From Killyclogher, to Derry, to Ballybeg
Brian Friel knew he was in debt to Donegal, the setting for his finest works, and a place he loved – though never uncritically
What happens when you send an amateur theatrical collective into space for several hundred thousand years? Not a lot, apparently
The riddle in Wayne Jordan’s limpid new version of the Greek tragedy is how anyone stays blind to the truth
The music might be a bit too hip for the hive of children, but their parents might appreciate it
Less a depiction of a break up than a scene of mutually assured destruction, why does Pascal Rambert’s play feel so bloodless?
Recent history and ancient myth conspire to give a blow-by-blow account of the humbling of a nation
Through chance operations and onstage manipulation, Dick Walsh’s new play for Pan Pan makes random sense of the world
Friel established himself as an heir to the silences of Beckett and father to the tradition of monologue drama
Those of us privileged to know and love the great playwright will cherish his friendship
Edited excerpts from Friel’s regular newspaper column from the late 1950s and early 1960s
From Philadelphia Here I Come! to The Home Place, Peter Crawley selects Friel’s finest
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