In terms of play, performance and production, here is the most significant by far of the presentations to date in the current 70th birthday festival of Brian Friel's works on this island. The author's most overtly "Chekhovian" drama, it demonstrates under Ben Barnes's immensely empathetic direction that, while the themes of decline and decay may seem to have something in common with the works of Chekhov, the characters and the situations are as inherently Irish as the language used.
Fantasy and reality are seamlessly interwoven in this study of the O'Donnell family, brought up in and damaged by the generational subsidence evident in Ballybeg Hall, Friel's manifestation of the Catholic "big house".
Mr Barnes's pacing and his spacing of characters upon the stage provide a focused theatricality which keeps underlining precisely the relationships between the members of the O'Donnell family themselves and between them and the local community and other outsiders, from the ever-helpful Willie Diver (a local factotum) to the ever-inquiring Tom Hoffnung (the social historian visiting from Chicago). Casimir, the primary fantasist, is back from Germany. Alcoholic Alice is back from London with her husband Eamon.
They have returned to the big house for their sister Claire's marriage to Gerry McLaughlin, a local worthy much older than she. Judith, the primary realist, has been at home with Claire minding their stroke-damaged father and what little is left of the old estate.
The acting is of a superlatively high standard with individual characterisations each original and compelling and the ensemble playing is exquisitely fine and at its best in the silences of listening and reacting to what is being said. Mark Lambert's Casimir, frantic to say what he believes others want to hear, is quite outstanding, apologising without thinking even to the steps over which he trips in his haste to get to the telephone to talk to his wife Helga in Hamburg. Donna Dent's Alice is soulfully sad, Alison McKenna's Claire is pertly and unrealistically optimistic, Catherine Byrne's Judith dourly yet uncomplainingly realistic. If William Roberts's Hoffnung, Joe Gallagher's Willie Diver and Frank McCusker's Eamon are outside the family loop, that is exactly where the author has placed them, and Eamon Kelly's almost mute Uncle George has placed himself outside for reasons best known to himself. All are superb.
Christopher Oram's setting is appropriately browned by decay and scorched by Rupert Murray's ironically bright summer sunlight, and Joan Bergin's costumes are exactly right. This is a rare sample of all the theatrical arts in perfect concert and not to be missed.
