THE writing of Mark O'Rowe and Jim Culleton's direction combine to make the whole of From Both Hips far greater than the parts. The first half of the play opens up like a Russian doll, where everything from seemingly inconsequential lines to crops and phone-calls - interlocking and overlapping - gradually slots into place.
It starts as comedy, centred on Liz (an insufferable sister-in-law, played with claustrophobic concern by Marion Dwyer). It seems to be a domestic farce about dogs being incapable of love, yeh? But any security about what kind of clay we're at is promptly undermined by tantalising half- disclosures of vulnerabilities: why is Adele (Clodagh O'Donoghue) so strung out? Why is Willy (Sean Rocks) reduced to incoherent hyper-ventilatilion? Why does the wounded Paul (Ger Carey) feel so wronged?
After the interval, there are no tricks: just confrontation. Carey gives an unswervingly focused and compelling realisation of raw anger. The story- line is gripping but it is Rowe's use of language which grips the attention. He juggles with the repetitions, hesitations and quirks of speech. He revels in olfactory references. At times, we're almost in Pinterland, but O'Rowe's voice is assuredly individual, as he deals with the nuances and absurdities of human interchanges. He is a playwright to watch.
