My carefully planned visit to the 2024 Dublin Theatre Festival started and ended in unexpected events. On the day of arrival, ten minutes after leaving the hotel, I was engulfed by crowds of people waving Irish flags and shouting “Whose streets? Our streets!”. This anti-immigration march of Irish nationalists filled O’Connell Street, stopping traffic to make space for speeches and chanting. In the evening before my departure, the entrance to the Gate Theatre was practically blocked by what seemed an endless parade of people incantating “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free”. My festival adventure was thus framed with political meanings which rendered theatrical work not very topical.
Traditionally, the 2024 festival programme combined shows offering what was meant to be a comprehensive coverage of all tastes and aesthetic agendas. I decided to follow established names and labels in the Irish section of the programme, deeming that their recognised artistic standing would produce a representative outline of what is going on in the country’s theatre today.
The broad outline of the festival selection advertised in the programme note by Willie White, the outgoing Artistic Director, touched base with all corners of the theatrical world. The philosophy which can be summed up by the dictum “let’s give everyone something they like” meant Irish work next to international productions; new plays by debut writers mixed with older drama by experienced hands; dance and physical performance by experimental groups interwoven with wordy productions from institutional theatres; political and historical drama complemented with shows for children and young adults (Family Season). To what extent this blend of tastes forms an attractive proposal for the contemporary Irish society who – as my street knowledge teaches – do not like immigrants and love the Palestinians? Can theatre explain the logic of this exclusive inclusivity?
Reconciliation was definitely a dominating spirit of The Agreement from the Lyric Theatre, Belfast. Owen McCafferty’s most recent play reconstructed final days and hours of the Good Friday Agreement negotiations, featuring all key players who produced the celebrated document. Its choreography brilliantly recreated discord gradually brough to harmony by staging moveable office desks and chairs which first orbited in chaotic and disconnected circles only to form ordered negotiation tables towards the end of the show. In the flurry of official documents and among angry telephone calls, radical views of Gerry Adams, Bertie Ahern or David Trimble were gradually smoothed out. The intransigent fanaticism was presented as destructive, sometimes also ridiculous. Clearly, the path to peace led through those political figures who were ready to step back from their entrenched views. This highly entertaining and definitely uplifting production looked at the Northern Irish political conundrum with a pinch of historical satire. Although its positive message of de-escalation sounds very enticing today, the problem is to what extent its relaxed and vaudeville spirit could be extended to address warring parties immersed in deadly conflicts in Israel, Ukraine, or even the US.
However, one needs to give it to McCafferty, The Agreement seemed to be the only production on the festival track which remotely addressed dilemmas of relatively contemporary politics. This definitely cannot be stated about two productions of Brian Friel’s plays. My general impression after seeing a number of canonical works by the author of Feith Healer either on London or Dublin stages is that while there is a surplus of acting talent to drive Friel’s characters to fascinating depths, the general shortage of ideas to invent new, creative shows and set designs turns most of theatrical nights into events uncannily resembling one another. With Dancing at Lughnasa at the Gate Theatre, which was not officially in the programme but premiered roughly around the time of the festival, the setting and costumes recreated the familiar spirit of historical time, with minute details reflected through realistic props.
Photo credit: Ros Kavanagh
It was also full of surreal nostalgia produced by the end-less road meandering into the stage horizon and by the non-existent walls behind cupboards and tables of a skeleton of the cottage kitchen. It seems to me it is really hard to make Friel’s dialogues sound natural against the landscape which does not owe much to fact.
Photo credit: Ros Kavanagh
Yet, the production gained psychological depth thanks to skilled acting which changed sometimes very predicable dialogues into emotion-driven communication. For the wild dance scene, the female cast reached authentic, atavistic and immersive level of expression which truly escaped description. The sisters’ relation to Uncle Jack as well as Chris’s encounters with Garry sounded very affectionate and natural.
The festival presentation of Molly Sweeney from Townhall Theatre in Galway offered brilliant acting yoked to the task of driving a thoroughly conventional show. With three chairs and an empty stage, Friel’s monologue play presented what it is in its barest structure: talking heads suspended on immovable, theatrically inefficient bodies. Misty fog pumped up by dry ice fogger enveloped actors who slumbered in motionless halt after each part they delivered. Performers, addressing either the audience or their hibernated companions, made only limited movements between the proscenium arch and their designated seating station. Yet, had the concept for the production been a tad more challenging, vivid recollections full of human interaction so skilfully encapsulated by Friel in his monologues could have been enacted on the stage, turning solitary speakers into engaged commentators of exciting commotion of daily life. That would have freed even more of the obvious acting energy clearly exuding from the three performers whose psychological portrayals of the play’s narrators exposed vast amounts of emotional truth and psychological depth. Dynamic and internally complex characters stood in contrast to their static bodily frames, and the verbosity of the text was weighing heavily on the sensitivity which they so obsessively, yet obliquely, tried to confess to the audience. These characters were moving, and yet remained unmoved.
(End of Part I)
To read PART II of this report, go to this link.
This post was written by the author in their personal capacity.The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect the view of The Theatre Times, their staff or collaborators.
This post was written by Michał Lachman.
The views expressed here belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect our views and opinions.
