It's A Wrap! The Fab Marquee's coverage of The 1st Irish Festival

While some shows have closed, others are still playing through the month of October. Below is  a compiled direct link to the shows we reviewed in this year's 1st Irish Theatre Festival. To learn more about these shows and the complete festival visit www.firstirish.org.

The Pride of Parnell Street

Tales from Rainwater Pond

A Short Wake

Cell

the good thief

The Selfish Giant

Luck

Blood Guilty

Review- Blood Guilty (1st Irish)

The Fab Marquee review by Diánna Martin.


As the lights come up in Antoine O Flatharta's drama Blood Guilty, we are introduced to Pat (Vincent Dowling) and Dan (Christopher Joseph Jones), whose home life is the stuff reminiscent of the Collier Brothers and Grey Gardens. Time seems to have stopped in the cluttered house. Dan, who appears feeble-minded, but we later find is simply blind, constantly enjoys annoying his other elderly brother, Pat, by constantly switching the radio. The two older men bicker (well, Pat bickers and Dan simply listens as his bickering turns emotionally and psychologically abusive) about the radio and their life. I was actually fascinated by the relationship between the two actors...and felt such sympathy for Dan, who is at his brother's mercy, though we really don't believe that Pat will "send him to the nuthouse"...or do we?

The story begins to move forward a tad when Pat leaves the house on an errand and leaves his blind brother to enjoy the French station on the radio that he seems to be obsessed with; because it is now that he is alone that The Strangers come calling. Tom (Paul Nugent) and John (Aidan Redmond), his older brother, come by offering to sell blankets that they have no doubt stolen. They let themselves into the house, and once seeing that there is nobody but a mentally feeble, elderly blind man there, begin to threaten his life for money as they ransack the house. Much to their chagrin, there is nothing of value, which begins to enrage John, the elder of the two hooligans. Just as one thinks John might actually strangle Dan for fun, Pat walks in and assesses the situation.

And here is where the play ended for me. Let me start by saying that I was delighted to see beautiful work by the two older actors at the beginning of the play; their relationship was one that I bought and I felt for. It held a world of possibility for me; how did it get this way? Why was Pat such a bastard? Was Dan really so feeble or just sick of fighting? And in a theatrical world where the stage is often dominated by young actors, it was refreshing to see two seasoned older gentlemen have their day.

And bringing the two thieves/potential murderers in was an interesting ordeal, for you saw a similar dynamic between both sets of brothers - and I know that that is what the playwright and director Kevin Collins may have been going for; I know that that is what I walked away with.

However, after Pat was able to get a stab in to Tom and wound him, and John does nothing to overpower him, I just did not buy it. I didn't. There was no way, physically or psychologically (as the way John's character was set up) that he would not attack - and 98% be able to overpower Pat. One section is he strangling Dan; the next he is too hysterical to grab a small knife from a man who's obviously not his match in strength or power. Or the fact that he wouldn't just move his brother out of the house, carry him, and take him to get aid. I was completely thrown out of the play. If it came down to him not loving his brother enough and thinking of him as a burden (again, the link between the two sets of brothers), then he should have left him there and let us all go home.

What added salt to this theatrical wound...what truly ruined the play for me, was the lengthy soliloquies that Pat had as Tom was dying. As John stayed and did nothing, really, but listen to this older man rant about this and that - there were points made that would have been moving had there been some basis of reality to ground them on, since this play was established as a drama, not some stylized piece. The days of youth versus the plight of the old, of watching your dreams fade and how Pat came to where he was in life had no interest for me anymore because I no longer believed the play.

The only thing I believed...what kept me holding on...was the beautiful far away look in Dan's eye. Jones had a life going on in his character as he remained silent that was so much more intriguing for me than 98% of the show - I wanted to be where he was, in his mind. And unfortunately, we were not.

A valiant effort, but alas, potential wasted, on what could have been a good show.


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The Bronx Company, Whole in the Wall & First Irish present
Blood Guilty
The Players Loft Theater


This show has now closed. For more information about the festival, visit www.firstirish.org




THe Players Loft Theater | 115 MacDougal Street, 3rd Floor | Manhattan.

Review- Luck (1st Irish)

The Fab Marquee review by Karen Tortora-Lee.


If you're lucky, when you get to 59E59 Theaters to see Luck you'll get to sit at one of the VIP tables up front - they've got the best view, the best table clothes and the best interaction with the star, or "hostess". But that's only if you're lucky. Then again, as Megan Riordan (playwright/performer of Luck) will tell you, "Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity"... and she will further tell you that preparation most often meets opportunity in Las Vegas. At the Blackjack Table. When you're playing on a team.

Ms. Riordan goes by many aliases, one of which is Kim - your Las Vegas hostess for the evening - who gives you a show that is filled with everything that is the hallmark of Vegas: a little secrecy, a little slight of hand, a little razzle, a little dazzle, a little dancing, a little singing, some cards, some roulette, some dice and a whole lotta good luck rituals. As the evening unfolds she cleverly weaves storytelling with performance art and parlor games, using the dice or the cards to determine what she will do next.  (Example: Table 1 has a roulette wheel.  If the ball lands on 1 - 10 Kim will talk about "Can't" - if the ball lands on 11 - 20 she will talk about "Can").   The draw of a high card may tell her to give a definition, a low card will tell her to act out signals.

Ms. Riordan is the daughter of Max Rubin, one of the best blackjack players in Vegas and author of "Comp City" - a book about how to scam the casinos and get free stuff. After all, they've been taking our money for years, right? Everything Kim (and Megan for that matter) learned she learned from the best, and she imparts this knowledge to the audience in quick little gulps, like shots Jameson's Irish Whiskey thrown back, one after the other, glass by glass.  Flashy and glamourous Ms. Riordan is everything a child of Vegas should be - beautiful, tricky, funny, heartbreaking. She moves with lightening speed and shuffles through scenes the way a master card dealer will shuffle that deck; she is polite but empahtic... there's a rhythm to this night and your part in it depends on it going well. She's cleverly putting you on her team.

TEAM: Definition - In order to win in Blackjack - the only way - is to work in a team. And to do so successfully involves aliases, disguises, signals, codes, and escape plans. You have to be willing to take a hit for the team or the spotter can see that the card coming up will get the BP (Big Player or Big Personality) a win. You have to be willing to head to a casino straight from the airport, sit at a blackjack table with your father whom you haven't seen for a year, pretend you don't know him, and sit with him for 14 hours straigt playing cards and talking to him in code. You have to be ready for the fact that the day your dad walks you down the aisle, in fact... RIGHT before he walks you down the aisle, he offers to play you for the envelope your Uncle Jimmy just slipped you with a wink.

Ms. Riordan does a masterful job at portraying all the different angles of this life, illuminating a world that I'm sure few of us have seen, while at the same time giving us a purely stripped down one woman show about how much it can hurt to grow up in a family that is so significantly different than other families. Little tricks like using the security camera as a confessional to her dad is brilliant, the subtext being that this little eye sees all, this is the thing her father is most aware of, so by talking directly into it... maybe he will finally hear her?

Whether amped up or stripped down, Ms. Riordan is a compelling figure who found a way to tell her unique story in a fashion that does it justice. And with so many rolls of the dice and lucks of the draw that determine which scene goes next and which stories are told, the odd of it ever being the same show twice are 1:2 million and change. I'll take those odds.

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Juicy MoMo Productions and 1st Irish Festival present

Luck

September 22-October 11, 2009

59E59 Street Theaters

Tickets $25. To purchase tickets and for more information visit www.firstirish.org.

59E59 Street Theaters | 59 East 59th Street | Manhattan.

Review- The Selfish Giant (1st Irish)

The Fab Marquee review by Karen Tortora-Lee.


Growing up can be rough; it's hard to leave behind all the wonderful, fanciful, joyous things than make up childhood and navigate the more somber realm of adulthood. But if you keep that little child inside you alive, and let them out every now and then to play, you're sure to reap the benefits of giving in to your more whimsical side.

This is not just the theme running through Literally Alive's production of Oscar Wilde's The Selfish Giant adapted by Michael Sgouros & Brenda Bell (Directed by Brenda Bell) but also the attitude that got hold of me as I attended the show.  Because, frankly, it's been a long time since I sat in a theatre and just gave myself over to my inner child, delighting in the tales of a giant, and his garden, of birds that can talk, of weather that can tap dance and of seasons that refuse to change until someone learns their lesson.

What I loved about visiting Literally Alive Children's Theatre is that they began the show with some simple rules that could have been deemed "Everything I know about theatre etiquette I learned in kindergarten".  A wonderful woman explained to the children that there would be loud sounds ... but not to be afraid.  She explained that at home the actors on TV can't hear you when you talk, but in a theatre they can so we have to be what?  "Quiet!" the crowd chirped.  "And we're going to turn the lights out in a moment, and the theatre will get very, very dark.  But don't worry, very soon the lights will come back on in a very surprising way!"  A part of me wished that this woman would come to every one of the productions I attended and remind all the "adults" that talking during a show was rude, not respecting the actors was bad, and not being nice to the people around you by squirming in your seat was disruptive.  Words to live by!

The Selfish Giant is a very simple musical based on an Oscar Wilde story in which a Giant is ... Selfish.  Another reason to love children's theatre - the title isn't misleading or purposely vague like so many others.  All the instruments that play during the performance are percussion - a xylophone, drums, some fun ones that make odd noises and sound effects when they're struck, and they're played by Michael Sgouros (who is the composer and Musical director as well) Emily Sgouros, and Kristin Smith.  The combination of these instruments is surprisingly rich - I thought I'd miss such staples as the piano or the guitar  but the music is so catchy and well performed that it's wonderful exactly as it is.

Eric Fletcher plays the giant (in Gene Simmons towering boots) as well as Oscar Wilde (who serves as a narrator of sorts).  Brianna Hurley plays his faithful servant Martha who for some reason has a thick eastern European accent... but hey, this is children's theatre so there's no need for everyone to sound the same.  Ms. Hurley also plays Sparky, a comical penguin.  Most appealing to children are Stefanie Smith (choreographer) and Dustin Cross who both play a number of characters.  These two team up in several different forms; sometimes as spirits who dance about like giant sized Tinkerbells, sometimes as wisecracking vaudeville type birds Myrtle and Gladys (which children found particularly funny), and sometimes as tap dancing weather (Hailey and Hector).  

With sets partially designed by the children who attend the performance, and personal handshakes to each of the children afterwards, Literally Alive does a great deal to make their little guests feel special... which goes a long way towards making their bigger guests feel special too.  With the freedom to wiggle joyfully to the music and clap loudly, or laugh delightedly, this show was a winner for children of all ages.  With a great message of sharing, and some catchy music, The Selfish Giant will put a smile on your face.

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Literally Alice Children's Theatre and 1st Irish Theatre Festival present

The Selfish Giant

September 13-October 25, 2009

The Players Theatre

Tickets are $25-50. To purchase tickets and for more information, visit www.firstirish.org

The Players Theatre | 115 MacDougal Street | Manhattan.

Review- the good thief (1st Irish)

The Fab Marquee review by David Stallings.

It is always a pleasure to see great scripts brought to life on the stage, especially when it is something so simple and yet so theatrical as a one-man show.  Of course the script, Conner McPherson’s, the good thief, now playing at The Player’s Loft as part of the First Irish Festival’s current line-up, is not new to NYC—but is a refreshing escape from the “pho-edgy” fare presented by other festivals recently in session.  This script is so strong in fact, it hides most of the flaws in Ormond Road Productions current manifestation.

The play is simple, a man in a chair talking to the audience.  The man (Sean Gormley) is a nameless pay for hire thug who “ruffs people up” for a living.  He tells the story of how he set off one day on a routine job that would end with several dead bodies—landing him in prison.  The Irish humor throughout this dark tale keeps the audience laughing in between hideous descriptions of gunshot wounds and murders.  What McPherson does so masterfully is give this thug a heart.  He is not a sociopath—but a product of a poverty-ridden society both rough and uncaring.  After almost each violent segment of the narrative, he goes back to talking about his girl, Greta, with poetic sensitivity.  Greta, the love of his life, is always on this man’s mind—even though she is currently dating his boss and apparently not one for commitment.  Good storytelling with bubbling brutality and soul are the trademarks of McPherson’s plays.  That is why it is so sad that director John Keating does not seem to trust the text or his actor.  Keating fills the narrative with distracting sound cues, underscoring the play with music both jarring and sentimental—ultimately distracting the audience from the powerful words.  These tricks, common in film, do nothing for this story.

Sean Gormley is obviously a talented actor suited to this role.  His dark humor and perfect timing suit McPherson’s writing to a tea.  Unfortunately, there is not much beneath the humor in this manifestation although he comes close to it multiple times.  McPherson artfully has biting moments of pain for his character that are told through the guise of humor.  Gormley—though fierce and dark—does not bring the necessary guilt and pathos to the role—ultimately only trusting in the comedy to save him.  Gormely of course is not aided by the fact that every time his character reaches one of these painful realizations, sappy music begins to play. 

Flaws aside, it is still refreshing to see a text of this caliber on the stage.  Audiences should definitely take the hour to go hear such a marvelous play aloud.

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Ormond Road Productions and 1st Irish Festival

the good thief

September 10th-October 4th, 2009

The Players Loft

For more information and to purchase tickets, visit www.firstirish.org.

The Players Loft | 115 MacDougal Street, 3rd Floor | Manhattan.

Review- Cell (1st Irish)

The Fab Marquee review by Karen Tortora-Lee.

"I hear you sit right on the stage with the actors," one woman said to those of us gathered in the Gene Frankel lobby, waiting to take our seats for Paula Meehan's Cell. "You just sit right there in the prison cell like you're part of the show." A man, leaned over and said to me "Prison? I thought this show was going to be about phones". "Really?" I replied, "I thought it was going to be about molecular biology." Cell, however, set in a women's prison in Dublin and populated with the disenfranchised women of Ireland is quite different.

Upon entering the theatre we were all a bit put off at how extremely close the chairs were set up to the performance area - lined up right across from the cell's makeshift table, and next to the spartan prison beds.  The more timid among us chose seats in the back row, but even then we were close enough to see the careful details of Lilia Trenkova's set design.  It's very clever putting the audience, as much as possible, inside the cell, because it's uncomfortable, and scary and a bit claustrophobic.  It makes you want to get away, it makes you feel exposed and devoid of privacy. You're made to feel as if you're serving your sentence right along with these women, and when that cell door slammed shut you knew which side you were on.  

When we first meet the women in the cell it's early morning, frigidly cold, and already hopeless.  There's no soothing daylight to gently awaken these inhabitants.  Rather, Martha (played by Laoisa Sexton) and Lila (Laura Knight Keating) are jarred awake by their fellow inmate, "Delo" short for Delores (Aedin Moloney) who is obviously the boss of this little trio and mad as hell that one of her rules (something about a bucket, something about cycles, I'll let you fill in the rest) has been broken.  She monitors and delegates every detail of the cell (who does what, when they do it, and how) with an engineer's precision and fiercely guards her power with a hard line of intimidation.  She's the boss, and she rules not just with an iron fist, but with a crazy flurry of rage that tornadoes its way around the small space in uncontrolled and unpredictable bursts.  When Hurricane Delo calms down her cellmates react like grateful animals; yet cower distrustfully at her demeanor knowing another powerful storm is just moments away.  If HBO's OZ had been set in a woman's prison in Dublin there wouldn't have been a man left alive after Delo Roche got done with them.  As it stands, it's hard enough to keep the women alive.

Playwright Paula Meehan spares no gritty detail of reality, and director John Keating is right there with her: there is graphic sex, painful abuse of the verbal and physical variety, visible effects of drugs (both the pitiful vacant blankness of too much as well as the doubled over crippling pain of too little) and crudely descriptive language. In Delo she has given us less of a character than an element; this hard, angry woman acts as a force, at times like the pull of gravity around which everything revolves, but at times more like the pull of a black hole -- she'll take all you have and she'll demand more.  And when she's done with you... there's nothing left.

Through conversations we find that there was another cellmate, Annie, who went through a cycle of abuse with Delo that lead to her suicide with just three months left on her sentence.  At the top of the show Lila is well on her way to following Annie into this pit of despair.  Martha and Lila may be criminals, but they're no match for the likes of Delo who, at times, seems to find this all a game... something to do while she counts down the hours, swatting at lives the way others swat at flies to see who will break into the most pieces.

Into this mix comes Alice Kane, a murderer (Katherine O'Sullivan).  Before she's brought into the cell there's speculation at how tough she will be, having killed someone and all, but when a sweet older woman comes into their cell the group is taken aback.  Not knowing quite what to make of her each woman tries to figure out how this new dynamic will change life for them.  Unfortunately, despite her willingness to become a mother figure to the girls and take on Delo, she's found herself in a scenario that will just keep cycling.  Ultimately, it all ends they way it began - in a tragically sad prison cell.

Each one of the actresses in Cell is absolutely brilliant, taking on a different role and tone that keeps this little world in balance.  Laura Knight Keating's Lila is movingly haunting as the weakest of the cellmates; we can feel each wave of pain as she's wracked with symptoms of withdrawal.  Laoisa Sexton's Martha is a bit more feisty and playful, as much as she can be... she hasn't yet been defeated by Delo and still has something to look forward to.  Sexton has perhaps the biggest challenge - going from someone able to cope to someone then thrown into complete despair.  Katherine O'Sullivan's Alice has just the right melding of sweet-old-lady-on-a-trumped-up-charge and crazy-old-bat-who-killed-her-neighbor.  She plays it just delicately enough that you're left guessing the whole time as to what you should believe about this knife-wielding, blanket knitting grandma.  But without a doubt, it is Aedin Moloney who is completely fascinating as Delo.  Her performance is gripping and her energy will have you watching her even when she's not speaking.  

Luckily you don't have to commit a crime to be sent to this Cell; it runs through the 20th so catch it before its sentence is up.

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Fallen Angel Theatre Company and 1st Irish Theatre Festival present

Cell

Sept 8-20, 2009

The Gene Frankel Theatre

For tickets and more information, visit www.firstirish.org

The Gene Frankel Theatre | 24 Bond Street | Manhattan.

Review- A Short Wake (1st Irish)

The Fab Marquee review by Diánna Martin.

Family dysfunction comes in all shapes and sizes, from all cultures. However, something can be definitely be said for the type of relationships that are cultivated in an Irish-American household that includes drinking and physical abuse. Siblings can either stick together to keep secrets or escape to other sides of the country - or the world - as they struggle to get away from their past (and each other)... although we all know that our pasts never leave us, they just have a way of sticking to us, like gum on the bottom of our shoes; or, in some cases, can be re-routed into positive outlets such as the arts.

A Short Wake, by Derek Murphy, a Dubliner, brings us into the funeral parlor for the wake of the father of Teddy (Peter Bradbury) and Jimmy (Brandon Williams). The main centerpiece of the set is a huge casket and a few chairs - perfect, really. Held in New York, the wake is a rather pitiful affair - both sons make note of the lack of anyone coming to mourn the man in the coffin and the flower arrangements looking a bit tired. Murphy's continuous hilarious dialogue allows Bradbury, even alone, to flourish as the two-bit con in a nice suit (and greasy hair), following in his bookie father's footsteps, having moments between cracking jokes to quiet his own sadness and unease as well as conflicting feelings of the final weeks of the father's cancer as he stood by his bedside. Conflicted because dear ol' dad actually thought it was the younger brother, Jimmy, the whole time, holding his hand - Jimmy, who has not been around in ten years and hates his father with a fiery passion.

As Bradbury sips from his flask and clutches his stomach from acid reflux, we see Williams finally enter, reluctantly, into the parlour. A successful lawyer in California - as far away from New York as he can get without leaving the country - Jimmy emanates a powerful wave of tension from the moment he enters the room. He can't even get past the first few chairs in the parlour, and it's Bradbury who is making all the effort to try to get a hug and pull him into the room - to try to find a common ground and a way to get past their years of dealing with abusive parents and be brothers again.

But it's not so easy. Jimmy can't understand why Teddy is even in mourning for the man that he considers to be a horrible father, human being, and abusive alcoholic; and Teddy can't understand why Jimmy can't let it go now that the man is dead - and why his younger brother's selective memory seems to have forgotten some important points about what their mother was really like as well; her alcoholism, her abusive behavior, and what really went on during one particular night that changed all of their lives forever.

And so we have a brilliantly written and acted two-character play that is really a four-character play; because the man in the coffin and the woman that we learn more about as the play goes on become as important as the two brothers on stage who, as they sip their whiskey and gin, begin to open up to each other more and more. Is this about a couple of drunk Irishmen going over old times? NO. This is a play about family, about how memories can be completely different depending on who is telling the story, and how 30-year-old grudges can become mantras for no reason other than they exist.

Bradbury had me from the beginning. From his New York bookie attitude combined with his actual pain about his father - and the hilarious monologue he has before Williams comes on, I was delightfully absorbed. When Williams first entered, and for the first fifteen minutes after his entrance, I thought the actor had some tics and was holding onto his prep to the point where it was interfering with his relating to his brother, and his ability to take in this brother he hadn't seen in 10 years (even though we know our siblings and sometimes have to only glance at them even after that long). His anger was so consuming that it almost became a fifth character in the room. But as they began to talk more, and as he accepted his brother's gift of fine whiskey in a flask, I began to see some of the prep drop, and just see a character who was in tremendous emotional pain dealing with his smart-ass brother, and vice-versa; and once he got cooking with Bradbury, then the show took off, I felt, for him and for me. Both actors should be applauded for holding this critic in the palm of their hand, simply following along as the two wove tales tall and true about their lives and loves and their relationship with each other - and the pain they were trying to get past.

Combine truly gifted actors, with fantastic direction from Ludovica Villar-Hauser and this amazing rich, darkly comedic dialogue, and you are left afterwards simply wanting to see it again. I thought the staging was great (I never saw the director's hand, and so it goes in a well-directed piece); however, one thing I would have tried was to not open the casket so that we saw the figure inside. To open it upstage would have been better, I think; for although the acting was so good that it kept my mind off of what was in that coffin, I still kept having to block it out, especially when I had a view, it took me out of the play momentarily.

It's my understanding that many, if not all, of the 21 plays in this festival are of high caliber; however, if you see any of them, please add A Short Wake to your list. Anyone who has ever had difficulty talking to a family member, and anyone who has ever wondered what it was like (are there families like that out there?) will be taken on an emotional roller-coaster, with laughter filling in the spots where it sometimes hits too close to the bone. 



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1st Irish 2009 and Tweiss Productions present
A Short Wake
Sept 10-26, 2009
Manhattan Theatre Source


For more information and tickets, visit www.firstirish.org.


Manhattan Theatre Source | 177 MacDougal Street | Manhattan.

Review- Tales from Rainwater Pond (1st Irish)

The Fab Marquee review by Peyton Wise.

When Americans think of Ireland, amidst the clutter of misty green fields, vaguely Celtic druids and freedom fighters, one image seems eternal: an older man telling a wistful story in a lilting voice.  Tales From Rainwater Pond at 1^st Irish is a radiant embodiment of that image.  1^st Irish, a festival of Irish theatre currently playing twelve venues throughout the city, has a wide range of styles and theatre companies, based both in America and in Ireland.  Wexford Arts Center, the presenter ofTales From Rainwater Pond, feels like an Irish cross between BAM and a regional theatre, presenting outside productions as well as self-produced plays, along with a wide range of music, cabaret, visual arts and an elegant café. 

Tales From Rainwater Pond is written and performed by Billy Roche, a playwright and novelist whose work often centers on his hometown of Wexford, a coastal community of just under 20,000.  Actually, what is presented at 1^st Irish is Mr. Roche performing two short stories, “Maggie Angre” and “Haberdashery” from a book of short stories by the same name.  And what stories they are. 

Mr. Roche has the rare gift of richness of detail without superfluity of emotion.  His brief hints at the grief of a father or the burden of a long-burning love are stunning because we are given merely a suggestion and the foundation to fill in the rest.  While the stories are uniquely small-town Irish, the humor and loss they describe are universally human.  There is something that happens during this show that is quite larger than its individual pieces.

Although an actor of some experience, Mr. Roche has the slow delivery and wry amusement of a writer reading his own work.  At the beginning of the piece, there seems to be a firm fourth wall despite the direct address, although that breaks down by the end of the show.  While Mr. Roche occasionally enacts an action in the first story and portrays the narrator of the second story, there seems to be no reason why this should be a play as well as a book.  However, Mr. Roche and the production possess some ineffable magic of storytelling that makes the stories breathe in a way no reading could.  The simple act of one man telling an intricate story of lonely people he cared about became a community meditation.

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Wexford Arts Center and 1st Irish 2009 present

Tales from Rainwater Pond

Sept 3-13, 2009

Irish Repertory Theatre

This show has now closed. For more information on 1st Irish, visit www.firstirish.org

Irish Repertory Theatre | 132 West 22nd St | Manhattan.

Review- The Pride of Parnell Street (1st Irish 2009)

The Fab Marquee review by Karen Tortora-Lee.

It isn't always the big tragedies that can destroy a marriage, sometimes it's the small heartbreaks that can fracture a man's spirit and set off a domino effect that leaves a marriage in shambles. Welcome to Parnell Street, Dublin, where jobs are of the odd variety, entertainment comes in the form of pints of ale, love starts young and tragedy even younger. Welcome to people who find their redemption or their ruin in a game of football (or, of course, what the rest of the world calls Football... and what the Americans call Soccer).

The Pride of Parnell Street by Sebastian Barry (directed by Jim Culleton) starts off softly, with Janet Brady (the hauntingly earnest Mary Murray) waxing dreamily about "In them days..." back in 1990 when her marriage was new and her boys were little; when her husband Joe (played by Aidan Kelly with the sadness of a man who lost everything but still remembers how happy his everything once made him) was what they called a Midday Man. Which is to say he was nothing more than a simple crook, waking at midday and robbing small items from cars in the street, then selling what he found to the Afternoon Man. Sure, it sounds a little sketchy and even a little dodgy, but to hear Janet tell of it, it's almost noble.

Tragedy strikes when their oldest of three sons, little six year old Billy, is run over by a truck and killed. And here, where another family might break apart, or tear each other to pieces, laying blame or finding fault, all that happens is they mourn and move on, secure in their relationship and in their love.

Perhaps in a delayed reaction, however, when Ireland loses the World Cup to Italy that year Joe loses his mind; they all did... "When the Irish team lost, the lads suddenly knew what was what. When the Irish team were winning they could pretend they were winning, but when they lost, they knew they were losers too -- had never been winners in the first place." Joe comes home and in the early sunlight of daybreak he beats Janet, blind with a sort of rage that had never been a part of his nature before, and breaks something deep inside her... something more precious than blood vessels or bones. He breaks her trust in him. He breaks her heart.

From that moment on, Janet's life and Joe's life never connect again, though on some sub cellular level there's no breaking them apart. Even the fact that Joe is dying (something that's both obvious from his demeanor, dress and countenance, as well as something he addresses almost the minute we meet him) can not create enough of a chasm to keep their bond from stretching over the years, although even the fact that he is dying can't absolve him of his worst sin. Not in Janet's eyes. Not in his own. "I wrote a hundred times... and said a hundred times I loved her and I was sorry... but you know, a hundred letters can't wipe out a sin... but also even the worst sin can't wipe out a love..."

The story of Janet and Joe, of Parnell Street, of pride - Irish pride, family pride, too much pride to stay, too much pride to beg - is told in contrasting and sequential monologues. As Janet and Joe trade off their 20 minutes their time with the audience grows more personal, more honest, deeper, more tragic. Sunny moments are sprinkled among the sadness in rare bursts; both Janet and Joe never stop loving each other, they never stop idealizing the "good old days" but neither of them look away from what circumstances brought them to the present day.

Sebastian Barry's writing is so honest, so intimate, that there are moments when Janet could be talking to her priest, or her psychiatrist (if they had enough money to afford one). Just because they are simple people with simple ways doesn't mean their emotions are simple. Barry layers in the heart and soul of the characters in the smallest ways; Janet recalling a moment when Joe used to wheel his young son along singing Thin Lizzie songs, or when Joe talks about how patient he was when Janet was overwhelmed and frustrated when she didn't understand how to breastfeed her firstborn. It's these little glimpses, these memories, that flesh out Janet and Joe till we see them from the inside out.

Keeping the two characters apart from each other, yet always talking about each other, creates an affinity between Janet and Joe that runs deeper than if they'd spent the whole play talking directly to each other.

The Pride of Parnell Street's two stars, Mary Murray and Aidan Kelly, are so invested in their characters, and so brave in their honesty that they can take you from laughter to tears in a very short span of time. They both gave dignity and even breeding to two very regular Dubliners who probably represent a thousand others just like them. On the surface, there's nothing spectacular about either of them. And told second hand he's a petty thief who beats his wife, turns to drugs, and now lays dying, while she's a single mother of two scrubbing out rooms to keep her boys in school. Very ordinary. But scratch that surface, and sit face to face, and there is no doubt who or what the Pride of Parnell Street is.

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1st Irish 2009 and fishamble present
The Pride of Parnell Street
Sept 1- Oct 4, 2009
59E59 Theaters

For tickets, schedule and more information on the 1st Irish Festival, visit www.firstirish.org

59E59 Theaters | 59 East 59th St | Manhattan.