"Yes I said yes I will yes" - Bloomsday 2011 by Emma Pell

On our first Friday in Ireland, we went as a class to the James Joyce tower in Sandycove. We stood in the room in which the events that initiate Ulysses took place. Some members of the group were already enamored with Joyce and his masterpiece (namely Anthony Rodriguez who never seems to be without his copy of Ulysses), while for others this tour was their first exposure to James Joyce’s life and writing.

Bloomsday in Dublin 2011 by Damon Schoeffler. 

A week later, Bloomsday arrived and Dublin was filled with costumed bicyclists, performers, and Joyce enthusiasts. Our class took a trip to the James Joyce Center here in Dublin and wandered through rooms filled with portraits and photographs of Joyce, theater posters, and educational videos about the author. Much fun was had taking pictures of the beautiful house (which interestingly Joyce never resided in, and is only connected to him by virtue of the fact that a friend of his -upon whom he based the character Magginni- ran a dance studio there), and everyone enjoyed delving a bit deeper into the life of James Joyce whose work had taken over the streets outside.

Ashley McLaughlin and author Emma Pell gaze out on North Great St. Georges Street. 

Samanta Cubias tries to approach the awesomeness of Joyce's own father
in facial expression and comportment.

Lura and a bunch of our gang pose in front of a bunch of theatre, opera and music posters related to the world of Joyce's writing.

After the Joyce Center the class splintered off to various Bloomsday activities including attending recitations of poemsongs and ballads at Stephen’s Green, and attending a reading of the Cyclops episode of Ulysses by Barry McGovern at The Gate Theater’s Gate Lab. I was part of the lucky group that attended this reading, and the legendary actor did not disappoint. In an intimate rehearsal room McGovern presented an abridged version of the episode with inflection and characterization only an actor could bring to such a reading. After the short reading (which lasted only about 20 minutes), several of us got to meet the great man, shake his hand, take a picture or get an autograph, and then squeal about it all the way back to Trinity.

Rosa Navarette, Emma, Barry McGovern, Anthony Rodriguez and
Karlie Braufman at the Gate. 

That evening the class reconvened for a performance of “Songs from Here and There” by Jack and Mac. Jack and Mac (plus Rodney) created a beautiful show specifically for our class, singing songs from Ireland, Britain, and America, and providing historical context between segments. Personal favorites were their renditions of “When a Felon’s Not Engaged in His Employment” from Gilbert and Sullivan’s “Pirates of Penzance,” and Tom Lehrer’s “Poisoning Pigeons in the Park.” Though their traditional Irish laments were just as beautifully sung and just as enjoyable to listen to. Their humor was infectious and a beautiful time was had by all. The trio included a reading of the Cyclops episode from Ulysses as well performed by Rodney, so for the lot of us that had been to see the Barry McGovern reading, we had a chance to better grasp the story (the accents making it a bit difficult to understand on both occasions) and to do a little comparing and contrasting of the readings, though both were lovely and equally entertaining.

Rodney Devitt, Jack Morrissey and Brian McIvor in "Songs from Here and There." 

Rodney Devitt as James Joyce, our "surprise" guest of the evening.

This Bloomsday seemed to be tailor made for our class. It included literature for the more academically inclined, many performances for the more theatrically inclined, and silly outfits for all.

Scenes from an Acting Class

Over the course of our program, some of the greatest playwrights in the history of Irish theatre have come to life through the bodies of our students in Lura Dolas' "Applied Acting Techniques" class.  Some shots from class, and more to come on students' experiences with Lura in their pursuit of ruthless objectives together.   

Lori Cone and Gwen Kingston in Waiting for Godot

Nancy Martinez bringing some of the Bard to Inishmore while performing "Twelfth Night".

Check out the "Shakespearean Performance in Ireland: 1660-1904" database organized by Patrick Lonergan (National University of Ireland, Galway).  Shakespeare has a place in Irish theatre history as well!

  http://www.irishtheatricaldiaspora.net/shakespeare/credits.html 

Theresa Nguyen brings "Measure for Measure" to life at the Samuel Beckett Centre Dance Studio.

Damon Schoeffler and Devon Roe in one of modern Irish theatre's seminal texts,
 J.M. Synge's "Playboy of the Western World"

Lura working with Samanta Cubias in class. 

Joaquin Ticonderoga, Karlie Braufman and Michael Kunze in a staged reading from
Martin McDonagh's Lieutenant of Inishmore on... Inishmore.

Hamilton Guillen and Bernadette Bascom take on Marina Carr's By the Bog of Cats.

Lura prepares students for their work together.

"A Midsummer Night's Dream?, or The Bard Will Rock?" by Nancy Martinez- Loose Cannon at the Project, Part II

The production of Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Project Arts Center veers drastically from the traditional portrayal of Shakespeare’s plays. It employs a minimalist set, and strange sound effects represent fairy magic. The actors wear rock band t-shirts, portray at least two characters each, and use an acting style nothing like that taught in a Shakespearean acting class. This version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream is meant to break convention, poke fun at Shakespeare, and make the text more accessible to a larger audience. It invites many laughs, having the actors make a lot of self-reference through dialogue added about the production itself. It came up short, however, in using this medium to make the bold statements it could have about the rock subculture and the director’s interpretation of the text. The music, the costumes, the props, and the technology in this production could have been used to greater effect; and the actors’ acting technique could have been more specific in the portrayal of the characters’ roles within the rock industry and their relationships to each other.

Fairies allegedly rocking out in Loose Cannon's "A Midsummer Night's Dream?"

            The preshow music featured a selection of Black Sabbath songs, and it became clear why when some of the actors walked out wearing rock band t-shirts. One actor wore a t-shirt which featured Black’s Sabbath’s song “Paranoid.” The others wore Metallica and Dead Kennedys shirts, and the last two actors wore jeans and plain t-shirts. This directorial choice was intriguing, making one expect the production to make a statement about rock, metal, and punk subcultures; perhaps about the youth that have taken part in them, or about the glamour of the stereotypical “Sex, Drugs, and Rock ‘n’ Roll” lifestyle of rock-stars. Or maybe the shirts clue the audience in on a unique characteristic of the respective band that the character embodies--one wonders if the characters of Oberon and Lysander will manifest battles with depression in keeping with the lyrics of the song of the actor’s Black Sabbath t-shirt, or if the actress in the Dead Kennedys shirt will display any punk ideologies.

The use of recorded sound effects as the sounds made when fairies use their magical powers wins many laughs from the audience. The sounds played when fairies freeze and strike people are something out of 60’s superhero cartoons, sounding like the “pows” and “whams” written in comic books. The sound played when they use the love potion in the love-in-idleness flower is the single, sustained note used in science fiction movies when eerie and mysterious events take place. Another notable use of technology in this production is the fog machine used towards the end of the play when the love spell is lifted from Lysander and Demetrius. Instead of being hidden offstage as is usually done, the fog machine is used by a character onstage as a prop. He sprays the fog directly at Lysander and Demetrius, causing them to topple over when they try to stand. This may have been to convey the hazy mania of a rock concert, or depict the disorienting effects of drugs--suggesting that the perceived effects of the love potion were the result of frenzying ebullience or a psychedelic trip.

These choices could have been pushed further. The fairies almost “rock out” a few times during the play, but the actors did not fully commit to this. A typical response among rock fans is to nod one’s head violently to the music’s beat, or headbang, but the actors’ version of this was too relaxed and subdued to be realistic. However, this choice did succeed  in portraying a modernized idea of what fairies might do in their spare time, and is funny and familiar to the audience, bringing to mind images of teenagers portrayed in popular culture, such as in That 70’s Show or the film Dazed and Confused. This is the extent to which rock music is used in the performance, which ignores this as an opportunity to state that the rock scene is often a haven for teenagers and young adults who are unable or unwilling to conform to the social environment. This makes music a safe form of self-expression and offers a new means of forming relationships, which could have been portrayed by these fairies as they rock out together.

The actress in the Dead Kennedys shirt did not exemplify any typical punk ideologies, which would have served the character of Helena well. The actress’ portrayal of Helena was that of a frail, needy woman. This makes sense because of the character’s abject promise of submissiveness to Demetrius (exemplified in the line “I am your spaniel”). Non-conformity, direct action, and anti-sexism are just a few examples of common punk viewpoints, and the manifestation of these would have created a character unique from other productions of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. This would have been in harmony with this production’s break from convention--a confident, bold, demanding Helena would have broken stereotypes of women of this period, and would have made her fight for Demetrius very different and possibly more exciting to watch. Helena believes Lysander and Demetrius are mocking her at one point when they both suddenly act as though they are in love with her. By using the punk culture here, the audience could have been exposed to a brazen woman willing to employ some physical form of protestation to the breakup and called men out on their sexist objectification of her as the actress only used Shakespeare’s text.

Playing the love story straight as it were.

            The production breaks convention again through the use of language and the set design. The actors use their own Irish accents, not English Theater Standard or American Theater Standard, which serves to localize as well as modernize the play. There were deliberately comical choices in the delivery of lines, such as Pucks’ recital of his monologues in a sing-song-y style and Oberon’s unique speech pattern that caused him to break lines up in strange places. There were a few extra lines added as well; little remarks on the quality of the play or props. The minimalist set it was performed on had white sheets placed to create the walls and floor of the set, with only a table laden with food and alcohol as props. This may have been done to bring the audience’s attention to the actors, forcing us to watch the actors and not their props.

            The employment of such specific and comical speech choices called for the acting itself to either match in comical effect or ignore the speech entirely. Since the play was not “traditional” in other aspects of the production, the acting should have either veered far from traditional Elizabethan acting as well, or been done as seriously and earnestly as possible. Such bold and specific choices would either enhance the unconventional and comical use of the sound and set, or disregard it completely to make a statement on the theater’s reliance on props and tradition. Because of the use of cartoonish sounds and unique speech patterns, the characters themselves could have been more cartoonish, with more exaggerated movements and body language to complete the larger-than-life quality of the characterizations. Since Oberon spoke so melodramatically and wore a glittering rock band shirt, his physical choices could have been just as exaggerated to create the image of glamour and self-importance prevalent among rock-stars. A serious, conventional acting approach would have made the drastically different choices in costume and set much more resonant with the audience, forcing the audience to search for the significance of these choices. It also would have served in making the production funny (which appeared to be the director’s goal throughout the production) because of the characters’ ignorance to the absurdity of their surroundings and clothing. But neither of these extreme approaches was taken in the acting, leaving the actors’ performances in a sort of middle ground which rendered the bold choices made in other aspects of the production irrelevant, and therefore distracting rather than enhancing.

Because of the lack of set change and costuming, stronger characterization would have also helped the audience follow the story. The only costume change employed was the addition of children’s costume fairy wings, and lack of character differentiation made the actors’ performances one big blur. Also, the use of the actors’ self-reference throughout the production made the audience aware of itself as an audience, bringing us out of the story. This could have been used to greater effect if it had been done more sparingly. If done less, it would have been funnier when done, and would still have created a cohesive story for the audience to follow. The use of certain props could have been clarified as well. Because the rock cultures were not manifested through the actors’ characterizations, one is left unsure as to whether the use of the fog machine was chosen to represent mania or drug use, causing one to question the director’s choices instead of receiving a clear statement about rock music.

Prop table with fairy wings on the left. 

The production lacked specificity in a lot of aspects. When a few very bold choices are made but the rest of the production does not back them up, the choices become distractions. No clear statement is made, even to those in the audience who actively participate in rock, punk, and metal subcultures. Sound effects and special effects can be used to great theatrical effect, and minimalist sets can serve to focus the audience on the characters, but when the characters themselves offer no distinct and specific choices and actions, the whole production becomes hazier than the moment the actor pulled out the fog machine. It all brings the audience out of the story without reason: the audience does not question its values, nor does it have a new view on teen subcultures, which is what the director’s choices in this production could have done.

"Finding New Ways to Dream"- Michael Kunze on Loose Cannon's "A Midsummer Night's Dream?" at the Project Arts Centre, June 15

Sitting in the audience, waiting for the show to begin.
Photo: Rosa Naravette

In Loose Cannon’s hilarious A Midsummer Night’s Dream, the company thumbed its nose at “traditional” productions of the show, yet still managed to get at the heart of the piece, reminding us that while we should not be ignorant of a play’s history, it is not set in stone. As a disclaimer, it should be said that this production of the play is not for Shakespeare diehards, those who hang onto the rhythm and rhyme of the language and fight to the death to preserve the sanctity of the text. It is for those of us who have never seen Shakespeare, or are tired of tired productions of Midsummer. It is for people who find it mostly irrelevant to our crazy mixed-up modern world, and for those of us who would like to dig up Shakespeare from his grave and ask the simple question: “What the hell are you talking about?”

A Midsummer Night’s Dream is perhaps the most performed play of Shakespeare’s vast canon. It is full of fairies and whimsy and jealous lovers and magic spells. Almost anyone familiar with the world of theater is familiar with the world of Oberon and Titania and the four star-crossed lovers, and some of us have seen the play countless times. As a consequence, some swear they will never go to see another production, for with each new viewing comes diminished returns. How many ways can one frolic like a fairy? How many ways can a stage capture the magic of the forest? How many ways can the lines be said in perfect iambic pentameter, capturing the full glory of Shakespeare’s words?

Loose Cannon answers all of these questions by changing the questions themselves, and manage to bring new meaning and depth to the play while at the same time updating it for a modern audience. The forest was erased; the stage was merely a white box, with a few tables off to the side containing the minimal props used in the show: a few bottles, a pack of cigarettes, and of course, fairy wings. Instead of moving through a dark and powerful forest bursting with whimsy, the actors sauntered through cyberspace, their paths improvised to the whims of their imaginations. Oftentimes they seemed bored and static, standing around doing nothing, perhaps echoing our own fatigue with the overwrought clichés of prancing fairies. Yet their movements still rang with truth in a modern sense, the lovers especially calling to mind the slouched disinterest with which our youth approach romance. This is not to say they were not attracted to each other, but rather that their magnetism was fueled by other, more primal things. The lovers stumbled around as if intoxicated, occasionally bumping into each other in a drugged-out lazy haze.

And the fairies themselves! It seemed as if they were making up for centuries of men having their masculinity stripped away as they were forced to caper and cavort in tights and pixie wings. Gone were the tights and fantastical feathers and frisking through the forest, replaced with heavy metal t-shirts and ripped jeans and the barest suggestion of wings: simple things of elastic and plastic such as an eight-year old girl would wear on Halloween. And when the wings were strapped on as the actors switched characters it was done with the obstinacy of a teenage boy forced to read romantic poetry. And the most prominent proponent of this theme of the anti-fairy was Phil Kingston, who played what is usually the most frivolous of fairies, the mischievous Puck. Standing there chain-smoking cigarettes in his Black Sabbath tee with his little pot-belly sticking out, one could not be reminded less of the prototypical loud, lithe and bubbly incarnations of the character with which we are all so familiar.

Phil Kingston as Puck. 

Mr. Kingston seemed to be one of the only actors making attempts at iambic pentameter, but only so far as to make fun of it. He delivered his lines in a mulish monotone, saying the lines with a marked disinterest and the childishness of a nursery rhyme. The other actors chopped up the lines in more strange ways, mostly devoid of any particular rhyme scheme. Leading the charge in this insurrection against the iamb was the actor who played both Lysander and King Oberon, who spoke haltingly and with odd, non-poetic emphasis. Some members of the audience claimed that he was difficult to follow, but I was not hindered in my way. His speech pattern, in my experience, is a very common way to talk in this day and age.

This performance brought into focus the follies of clinging too tightly to “Shakespearean tradition”, and poked fun at those who champion too strongly the inviolability of that tradition. One of my major complaints with seeing Shakespeare performed is that oftentimes it does not make sense. Sometimes people seem to just say the lines and trust in the natural beauty and “Shakespearean quality” of the language without actually taking the time to learn what those words mean and how they relate to our time period. Shakespeare’s work has stood the test of time because the themes and the characters and the stories still are relevant to our own lives. One should not have to be a Shakespearean scholar and enthusiast to appreciate and benefit from those messages. This is not to say that one cannot successfully perform Midsummer in iambic pentameter with frilly fairy costumes and a magical enchanted forest. It has been done, and will continue to be done with beauty and skill. But it is a failure if the production only focuses on these elements without attempting to make sense of the story itself.

Despite all the deliberate disses to the Shakespearean tradition, the Loose Cannon production still managed to hold onto the spine of the story. One still felt the pain of Hermia when she awoke to find her love’s love gone and her fury at Helena for that loves loss. And Helena in turn, evoked empathy for the  imagined cruelty towards her at the hands of Demetrius and Lysander, who in the blink of an eye go from spurning her to proclaiming their love for her. The most powerful moment for me was when Peter Quince apologized to the audience, saying he was sorry if he offended with his production of the play within the play, echoing the offence that many audience members felt at the treatment of Shakespeare’s hallowed text. He then went on to gently remind us that it was all a dream, that it was all Bottom’s dream, that life is all just a dream. And these messages, even in this modern day and age, still rang true.

Jade Laity on Shane Connaughton's "The Pitch" at the New Theatre on June 13

            An old man with age lines shadowing the contours of his face, stands against what appears to be a kindergarten painted backdrop indicating the expansive Irish countryside. The distant look within his eyes help transform the audience to a fixed place and time where young men walk with determination on to a fresh field of grass in rugby jerseys to play a championship game over and over for all eternity.

            The setting of the play is both humble and minimalist much like the protagonist himself. The design work indirectly asks the audience to stretch their imaginations within the walls of the intimate New Theater to piece together a world, a pastiche of memories, which surround the history shared by the old man, Philly.  Amongst the sparse greenery on the small stage is a large rusted milk container which functions as the poor mans seat within his forum of memory. A worn portion of a rugby goal dominates stage left with a rusted chain precariously wrapped around the neck of the goal, informing the viewers to the reason behind the title. The eroding field is actually the rugby ‘pitch’ and original site of the series of events that will continue to incessantly haunt and re-circulate in Philly’s mind.

            The Pitch was both written by, and starring Irish actor Shane Connaughton. His career as writer has been most notably marked by his nomination for best screenplay in 1989 for his work on the film, My Left Foot. Connaughton’s ability as an actor on the stage is undeniable. He charms the hearts of people in their seats with his grouchy moments and humorous anecdotes as he relives his past through telling the supporting characters about instances in his life particularly his loss in a rugby championship that took place on that very green and how he connects it the hardship and trajectory of his life as a country man in Ireland. The first act simply heartwarming and will force a decent amount of chuckles out of anyone due to Connaughton’s excellent characterization of the part. His fidgeting with his clothing in combination with the physicalization of the characters ailments helped create the illusion of a man that had lived on the fringe of Irish society for the past few decades. Throughout the show, he provides a youthful twinkle in his blue eyes, displaying a unique vibrancy during each one of his speeches. 

Philly’s old age is further highlighted by his juxtaposition and cantankerous interaction with supporting character Penny. The spunky yet seemingly immature twenty something character intrudes onto Philly’s property in what becomes a very complicated web of objectives as she assists her uncle Ronny, the money grubbing relative of Philly’s former enemies who is attempting to con Philly out of his families land.  At the age of 71, Connaughton had a strong sense of control and awareness of his body that would be truly impressive for a performer at any age. I suspect that his ability to create a fully developed character was only furthered by his involvement in the play’s genesis being the original writer himself.  Whether the play informs the audience with past of events inspired by Connaughton’s true life remains highly unclear, yet the use of sincere emotion helps dictate the potency of every action on stage: with his use of his cane to point out the landmarks of his property as he speaks reminiscently, meanwhile walking around stage with a potentially deadly injury on his foot that requires his character to be in an out of pain.

Shane Connaughton’s performance is so strong, independent and riddled with nuance that it is almost difficult to remember it as being much other than a “one man show”. However, the two other characters seem to provide a means for helping Philly’s character transition from one past event to the next. Although, Penny, the trendy fervent girl serves as both a comedic counterpart in the first act as well as a source for plot development in the second act, her character lacked the luster to truly astonish. To sympathize with her, the play consisted mostly of Philly’s detailed monologues leaving her little room to speak. The character creates a comic counterpart to Philly that helps soften our hearts, yet her emotional scenes did not seem very memorable, but rather forced.  As the young girl who arrives in the pitch in the opening scene Penny (Fiona Fitzpatrick) was a bit overwhelming at times with her dramatic facial expressions, however, I am not sure if that was an attempt to heighten the difference between her generation in comparison to that of Philly? Or if it was simply reflected the character as it was intended to be performed? Despite some of what appeared to be a bit of over the top especially in the second act, Fitzpatrick did fair well with the challenge of participating in a play that required her to be ever present onstage and maintaining an inner monologue for the length of the entire show. Her performance is commendable seeing as she accompanied two older male characters whom both veterans of their craft such as Connaughton himself.

After walking out of the play I had the overwhelming suspicion that I had seen this play before in one form or another. There was a familiarity in the multiple overriding themes within the plot of the play for example the use of the supernatural (Philly mentions he has a healing power that has the potential to save others) that in retrospect deserved far more attention within the story’s development. Also the themes of man and the natural world, betrayal, and versions of reality that are all themes mentioned in Shakespeare’s last play The Tempest. Both of these plays have several parallels throughout the evolution of these plotlines, both protagonists (Philly in The Pitch, and Propero in The Tempest) were men who lived with the isolation of living in nature of which resulted in their seclusion from the rest of the society and the world in both a literal and metaphorical sense. These two male characters also possessed supernatural or mystical abilities that assisted them yet could not fully solve their obstacles within their worlds. Each of them also, dealt with issues of being betrayed by those around them from their past and having to forgive in order to continue a sense of peace in their spirit and rid themselves of crippling animosity. In many ways the character of Penny (The Pitch) also had several similarities to Miranda (daughter of Prospero in The Tempest) both were the only girls that were forced to have most of their fate destined by the choices of the men around them, also both these characters did not receive much attention, depth or character development throughout the plays in comparison to the male protagonists, but rather served a bit more as fixtures. Finally, the idea of  “versions of reality” and how it is so crucial to an individual that they remember the distinct turning points in their life. Each memory is created from a series of details that will differ from the next person thus perpetuating its own reality.

The play proposes the idea or universal theme that our memories woven together provide our identities, our reasons behind the unconventional actions or choices made. Overall, I had found it interestingly appropriate that all these connections to The Tempest were made whether it was intentional or not. I think it quite possible that these allusions to Shakespeare may have been intentional to some degree, however, I feel as though these are ubiquitous themes found in a lifetime of experience. The aspect of the show that continued to capture my show was the combination unwavering commitment by Connaughton, as well as a small glimpse into the some of the Irish characteristics of this show especially the man’s connection to his heritage and land.  The show in its entirety lacked a bit of focused and was overwhelmed by a multitude of interesting themes that should have all been elaborated far more in depth. Parts of the plot lacked focus because I felt that this may be one of Connaughton’s last plays, so much like Shakespeare, he began combining every theme into one production in an effort to voice as much of his unfinished business from other projects as possible. Most of all I enjoyed Connaughton’s abilities as an actor, his commitment to the role alone is worth seeing. 

Another perspective on "Pygmalion" by Karlie Braufman- " 'Pygmalion' at the Abbey- No Audrey? No Problem!"

          In Caomhan Keane’s review of Pygmalion at the Abbey Theatre, he describes this production of the 1912 George Bernard Shaw classic as, “My Fair Lady. Without Audrey. Or the tunes,” referencing the hit 1964 musical film adaptation of the play starring the beloved Audrey Hepburn. What Keane fails to emphasize is the production’s dynamic, detailed, and colorful choices in acting and design, which consistently captivate and delight the audience, giving them no reason to long for catchy songs or Ms. Hepburn’s classic beauty and grace. Director Annabelle Comyn adds a fresh energy to Shaw’s romantic comedy (which also happens to be a commentary on class systems and feminism) about phonetics professor Henry Higgins, who accepts a challenge to transform poor, Cockney-accented flower girl Eliza Doolittle into an elegant lady by teaching her proper speech.

         The actors vary greatly in style and energy from one another, and while that variation may seem discordant at times, it actually adds to the excitement and deeper meaning of the production overall. When staging a production of such a ubiquitous play as Pygmalion, it is important to make bold choices that set it apart from other performances of it. In the Abbey’s production, those choices shine through in the actors’ diverse characterizations, which are strong and compelling. Most notably, actress Charlie Murphy is an outstanding leading lady as Eliza Doolittle. Her Cockney accent is spot-on, and she plays the role with just the right balance of feistiness and earnestness to make her character credible and easy to root for. Her looks, too, fit the part of Eliza perfectly; although she is quite pretty, she is not an ethereal, glamorous Audrey Hepburn type, but rather has a charmingly quirky, down-to-earth face that would not seem out of place on an actual impoverished, Edwardian-era flower girl. The one issue I have with Murphy’s Eliza involves her voice after learning speech from Higgins. I have no idea if this is a conscious acting or directing decision or just the limitations of Murphy’s natural voice, but Eliza’s post-Higgins accent is not as perfectly proper as I hoped it would be. It still has slight hints of lower-class speech, which make for a less powerful transformation than with other Elizas I have seen who adopt flawless Queen’s English in the second half of the play. In general, however, Murphy more than makes up for this small imperfection, managing to play pre-Higgins Eliza with a realistic accent, spirited vivacity, and full vocal projection without coming off as grating or annoying (as some Elizas I have seen have been) and lets that intensity continue after her transformation, when she struggles with the unfairness of suppressed independence for women.

         The other actors, for the most part, bring just as much vitality to Pygmalion as Murphy does. Risteard Cooper plays Higgins with a sense of enthusiastic arrogance, gracelessness, and flippancy that works to emphasize the feminist undertones of the play. In a couple of other productions of Pygmalion I have seen, Higgins’ crudeness and sexism are downplayed to the point where he becomes nothing more than a charming romantic hero whom audiences hope will end up with Eliza. Cooper’s portrayal of Higgins, however, although still rather charming, seems more along the lines of how Shaw, as a feminist, might want to see his work performed onstage today if he were still alive. In all the flaws that Cooper brings to Higgins, from his improper mannerisms, such as putting his feet up on furniture, to his lack of empathy toward Eliza, especially in act four, the audience gets a clearer sense of the sexism happening in the world of the play. If the audience can become outraged at Higgins’ behavior in general, it is easier for them to react the same way to the sexist and classist double standards and oppression going on, such as treating Eliza as property to be bought, sold, and judged solely on appearance, rather than as a fellow human being with feelings.

         From an actor’s point of view, although Murphy and Cooper make excellent, thought-provoking leads, the best acting in the production comes from two of the supporting actors. Eleanor Methven as Mrs. Higgins and Nick Dunning as Colonel Pickering are both seasoned veterans of the Irish theatre scene, and their experience and talent shine even when playing these parts that are not necessarily the starring roles of the play. These two truly accomplish the feat that is mastering the art of listening in acting. I find myself looking over at them while other characters are speaking, just to see their incredibly clear inner monologues and reactions in their faces and body language.

         The other “actors” that stand out the most are the sets and costumes, designed by Paul O‘Mahony and Peter O‘Brien, respectively. Their exquisite detail and historical accuracy make them more than just a background for the characters to play over, but rather devices that transport everyone in the theatre, onstage and off, to a different era for two and a half hours. As a costume constructor myself, my brain nearly goes into sensory overload as I ogle the gorgeous, billowy, embellished dresses that Mrs. Eynsford-Hill, Clara, and post-transformation Eliza wear. Even more impressive are the distressed, dirty rags that Eliza and her father wear before their ascent into high society. They are so filthy that the class differences between the Doolittles and the more well-off characters are immediately apparent and striking, which seems to be something Shaw himself would have enjoyed seeing, given his interest in exploring, breaking down, and mocking the British class system.

         Surprisingly, this is the first time Pygmalion, an extremely popular play by Shaw, a revered Irish playwright, has been produced at the Abbey. Now is a particularly interesting time to premiere this Irish play about life in England, considering the Queen of England’s recent visit to the Republic of Ireland, the first state visit here by a British monarch, which was largely considered to be an act of friendship. Is staging this Irish-British hybrid play also an act of friendship? Or is it more of a statement of disapproval, given the satirical nature of the play’s view of the British social hierarchy? Either way, the timing of this production relative to the Queen’s visit provides audience members with ample discussion topics and questions to contemplate upon leaving the theatre.

         The Irish national theatre’s first production of Pygmalion has something for everyone, from theatre scholars researching the performance of class and gender to fans of “My Fair Lady” who are curious to see what it is like without Audrey and the tunes.

The best things can happen after the curtain goes down... Megan Sweeney on meeting the casts of our productions

UC Berkeley Students with the cast of
Loose Cannon's A Midsummer Night's Dream? at the Project Arts Centre on June 15

Two phrases come to mind when I think of Ireland thus far: dreary, gloomy weather and an intense, demanding workload that has pushed everyone in the best ways.  However, Ireland has also been great fun.  My favorite times are when the class meets the actors after the show.  Very different from the states (love that word), the actors come out after the performance to mingle and have a drink at the theatre bar.  It’s refreshing to talk to the actors; they are just as human as us all- they are humorous, charming, intelligent, and kind.   I have had lengthy conversations with actors from the casts of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof and Midsummer Night’s Dream.  It’s very inspiring to talk with the actors after they perform.  They are just living their dream...and anyone can do it.

Ursula Rani Sarma's visit to "Irish Theatre Today" by Theresa Nguyen

Ursula Rani Sarma in conversation with the class. 

            Our class had the exciting opportunity to meet Ursula Rani Sarma, a contemporary half-Indian/half-Irish playwright known for writing “Blue” and “The Magic Tree” among many other works. During the informal talk, she told us about her background as a playwright, the process she undertook to write and direct her own plays, as well as the struggles and “feeling” of making a career out of this art form.

For the most part, Ursula loves being a playwright and has had great success with it. Though she began writing plays since the age of three, she never dreamed of having her plays realized on stage until her undergraduate years in University College Cork, where she began directing after having a horrible experience as an actor in a student play. For her, being able to see and control all the relationships on stage was more interesting and exciting than being an actor who was “continually blinded by the spotlight.” As a playwright, Ursula explains that she also has the power to redefine parts of the play, especially when the plot fails to reach a natural arc for some reason or another during the rehearsal process. Of course she inevitably gets annoyed with actors that have either altered a character or played a character poorly; however, she finds the process of being able to sit and collaborate with them as they read over the play during the first week of rehearsal worthwhile.

Excited applause for our guest. 

Given her interesting background, we asked her about issues that touched upon race, gender, and teenage delinquency in Ireland. As an Irish native and one who looks more Irish than Indian, Ursula claims to have never personally experienced any racism growing up in Co Clare, a small town like many others that did not experience modernization until the late ‘90s. Though she admits that Ireland is conservative and generally homogenous, she does not believe that the Irish are “inherently racist,” at least for her generation. For instance, whenever she reveals half-Indian background, the general response would be that of interest rather than alienation. In her opinion, a racist comment was more of a reflection of being misunderstood as an Irishman. And it is this characteristic feeling of estrangement in Ireland that Ursula often times explore in her work. In her play, “Blue,” for example, teenagers experience the devastating, escapist effects of drug abuse. Growing up, Ursula observed that every teenager, including herself, wanted to leave his hometown, and this general desire is what Ursula suspected made drug addiction a sudden and recent problem in Ireland today. In that very same play, Ursula also experiments with androgyny and does not let the readers know that one of the main characters, Danny, is female until much later. Here, the juxtaposition of a tomboy and the notion of being female challenges the lifestyle of a country that still values domesticity. Overall, her plays reflect the Irish culture, from the portrayal of romantic landscapes to the conflicting, private-home issues that pervade Ireland.

Ursula’s writing style is unique. Her beautiful writing is lyrical and seemingly unstructured, almost experimental. When asked about the process of writing such plays, Ursula reveals that it often times begins with asking “Why?” This questioning, she notes, was especially most effective after having observed a particular detail, such as a group of teenagers talking among themselves in a café. She also explains that writing begins with a voice and the finish product with a vision. Unlike a novelist, she cannot describe the visual aspects of her story and so would have to already visualize the circumstances of which the dialogue took place in her play. As a writer, her biggest challenge is to accept the idea of “letting go.” Though she is constantly tempted to edit and rewrite her plays, she ultimately discovers that to get anything done, she must finish and move on. What is most important to her, she realizes, is challenging herself and taking on new ideas. In the end, she does not care how polished a piece is or how much acclaim it gets, but rather on the amount of risk she has taken to write and produce the play (as of now, that play for her is the “The Magic Tree”).

As a female playwright, Ursula is aware that her industry is pre-dominantly male. However, she notes that every major industry is. She, herself, was never intimidated by the poor female-male ratio; she was successful not only because she wrote good plays, but also because she knocked on people’s doors to have her plays produced. When our class asked for advice on being a successful actor, she commented that it ultimately came down to taking initiative. In other words, if she produced her own plays to get her name out there, why not create a one-man or one-woman show to do the same? At the end, this was her advice to us as well as inspiring writers and artists, just do it, and do it yourself.

Ursula and class.  

              

Meaningless Labels: A review of "Blood Knot" at the Project Arts Centre on June 8 by Cari Wieland

Kolade Agboke as Zach in Shiva Productions' Blood Knot 

        Shiva Productions, which produced Athol Fugard's play, Blood Knot, at the Project Arts Centre from June 6-11, has this to say about itself: 

"Shiva Productions is a newly-founded theatre company that believes passionately in theatre as a tool for change in society.  We aim to present plays which give voice to the disempowered in society and around the world: to provoke a response to action and thus create positive change."

         Bloodknot is a two character play about brothers, both of whom are disempowered but in vastly different ways and for different reasons.  Zach is a dark-skinned black man who suffers constant oppression in his daily life during the Apartheid era in South Africa.  His brother Morris has much fairer skin and could pass for white if he wished, though he chooses throughout the play to remain in the single room shack they share.  Using their conflicting dreams, desires, and attitudes about life, the play explores themes like the construction of race, the perpetuation of stereotypes, and what it means to be brothers in a world where skin color is more important than anything else.  While it remains to be seen whether the production will create positive change in the world, it definitely made a solid attempt at illuminating the dark spaces in the complicated relationship of Zach and Morris.    

            This production used a single set, richly detailed to depict the extreme poverty Zach and Morris live in.  The walls of their shack are made of corrugated iron sheets, covered in paper and cardboard where the metal has rusted out, Zach sleeps in a tiny bed with a thin mattress and single blanket while Morris sleeps on a pad on the floor, the stovetop is of the gas-powered camping variety set on top of two shelves containing both of their cooking pots, as well as their sorely deficient food stores, and there are only mere feet between the stove and the bed.  The play opens with Morris tidying up the space and preparing for Zach’s arrival home from work.  As he moves about, straightening the bedclothes, brushing crumbs off the table, boiling water to make a salt bath for Zach’s feet, the viewer gets a sense of how little there is to do in this environment, how limited Morris’ activities are due to a sheer lack of space.  Morris goes to the door several times to look out for Zach’s arrival.  We get the clear impression that this is the highlight of Morris’ day, and no wonder.  He has nothing to do and no one to talk to until his brother gets home, and when he does, Morris is visibly comforted by caring for and doting on Zach.  The brotherly relationship is convincingly portrayed by Keith Ward and Kolade Agboke, who move about the space and one another with the practiced ease of people who have known each other for a long time.  They switch back and forth between moments of tenderness, like when Morris lovingly presents Zach his dinner, and moments of irritation, as when Zach is annoyed at Morris’ incessant chatter.  This deft alternation of feelings gives us a full and rich picture of their particular sibling relationship.

With this opening scene, we are confronted with the disparity of a white man appearing in all ways to serve a black man and Fugard has promptly turned our presumed stereotypes on their heads.  In many ways, Zach seems to have more freedom than his light-skinned brother which is not at all what we would expect in South Africa at this time.  Zach leaves the house everyday to go to work, while Morris virtually never leaves, though we discover through their dialogue that Morris’ imprisonment is self-imposed.  Morris seems to be engaging in behaviors that oppress himself as a manifestation of white guilt.  For while Zach is able to leave the home and work, his experiences in the white world consist of belittlement at best, and abuse and violence at worst.  Because the text specifically calls for a white actor to play Morris, what we see is a white man choosing to live in servitude to his black brother in order to apologize for the crimes of his race.

Keith Ward’s Morris is stoop-shouldered and soft-spoken, giving the impression of a brow-beaten slave, while Kolade Agboke, as Zach, has the booming voice and bombastic style of a man entirely comfortable in his own skin and with his place in the world.  Set against this unexpected role reversal, however, are the advantages and privileges that Morris enjoys as a result of being fair-skinned.  The most important of these is that Morris can read and write while Zach cannot, and Morris knowingly uses this against him when they have a disagreement over the letters to his white, female pen pal.  Zach comes in proudly carrying a letter from Ethel and he does not want to share it with Morris just yet, preferring to savor the experience of gazing at the envelope and marveling at the handwriting in his own time before handing it over for Morris to reveal the content.  Morris is jealous and annoyed that Zach wants to keep secrets and belittles Zach by asking him if he is sure it’s his letter, insisting he cannot possibly be sure it is addressed to him since he cannot read.  Zach’s aplomb withers in short order and he hands over the letter.  This kind of power play between white and black men is indicative of the exchanges between races outside of their shack.  In fact, one theme of the play that Zach rails about is that not even the dreams of black men are safe from whites, that a man cannot keep a secret even in his mind.  And while Morris agrees with him at the time, he unwittingly perpetuates that oppression by forcing Zach to turn over his letter.

            Fugard uses the dreams of Morris and Zach to illustrate another philosophical difference between black and white men in South Africa.  Throughout the play Morris careful stashes Zach’s earnings from work, which he dreams of using to buy a farm where he and Zach can live in peace and have some measure of prosperity.  His farm represents an escape from oppression of all sorts, for both himself and his brother.  He is willing to sacrifice in the present in order to bank on a happier future, while Zach is the polar opposite.  Zach is portrayed as having immediate, pressing desires which he wants to satisfy right away.  He balks at saving money and in the second act, blows their entire savings on a suit for Morris to wear on a date.  This frivolous purchase is not as thoughtless as it seems; rather it is an indication that Zach does not believe he has a future to save for. Because Zach, like all black men, lives at the mercy of the white power structure, he completely lacks control over his own destiny.  By spending that money, Zach is thumbing his nose at his brother and, by extension, the entire white system, because it is one of the only things in the world over which he has control. 

            Shiva Productions’ decision to present this play at this time in Ireland, and using Irish actors is no accident.  If we look back to their mission statement, recall that they intend to use theatre “as a tool for change in society.”  This production comes at a time when there are an unprecedented number of black immigrants in Ireland and prejudice is an issue here as much as it is in America or South Africa.  By showing Ireland the extreme conditions of apartheid in South Africa, Shiva Productions intends for the Irish people to look at themselves and decide if this is the direction they want their country to go.  They want the Irish to see that race is, in fact, a construct, and it is perpetuated by our behavior toward one another as much as our belief in stereotypes, or our fear of the “other.”

            Zach and Morris are two human men, related by blood, sharing a house, who nonetheless experience the world in entirely different ways due to the colors of their skin.  What Fugard wants us to understand is that those differences are arbitrary and are culturally enforced.  As such, they can, and should, be discarded in favor of equality because no human is inherently any more valuable or worthy than any other.  By using a black man and a white man to play brothers of different “races,” the production encourages us to conclude that race is a meaningless label and nothing more.

Outside the Project Arts Centre after Blood Knot.
We will return again twice to this space, the leading venue for experimental and new performance in Dublin.