, his performing preference is on camera.  He claims that the camera lacks the nervous energy of the stage, which suits his personality better.

Gary’s character in Between Foxrock and a Hard Place is a gunman who attempts a tiger kidnapping on the O’ Carroll Kelly family.  Gary states his character is “a guy with post traumatic stress, and doing this brings it all back to him from the Lebanon”.  After this spell of acting, Gary is hoping to concentrate on his own stand-up comedy material, and return to Après Match later in the year or next year.

Unfortunately for the cast, on Patrick’s Day they will all be rehearsing, so celebrations will be kept to a minimum.  In true Ross O’ Carroll Kelly style, Rory added that he will give his four month old its first taste of Guinness.

If you are a Ross O’Carroll Kelly fan, and have read the books, then check out the Cork Opera House between 28th March and 2nd April, to see Between Foxrock and a Hard Place.  Even if you have never heard of Ross, it is guaranteed to be a good night out.  Paul Howard’s satirical view of a generation the Celtic Tiger created is not to be missed.  So get your ‘rents to crack open their wallets, tell the old dear to iron the chinos, dust off the dubes, slam a few vitamin h, high five Oisinn, and hit the Cork Opera House.

Samuel Beckett is often described in hallowed tones to Irish theatre students, and as such, I brought a veritable suitcase of expectations along with me to see BX3 – Three Short Plays by Samuel Beckett in the Everyman Palace Theatre. Brought to Cork from London by the Godot Company, the short plays Rough For Theatre, Play and Not I were my first introduction to Beckett on the stage and gloriously different from any piece of theatre I had ever seen before.

Reviewing Beckett is a tricky business. I don’t hesitate to say that the acting was flawless, the staging appropriately Beckettian, the lighting crucially timed. Beckett’s meticulous scripts leave little room for directorial discretion. But in attempting to explain Beckett’s plays, you run the risk of ruining their essence. The emptiness at the heart of Beckett’s theatre purports that life itself is devoid of meaning. Thus to try to extract meaning from theatre that itself attempts to discard any potential for meaning in the world can be said to be missing the point. But what is the point? If I figure that out, I’ll let you know.

The first play, Rough For Theatre was the most traditional theatrical of the three pieces. A blind beggar sits on a bare stage attempting to play the fiddle. He is joined by a man in a wheelchair and the men begin a sort of conversation, in which neither is really listening properly to the other. They debate their monotonous, pitiable lives and cannot agree on who is the most unhappy.

Finally they discuss the possibility of teaming up, with the blind man pushing the man in the wheelchair around while in return, he describes what he sees for the blind man. However, they cannot agree to cooperate. The play ends in a freeze frame, with the blind beggar holding the crippled man’s stick over his head. Rough For Theatre provided the audience with an introduction to Beckett’s bleak sense of humour. The two men are so self-pitying and pathetic that their plight becomes absolutely hilarious.

In Play, Beckett places a man, his wife and his mistress in a row of three urns and lets the drama of their situation drive the rapid dialogue, with each character fighting to be heard. These characters’ intertwined lives could have been the subject of a lengthy play with breathy pauses and emotional confrontations, but Play renders them empty and hysterical. I found Play to be the funniest and most enjoyable of the three pieces, with lines like “the smell of bitch” provoking roars of laughter.

At the heart of Beckett’s writing is its ability to take the seemingly important and render it utterly inconsequential, often in a humorous way. This is demonstrated in Play – after one of the women rants at length about green tea, the man says “Personally I always preferred Lipton’s” just before the light on his face is extinguished. His mistress laughs manically and says “Am I not perhaps a little unhinged already?”

Finally, Not I is the story of a life containing “no love of any kind at any subsequent stage” told entirely through a pair of lips illuminated on a dark stage, speaking rapidly and unrelentingly. The presence of the shrouded and barely lit figure of the Auditor on stage, sporadically raising and lowering its arms as the lips were talking, confused me during the performance. It only gradually became clear that this figure was trying to listen to the lips, as I was too intent on listening to the outburst from the lips myself to grasp this point quickly.

The lips speak in unbroken monologue about the woman’s life but deny that the events she describes actually happened to her even though they definitely did and the passage of time is denoted by repeated phrases that continually interrupt the flow –what? and listening to the lips talk is similar to the effect of reading this very long sentence without stopping.

The woman speaks about “the buzzing” of background thoughts she hears all the time in her head and “the sudden urge to tell” her story to the world, experiences identifiable to the audience but presented in an unfamiliar and jarring way.

It’s clear from these plays that Samuel Beckett succeeded in changing the way in which theatre interpreted the world. While theatre classically compresses a long time period into a shorter playing length, time is insufficiently filled in Beckett’s plays, ever-present as a hollow void that no amount of the characters’ chatter or plans or human relationships can fill.

Beckett also sought to challenge the classic definition of the art of theatre, by stripping away elements previously sought to be essential. The plays had no sets, no movement around the stage in the case of Play, and Not I even eliminated the need for a face to deliver the piece’s lines.  If you’ve never seen a piece of Beckett theatre, go and see one. Reviewing a Beckett play is like trying to review a personal memory or experience, as everyone who sees his plays will react differently. I could have written this review in four words – Go and see Beckett.

The works of Oscar Wilde have established themselves firmly within the ranks of great literature. The recent coming of one of his best-loved pieces of comic theatre, Lady Windermere’s Fan, to Cork’s Everyman Palace saw crowds of great variety flock to witness a spectacle of his classic work. Brought by the Everyman Theatre Company under the direction of Michael Twomey, the production hoped to establish the grandeur of set, humour of script and elegance of character associated with Wilde’s work.

A comedy of four acts, it was clear on opening night that the energy and comfort in performance was to pick up in the later of these. The production opens with a scene between Lady Windermere and her admirer Lord Darlington, in which their lustful relationship quickly becomes apparent. The set is of impressive grandeur as are the costumes, immediately setting the play in upper class Victorian society.

The timid and fragility of Lady Windermere is brought to us by Rose Donovan with an uncanny Brigit Jones accent. I couldn’t help but love it, however it did hinder my ability to take her seriously as this upper-class, and perfect-embodiment-of-what-a-woman-should-be character. Donovan did encapsulate the meekness of Windermere’s character, however as stronger characters appeared on stage; her presence became lost and overshadowed.

Ronnie O’Shaughnessy stole the first half with her hilarious portrayal of the Duchess of Berwicke. Providing a flawless example of societies gossiping side, there is no secret to be made about O’Shaughnessy’s riveting performance. In a script where much comedy went over my head, I found myself willing the Duchess to return to each scene with one of her sniping and softly bitchy lines.

Post interval turned the focus greatly onto Lady Windermere and Mrs Erlynne, her biological mother. Despite Lord Windermere (Ian McGuirk) knowing this fact, he refused to divulge it with Lady Windermere, henceforth bringing about an air of great suspicion about his character. In a ‘movie moment’ as we are exposed to the truth, we question why he could not have told Lady Windermere and avoided the arguments and accusations of an affair bestowed on him. I guess he needed to take the unintelligent route in order to create the consequential storyline.

Act III supplied us with a gentlemen’s scene, in which we saw a group of society’s dignitaries talking about women, drinking whiskey and nodding off to sleep. The stereotypical scene was a highlight as all involved played their parts brilliantly and to utterly convincing effect.

Bringing the show to its climax, Act IV brought about sterling performance from Donovan, McGuirk, Vanessa Hyde (Mrs Erlynne) and the side-splittingly funny David Coon (Lord Augustus ‘Tuppy’ Lorton). Moments of heightened tension, revelations and comic peaks wrapped up the play in a spectacular way.

With few flaws, the worst being the lack of stage hands and cast involvement in scene changes and the moving of various props, the play was a great success. The production went from strength to strength as the plot progressed and credit must be given to all involved. The Everyman Theatre Company has once again reiterated the fact that they are ones to be watched.

UCC Dramat Short Play Festival January 2011

Meet Me in the Stars

Featuring the Express’ very own John Barker in his writing and directorial debut. Meet Me in the Stars tracks childhood sweethearts who marry and live together until the protagonist’s wife falls ill with cancer and dies. The husband spirals into self-pity and tragic depression.

The wife rises and talks to him from beyond the grave (played beautifully by Michelle Fox), divulging that she found it as difficult to watch his misery as it was for her to die. Played by three different couples, the exposition of the relationship is heartfelt, gripping and moving.

The actors have a variety of accents and mannerisms yet the characterisation is strong due to the constant momentum and magnificent stage blocking and set. Despite a clichéd and somewhat predictable plot, Meet Me in the Stars’ honest dialogue, perfect light relief and dramatic tension renders it a credit to Dramat. It is a deeply moving amongst the subsequent comedic pieces.

Bats, Hair, Dishwasher

Rory McConville’s Bats, Hair, Dishwasher is a mind-blowingly sophisticated and surreal debut. With a cerebral, heart-warming plot, the play manages to be as bizarre as it is engaging.

Max, stuck eternally on a plinth and jovially suicidal, meets incongruously American Gwen and her Irish little sister Lassie. Lassie is desperate to purchase the name ‘Charlotte’ and is thwarted by her mischievous sister.

The play is delightfully constructed with casual surreal outbursts. Max’s eccentric costume and neurotic mannerisms, Lassie’s adorable innocence and Gwen’s temper make this play enthralling, effortless and a complete treat.

Pitch

Pitch is everything you could want in a short play – a fantasy plot, lovable characters piss-take mafia accents and breakneck pace. Writer Enda Kenneally’s extensive familiarity with theatre and film is clear in this comical tale about a writer’s frustration at his screenwriter’s hilarious ignorance.

The mechanics of the characters’ pseudo reality are fascinating, and the dialogue is bang on. One has to empathise with the poor, frustrated writer Alex (Eoin Murray), at the mercy of his screenwriter brought to life by Eugene Manley’s expert comic timing. Universal themes of misunderstanding and disillusion are illustrated by Kenneally’s refreshing plot, Cian Irwin’s flawless direction and some indulgent over-acting by the mafia squad.

The Greatest of These Muggers

We all know them, and we hate to hate them. We use headphones, excuses and downright rudeness to avoid them: charity muggers. A triumph of writing and especially of production, The Greatest of These Muggers provides us with Brendan – a would-be ‘chugger’ trying to make a few bob, the loveably clueless ‘Mugsy Boy’ McManus and his mocking sergeant Walsh.

The plot takes a bizarre tangential diversion into a world of bank heist, dames and buskers. Roaring comedy, fantastic contrast and a local feel give this play all the communal accessibility of a panto but with a clever plot and sophisticated character development. This really is a play to write home about.

To most of us The Phantom of the Opera is synonymous with Andrew Lloyd Webber’s 1976 theatrical masterpiece in London’s West End.  The novel Le Fantome de l’Opera by obscure French author Gaston Leroux serves as its inspiration. Recently on a trip across the Irish Sea, I was afforded the opportunity to experience for myself this famed piece of musical entertainment. My two hours in Her Majesty’s Theatre were quite captivating, in all kinds of ways. I was to return home with a poignant memory of this tour-de-force in spectacle.

I’ll admit straight from the off that I was quite impressed by the lead performances. For anybody who remains unaware of this story, it is one chronicling a particularly tumultuous episode in the Paris Opera house. There exists a famed phantom, residing in an underground lake beneath the Opera, born with a deformed face yet possessing an incredible genius for musical creation. He falls in love with Christine, a talented chorus girl, who in turn has fallen for the Opera’s patron, Raoul. That is the basic pretext for the story that unravels. Now where was I?. . .ahhh yes, the acting. Acting, as the interpretation of how to play a particular role, is an integral part of any theatrical production.

David Shannon was exquisite in his role as the phantom. His quiet self-assurance on stage produced a blunder-less performance. At constant intervals during the production, he made direct connections with the audience. Through subtle oral intonation and body movement, he somehow managed to communicate to us the dire predicament of this phantom. The phantom is renowned as a terribly elusive character, but Shannon allowed me to make sense of this man and his lush romantic agony. He has an extraordinary ability to evoke compassion in the theatregoers, especially during the many duets with his co-protagonist Christine. These in particular were the high points of acting in the play.

Gina Beck as Christine possesses a beautifully delicate singing voice, capable time and again of entrancing the audience in a blissful lull. I found myself frozen still, eyes wide open, silently captivated by the power of the musical notes that she sang. There was a tender chemistry between these two actors. I sensed it. My companion sensed it. And I must say, I was taken in by it. When both actors sang together, with their all-encompassing voices, at times fairy-like, at times demon-like, a unique connection was forged between them and the audience. They elicit such pathos as to equal a Shakespearean tragedy. It became clear that they had taken up their respective roles and surpassed them, adding their own mark, and in the process devastating me with a rainbow of anguish, joy, lamentation and despair.

As we all know, nothing beats the theatre for sheer exuberance in terms of set design, props, costumes and lighting. Phantom of the Opera epitomizes this sense of spectacle. In both acts, everywhere I looked seemed to serve as a plentiful source of such grandeur. For example, there was one particular chandelier used throughout the production. It glittered effusively, shining bedazzling reflections in each of our eyes. This sort of attention to detail is what makes Phantom so immense in scale. It is not just the story, nor the acting, nor even the singing that are memorable, but also the very stage set-up itself. Some of the set-pieces used were brilliant, the candlelit intimacy of the Phantom’s subterranean world being one of these. For some intangible reason, the way in which the whole set was assembled possessed an intense allure for me. In terms of costume design, the Phantom’s mask, shielding his deformed face, is utterly haunting. It has an iconic status in the theatre-world, and this only attests to the weight of set and costume design on the production as a whole.

All in all, the driving force behind this musical was the orchestra. The fact that it was situated in plain view beneath the stage added something extra to the whole production, a sense of raw authenticity that is difficult to recreate outside the theatre setting. The actors sang in perpetual harmony with these music players. Certain songs, such as All I ask of you, were incredible, tear-inducing even to the hardest of hearts. This kind of musical delight and audience-seduction resides at the pinnacle of the Phantom experience. The audience members remained forever appreciative, aware of their fortune to experience such lofty heights as the human voice can offer. There was rigorous applause after every song. The perfect acoustics of the theatre managed to deliver this music to the centre of my heart, just as how the aching pathos of the Phantom’s story pierces my innermost being to this day. Precision like this is destined to be adored.

Tracy Nyhan rediscovers the rustic charm of Irish colloquial humour with the Cha and Miah Laughing Show.

I arrived at the Everyman Theatre in high spirits, despite the half-hour walk to get there in the depressing downpour outside. Being honest, I had never heard of the “Cha and Miah Laughing Show” but I presumed it would be something humorous and light-hearted and for that reason, I was eager to be part of the big joke.

The theatre filled quickly and soon my esteemed ginger companion and I were once again the youngest spectators in the room. This didn’t necessarily put us off the show however, because dotted around the room were a few couples less than twice our age. Phew. We could now relax, sit back and enjoy the show without feeling entirely out of place.

Before the lights began to shine onstage and before the narrator (Jim Queally, who you may recognise from Killinaskully) introduced the main characters to us, I managed to make a new friend. The 70-something year old man began to make small talk with me, asking me how hot I was, a question which I initially misinterpreted what he was referring to, but replied awkwardly after a short delay; “eh…I’m fine, thanks”, and let him off in his own world to comment about the room temperature. This man made my particular theatrical experience all the more hilarious throughout the night.

The narrator introduced us to Cha and Miah (Michael Twomey and Frank Duggan), two elderly men with a gargantuan sense of humour. From the very beginning, they had the entire audience splitting their sides with laughter, earning them random rounds of applause for their witty jokes and perfected comical timing. They began poking fun at each other’s stupidity and just everything, in general.

Their accents and typical old Irish phrases brought me back in time to when I was younger, listening to my grand-parents converse with others their own age. The brutal honesty and blunt humour of the two elderly men on stage was comical and I was pleasantly surprised to discover that both my ginger friend and I, despite our tender ages, understood the meaning of the vast majority of the jokes. I was quite proud of the way we settled in, acclimatised with the older members of the audience and didn’t alienate ourselves by keeping our sense of humour dormant for the night!

To give our stomach muscles a small rest form all our haha-ing, a middle-aged woman (Lorraine Manley), entertained us with songs I had no clue about. I didn’t recognise most of the songs she sung and I didn’t know the words so I sat shaking uncontrollably with laughter, along with the ginger, as the rest of the audience (including my old male friend) belted out the choruses with the singer. Granted, she was no Beyonce, but she was a pretty good and the people surrounding me seemed to adore the entertainment. I was particularly amused by the way my old male friend introduced, shall we say…interesting harmonies and new words to each of the songs sung.

But the highlights of the night were not my brief, entertaining conversations with the old man, nor were they the songs or the narrator’s short input here and there. The highlights for me were the scenes with Cha and Miah, chatting comfortably with each other. It almost felt as if the scenes were completely unscripted as the natural flow and comfort of the conversations was most impressive. At times during the production I almost forgot I was in a theatre, viewing a play, rather than directly involved in their conversation.

Their topics were hot and most relevant, the most obvious being the recession and Ireland’s own struggle, as well as politics. They avoided creating a gloomy, despairing atmosphere by cracking jokes about politicians, not just in Ireland but around the world, making reference to “Baracky Obamy” and “David Cameroon”. They also put forward a few suggestions of their own in the hope of mending Ireland’s economic woes; abolish the political system altogether! Don’t put yourselves forward with that idea during the elections for a while I’d say, lads!

They managed to keep the younger members of the audience involved with references to the music of “Laaaady GaaaaGaaaa” and the wild nightlife of Limerick City. They kept us wondering what exactly they meant with statements such as, “I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that I might inseminate myself”, in response to a question of a completely different context. They portrayed their priceless wisdom and enlightenment that only comes with maturity and life experience, when they gave advice for different aspects of life, such as; “marriage is like a pack of cards…you start off with two hearts and a diamond and at the end all you need is a club and a spade!”

Overall, it was a brilliant production: a humorous, entertaining and thoroughly enjoyable play, making some serious universal problems the object of fun, just for the night. I’d recommend it to anyone of any age; you could easily experience the raw humour of the play with three generations of family. The only thing is: you’d want to be a native of Ireland or at least an expert of Irish slang to have any clue of what’s going on! Well worth seeing!

Fortinbras Gets Drunk was the first of Dramat’s shows this year and was therefore under a certain amount of pressure as it introduced people to the society’s work and talent. I attended the performance on opening night, Tuesday the 9th of November.

Upon entering the space to take my seat I was immediately impressed by the elaborate set. I was interested to see the Granary’s seats formed in an ‘L’; this was something new for me and it really took me out of the space I’m used to seeing every day as a Drama student. I was well and truly landed in the world of the play.

As I waited for director Janusz Flakus’s performance to begin there was plenty to see; graffiti littered one wall of the set, a large closed marquee was before me and there was even a toilet onstage which had me immediately intrigued. This set would go on to complement the bizarre and almost random nature of the play ahead.

Aaron O’Sullivan and Sam Marks then opened the performance. Aaron as the ghost of King Hamlet was a joy; his physicality and comic timing were superb and had the audience laughing immediately. I was delighted to see him return as Polonius among others throughout the play and he really proved he was meant for the stage.

Sam Marks had a very brief moment as a Jewish Hamlet and it was just hilarious to see. This humour was then picked up by the fantastic stage presence of Andrea Bolger. Andrea played the part of the cross-dressing Eight-Eyes and provided such an entertaining performance.

Her physicality, her ‘manly’ voice and her Mona Lisa disguise were all as absurd as they were charming and immediately informed the audience of the world of the play and the kinds of characters they could expect to meet. Andrea jumping from the squat Eight-Eyes to the sexy and scary Eight-Tits was the highlight of the show for me.

Props must also be given to Eoghan Griffin who literally took up the substantial role of one of two guards on the opening day of the show. I watched Eoghan’s performance with no hint of him taking this role on mere hours before; he slotted into the performance alongside George Cummins and together they proved to be quite the double-act.

The main part of Fortinbras was played by Naoise McSweeney and this is a character I think I would have usually found very hard to sympathise with but Naoise’s interpretation really made this drunken Prince really quite endearing. Also as the title of the play suggests, Fortinbras spends practically all of his stage time drunk. Often people trying to act drunk can just be painful to watch and quite gimmicky but Naoise managed to masterfully capture the complete lack of grace that completely pissed people have! Every face-plant onto the floor just looked so real and quite painful! It was a truly entertaining and impressive performance.

On the downside there were a number of shaky scene changes and quite a few technical errors. I would confidently put this down to opening night and I know the production suffered more than one unforeseen set-back over its rehearsal period.

All in all I had a very enjoyable night in the theatre. Admittedly I did find it hard to follow the plot sometimes but I quickly learned to just go with it and to enjoy myself. The technical errors and long scene changes didn’t take away from the overall production and I was delighted to see theatre being used for theatre. The production was different, charming and altogether very enjoyable.

Originally published in the 23/11/2010 edition of the UCC Express

I won’t lie; I am by no means an avid theatre goer. The last time I graced the auditorium of a theatre was for the mandatory secondary school trip to see the play that was inflicted on us for the Leaving Cert (back in the day), which quite literally put me to sleep! So I was sceptical as I approached the next step in my quest to broaden my cultural experiences. I was going to brave the theatre once more. Whether or not it would be a success I had no idea, but as the saying goes “nothing ventured, nothing gained”!

Along came the chance to go the Everyman Palace and savour in the delights of Pretending to be me. I did not know anything about the play before I went so I of course did the fool proof research. I Googled it! How we survived before the wonders of the internet I find even harder to comprehend as the days go by. As I read through the description of the play a nagging voice at the back of my head whispered that maybe I was choosing the wrong play to go to, given that it was for the monumental occasion of my reintroduction to the world of theatre.

What I read was not encouraging; one actor and the poems of Philip Larkin. Would this play also send me asleep also? But as I read on I became more encouraged. Not only is Larkin widely regarded as one of the great English poets of the latter half of the twentieth century but there was hope that Oscar nominee Tom Courtenay might be able to wow me into submission and keep my attention for the duration of the play. I truly hoped so.

The dread re-emerged again however as I waited in the lobby of the Everyman. The age gap between me and my unenthusiastic companion, and the rest of the theatre goers was at least forty years.  There was a well balanced mixture of English teachers and old age pensioners who outnumbered us greatly and their quizzical looks we attracted did not go unnoticed either.

The stage had minimal props. A hard wood chair, a table, a pot of tea and jug of milk were all that graced the stage. After the interval however the pot of tea and jug of milk were replaced by a bottle of whiskey and a glass tumbler!  It was clear that it was all about Courtenay’s delivery of Larkin’s most memorable poetry, letters and articles to produce a complete, compelling portrayal of a controversial poet. It was a splendid performance from Courtenay, justifying why he has achieved many accolades in the past. Such accolades include two Oscar nominations, nominations for five BAFTA Awards (winning two), and a Golden Globe nomination.

The way the works of Larkin were compiled together I found produced a most entertaining and thought provoking play. However, without the many well placed jokes, the seriousness of some of the issues dealt with would have been too overpowering for me. The issues had universal relevance leaving me laughing at the same jokes as the white haired seventy-something year old woman sitting beside me.

One thing that I did regret was not knowing the works of Philip Larkin better before I went to see the play. It definitely would have enhanced my experience and enjoyment of the play significantly. After seeing it though, I will be trawling through the library looking for books of poetry by him! The sound of American Jazz in the background at times was expertly decided on and added an extra dimension to the play. The constant jibes at fellow poet Ted Hughes provided great comic relief as any possible point in the play for one then there would be some derogatory remark about him.

My trip to the Everyman was undoubtedly a success. This success I put down to a mixture of two things, the powerful performance by Courtney and the engaging material of the play. I most definitely will be turning into an avid theatre goer if all the plays I attend are as enjoyable as Pretending to be me was.

I shall leave you with a quote from Philip Larkin himself “Life has a practice of living you, if you don’t live it.”

As a die-hard Die Hard fan I jumped at the chance to see Alan Rickman in John Gabriel Borkman at the Abbey. Upon laying eyes on the set a lady nearby knowingly muttered “ah, snow!” much in the way I knowingly mutter “ah, fat suit!” at the beginning of those hilarious Eddie Murphy-plays-everyone romps. At this point, the realisation dawned on me that I was in for an intense couple of hours of Ibsen – and not an evening of light entertainment.

As the drama unfolds it becomes apparent that many years ago respected banker Borkman was jailed for misusing clients’ funds and, since his release, has imprisoned himself (in a somewhat gothic manner) in the upstairs of his home. Unhappy? Yes. Regretful? No. Instead he blames an old friend for betraying him and waits in vain to be reinstated to his former eminent role in society. He is dislikeable, petulant, cruel and of course masterfully portrayed by Alan Rickman.

On the ground floor of this delightful “home sweet home” is Borkman’s wife Gunhild, played with great intensity and passion by Fiona Shaw in an exceptional performance. Obsessed with restoring the name of Borkman to its former glory, she smothers her son in the process. Her ice-queen sister Ella (the excellent Lindsay Duncan) has also been destroyed by Borkman’s ambition and arrives at the house with her own selfish agenda. All three are obsessed with making their own mark on the future and Erhart, the son, is clawed and fought over by all three with no thought for his own wishes.

The most humane character in the drama is Foldal, the humble clerk who is portrayed sensitively by John Kavanagh. He is the only person to regularly visit the isolated Borkman, yet he is treated with disdain, and Gunhild even sneers at his meagre financial loss. As a family the elder members are as cold-hearted as the snow which dominates the landscape of a beautiful set designed by Tom Pye. Unfortunately this lack of likeability also leaves the audience cold: making it impossible to care about the fate of the characters.

It would be impossible to watch Frank McGuinness’ new adaptation of Ibsen’s play about a disgraced banker without drawing comparisons to modern day, and indeed it is perfect timing for this production. Experiencing such high-calibre acting certainly made for a memorable and worthwhile evening; however, I’m in no rush to meet these characters again. If I need a fix of Rickman in a snowy setting I’ll just press play on Die Hard. After all, to paraphrase Hans Gruber, “Now I have it on DVD- ho ho ho.”

John Gabriel Borkman is playing in the Abbey Theatre until November 20^th.