Reviews

Irish Times writers review Winter Came Down at the Ramor Theatre, Virginia, Gagarin at the Old Museum Arts Centre in Belfast and David Kitt at Vicar St in Dublin.

Winter Came Down

Ramor Theatre, Virginia

Review by Gerry Colgan

Knowing this new play by Michael McCudden had been funded by an EU peace programme, I brought to its opening night some preconceptions I was soon forced to shed. Instead of a direct engagement with political issues and their repercussions, here was a work that homed in on the private lives and relationships of individuals in a small border town.

Michelle, a young woman disowned by her father when she became pregnant, has had a child who died through accident and a partner who drinks and beats her, and she has been forced to another town by a lay cleric who tried to have sex with her. An old man, Robert, alone after his son has moved to Scotland, is beaten up by local yahoos and now lives in frightened isolation. A middle-aged woman borrows money and is cruelly exploited by the predatory lender. The lay preacher is clearly sick in his head.

The play moves forward through short, effective scenes that form a picture of desolation, a vista in which hope exists only as a distant, flickering light. There is a sense that this was not the play's intention, but it is nonetheless the cumulative effect of its snapshots of lives on the edge.

The actors - Sinead Douglas, Brendan Laird, Deirdre Monaghan, Karl O'Neill and Padraic McIntyre - are uniformly effective, clearly motivated to inhabit their roles completely. Liam Halligan's sensitive direction ensures that the play's values are fully realised. The downside is that this excellence highlights the flaws in the work, the concentration within a small group of such oppressions, crimes and despair. It is unbalanced, leaving the question of what impact it hoped to make on its audiences largely unanswered.

This is, however, a typically absorbing production by the innovative Quare Hawks company, asking questions and taking chances. Their audiences should do no less.

At Hawkswell Theatre, Sligo, tomorrow

Gagarin Way

Old Museum Arts Centre, Belfast

Review by Jane Coyle

Turning points in history are, by definition, momentous events in themselves: the collapse of communism, September 11th. But their repercussions can be almost impossible to stomach for those committed to the certainties of the old order.

So it is with Eddie (Brian McCardie) and Gary (John Kay Steel), two self-taught, widely read, underpaid and socially marginalised factory workers in the Scottish town of Fife. It is a forgotten place, its coal and heavy industry replaced by microchip factories, its future determined by the exigencies of the globalist economy.

In Gregory Burke's audacious first play, Eddie and Gary wax lyrical about the Spanish Civil War and the 1926 General Strike with one part of their brains; with the other they are executing a crazy, cathartic political gesture, a heist, involving a visiting member of top management (Finlay Welsh) and a wet-behind-the-ears security guard (Jack Tarlton).

Prime Cut director Jackie Doyle does not flinch from the hard-edged detail of this coruscating play, performed with veracity and passion in the claustrophobia of Stuart Marshall's cramped storeroom set. Until the last few minutes one is lulled by laughter into believing that Burke set out to debunk -isms - communism, socialism, globalism, capitalism, idealism - whether through surreal humour or intellectual rigour. But then we recall a passing line about how the International Brigade turned on each other when the going got tough - and suddenly the whole thing implodes. Political theatre or theatre of politics? It doesn't much matter when such a refreshingly inquiring and entertaining voice can be heard examining, exposing and entertaining.

Until Saturday; then tours to Coleraine, Lisburn, Armagh, Derry and Dublin Fringe

David Kitt

Vicar Street, Dublin

Review by Laurence Mackin

Every so often Ireland becomes obsessed with an artist or band, and soon a legion of fans will hear no criticism about their idol. Some acts build on this and go on to greater things, but many become comfortable in the honey trap of the Irish music scene, content to sell out venues around the country at the expense of international recognition.

Kitt has certainly developed the domestic fan base. His every move and syllable elicited shrieks from an enraptured crowd. Jesus never had it so good.

Playing in David Kitt's band is nice work if you can get it. The band play on only about half the set, which includes frequent and protracted breaks between songs and even an intermission. That said, when they are on stage the band work hard. Kitt's sound is much more polished than in his last few performances. The band are slick and composed and can make a good bit of noise.

But Kitt's vocal is not living up to their promise. With very little range, his muted tones gave a subtle charm to the home- grown atmosphere of his first album, Small Moments, and its follow-up, The Big Romance. But, live, that charm is wearing thin. Kitt doesn't stray from the fence with his middle-ground lyrics; were he to attack them with the same attitude he gives to his guitar playing they would be special indeed.

Kitt's first albums held some promise, and with the release of his third, Square 1, now is the time for him to capitalise on his work and go for it on the international stage. As his father has often said, although certainly not of David: "A lot done, more to do."