Irish Times journalists look at what is being staged in the Dublin Theatre Festival
Small metal objects
Mayor Square, IFSC
"I want people to see me," says Steve. "I want to feel like a full human being." That his words come during the archly involving and deftly moving small metal objects, a show that conspires to keep him concealed from view (for the longest stretch imaginable) in the lunchtime bustle of the IFSC, raises questions about visibility and value in a world of conspicuous consumption.
We could call this performance a piece of street theatre, without serious contradiction, partly because it has a guerrilla approach of planting its action, unnoticed, in a public space - but mainly because it makes that space seem as elegant and considered as a stage. Given that this space is the IFSC, which could not look more impermanent if its buildings were inflatable, that's no small achievement.
But if there is a voyeuristic frisson in this arrangement, where you spend at least half the time shamelessly watching passers-by, there is a satisfying feeling that the audience itself is also a public spectacle, sitting in a temporary auditorium, plugged into headphones, which relay the devised dialogue over Hugh Covil's atmospheric sound design, while receiving myriad double-takes and bemused stares from loitering students and transiting financiers.
The brilliance of director Bruce Gladwin's deceptively simple piece for Back to Back Theatre is that this context actually reinforces, rather than distracts from, the play. Within an almost Beckettian situation of gently absurd dialogue and comfortable silences, Gary (Sonia Teuben) and Steve (Simon Laherty) pass the time discussing roast chicken, relationships, fear, and that old Australian staple, mateship. They could be straight out of Waiting for Godot - had Beckett's tramps also been drug dealers.
When Steve has a "metaphysical meltdown", a deal sours with a narcotic-needy legal executive (Jim Russell) and, later, his hectoring superior, a drippingly insincere corporate psychologist (Genevieve Picot). Gary's refusal to budge, to capitulate, to deal with the couple, underscores the lingering and affecting paradox of this riveting show.
Gary and Steve may seem otherworldly, but not for their stillness amid freneticism, or for the fact that they are played by two actors with intellectual disabilities, but rather because, in a world where everything has its market value, their friendship proves non-negotiable.
Until Fri
Peter Crawley
Private Peaceful
The Ark
Tommo Peaceful, an exuberant, sweetly passionate and lovelorn 16-year-old Devon lad, goes into town one day on an errand for his employer, a local farmer, and meets his fate: scarlet-coated soldiers, a brass band and a persuasive recruitment sergeant.
It is 1916, and within this bloody and sorrowful year Tommo would meet his death. Courtmartialled for cowardice, the boy would die by a dawn firing squad for refusing to obey an order that would have meant certain and futile death, and for refusing to leave his dying brother on the battle field.
Based on the award-winning book of the same name by the third British children's laureate, Michael Morpurgo, this was a heartbreaking tale convincingly and beautifully rendered by Scamp Theatre, in association with Bristol Old Vic, and featured a physically dynamic and moving solo performance from Alexander Campbell as the eponymous Peaceful.
The Ark's young audience (the play is correctly recommended for nine-year-olds and upwards) appeared wholly engaged for the 75 minutes of this emotionally demanding show - one that, refreshingly, did not spoon-feed its viewers or sweeten its intent.
A lively adaptation by the show's director, Simon Reade, enabled Morpurgo's lyricism and delicacy to shine through, while never allowing the story to loosen its grip, or Campbell's immense energy to slacken. The haunting descriptions of sodden, rat-infested trenches, of body lice and corrosive gases, of corpses flailed by wire and the bitter, casual cruelties of the young recruits' superiors, seemed to pull its young audience in by their trainer laces. And, as the desperate futility of the Great War pounded down like relentless rain on a pitted field in France, one felt The Ark and her cargo of young minds lifted in a rising tide of understanding and empathy. This solidly intelligent, decisive, and slickly uncompromising piece of work is just what a young theatre audience needs and deserves. The only disappointment is that the show ran for a mere two performances.
Hilary Fannin
