It is as if, in his latest play, Chris Lee was trying to draw some kind of sociological map of the human condition of depression. His author's empathy throughout is with all that is negative in what he sees as a fragmented contemporary human society. But there is no authorial evidence of sympathy (in that word's sense of pity) with the characters he has created to convey his cerebral message. One can listen to his words with attention. One can admire the quality of the individual performances of all the actors who convey those words, and the theatricality invested by Brian Brady in his direction of the whole in Paul McCauley's ingenious settings and Paul Keogan's admirable lighting. But it is difficult to engage emotionally with the evening's traffic upon the stage.
Young Jason hangs himself (for a variety of rationalised reasons which would ring true only to someone in a state of severe depression). His parents seem almost indifferent to the event: the father, Henry, is a self-appointed therapist for insomnia, and the mother, Morag, is a cartographer bent on her own map-making career. Jason's only friend appears to be the prostitute Jess who seems likely to be despatched to join Jason in death by one of her more sadistically violent clients.
Most of them, from time to time, are shadowed by a female figure - Death herself - who also embraces Henry's only "patient", Lucien (an unlikely insomniac politician driven to death by Henry's excessive and improbable treatments). All are mere cyphers for the negative comments which Lee is laboriously making on contemporary society. It's not that we want to disagree with many of those comments, but there are more effectively theatrical and dramatic ways available to persuade us of their veracity than those chosen here. It's more like watching an illustrated lecture than getting immersed in a live drama about the human condition.
Kevin Lennon is the angrily uncomprehending Jason, Ingrid Craigie his bemused mother and Chris McHallem his alcoholically befuddled father. Neili Conroy is the hapless Jess and Andrew Bennett the foolish sleepless politician, while Catherine Mack is the surprisingly bland Death. They have little opportunity to interact with each other, given the burden of symbolism each must bear within the author's construct, and only in stray moments are they given the chance to communicate emotionally with their audience. But all act their parts very well, albeit with little ultimate dramatic effect. We watch, we admire, but we are not emotionally engaged.
Runs until November 6th. To book phone 01-8787222
