AS THE Dublin Theatre Festival gets into its stride this weekend, I see that the weather forecast is for very windy conditions in all venues.
This at least is the implication of the festival programme: which as well as giving brief introductions to each play, also employs one of those trendy unifying catchphrases so beloved of marketeers everywhere. Thus at the end of each summary we are told of the production: “It will blow you away because . . .” The Abbey’s Three Sisters, for example, will blow us away “because of the majesty of the acting [. . .] and the sheer force of the play presented in Chekhov’s own language”. Similarly, Enda Walsh’s The New Electric Ballroom at the Peacock will blow us away because its writer “is one of the world’s most original voices”. And so on.
Conditions are predicted to be especially violent at the Project Arts Centre where a troupe of Flemish teenagers will present what the programme – gusting to Force Seven – calls a “riotous, chaotic and indefinable show [that] will make you feel old”.
This one will blow us away because “these energy-giving fearless Belgian teenagers will quite simply knock you off your feet”. Which is a somewhat circular argument. But if you’re old already, or in any way unstable, the show might be best avoided.
One of the festival’s more unusual stages this year is Liberty Hall, which is to be turned into a “50-metre-high, low-resolution TV screen” for the duration of the festival. Under the title “Playhouse”, it will be the focus of an interactive project whereby the public can design a light show to illuminate what the organisers call this “iconic” building. And yes, this too will blow us away.
I must have missed the meeting where Liberty Hall was promoted to being an icon. I still thought people considered it more of an i-sore. In fact, to adapt the festival theme, many of us have long hoped that somebody or something would blow it away, rather than the other way around.
How typical that now, when Siptu has finally commissioned plans to replace it, a groundswell of affection is gathering force. No doubt there’ll be tears when it goes, and laments for the loss of another piece of old Dublin.
Speaking of groundswells, the 2009 theatre festival also includes a film season at the IFI featuring cinematic versions of the plays of JM Synge. Naturally these include Riders to the Sea, his tragedy set in a western fishing community.
You’ll recall that the action centres on the doomed decision of Bartley, an elderly widow’s sole surviving son, to set sail with his horses for Galway Fair, even though, as another character warns: “There’s a great roaring in the west and it’s worse it will be getting when the tide’s turned . . .” Perhaps because this is not part of the mainstream festival, the programme does not tell us why the Synge films will blow us away. But whatever the reason, in this particular case such restraint can only be welcomed.
DESPITE THE sceptical tone of a recent diary on the subject, the producers of 1916: The Musical have invited me to a series of media briefings in Dublin next month. According to the Anglo-Irish company, this will be an “ideal opportunity to learn more about 1916 Productions, their projects, and plans”. It sounds intriguing. Although there is no suggestion that these meetings will be in any way secret, never mind unlawful, there is a furtive thrill to the thought of being involved in the planning stages of such a thing. Never mind that one might have reservations about the tastefulness of the show, and indeed about its prospects for success. What if, against all odds, a terrible beauty is born? It would be nice to be able to claim afterwards that one had been in the GPO – as it were – at the start, before it became profitable or popular. Or at least to be able to say, like Yeats: “I have met them at close of day/Coming with vivid faces/From counter or desk among grey/Eighteenth Century houses”.
Besides, in the wake of last weekend’s Farmleigh conference, where several leading businessmen spoke of how the arts could play a key role in getting Ireland out of the current mess, 1916: the Musical suddenly looks well-timed. We heard Dermot Desmond speak of the need to “monetise” Irish culture. Likewise, Denis O’Brien suggested the fame of our story-tellers, poets, and artists gave us an edge that we could exploit in business.
So perhaps 1916: the Musical, like the event it is based on, will catch a shifting mood in the Irish psyche. It is after all scheduled to open in Dublin the autumn after next, when the economy might just be rising, Phoenix-like, from the ashes.
Maybe it will fan the flames.
Sure, the critics will probably hate it. But supported by her exiled children in America and by gallant allies in Europe, as well as any other tourists who might be persuaded to buy tickets, the production could well strike in full confidence of victory. After that, a
transfer to the West-End and Broadway would be a
formality.
I think I had better attend briefings, just in case. There might be a pension in this yet.
fmcnally@irishtimes.com