Irish Timeswriters review a selection of events.
The Duke of Hope, Queen's Drama Centre, Belfast
We've all met Mel, propping up the bar, telling tall tales, talking dirty, caught in a dead-end job, lusting over women he hasn't a prayer of attracting, always up for just another pint or three or four. Mel would definitely be prone to the colourful Belfast bar-room expression from which the title of Conor Grimes and Alan McKee's new play is taken - a juke of hope, that optimistic peep around the door of the pub to see if your mates are in.
From this promising starting point, ripe for serious comedy and social comment, Michael Duke's production for Tinderbox turns every which way on itself, introducing elements of parody and puppetry, review and rewind, as it staggers drunkenly towards its final destination.
The crude, laddish conversation is clearly designed to send up the kind of stuff that men, apparently, talk about all the time among themselves, but in quality and impact it does not come near to the surreal, cleverly crafted humour on which the two writers have built their considerable reputation.
Potentially intriguing is the portrayal of Mel as a straight-up, well-intentioned loser, beset by two monkeys of alter-egos constantly perched on his shoulder, preventing him from fulfilling even the most basic human duties. Chris Corrigan, Tony Devlin and Tony Flynn are a well-cast trio, playing easily off Andy Moore's attractive, well-mannered Polish bartender, James Doran's infuriatingly randy Des and Jack Quinn's soft-spoken old George, who is permanently implanted into the bar. In amongst all the macho posturing and agonising self-doubt, Clare Connor struggles to convince in the two-dimensional roles of nagging mother, sultry seductress and friendly female work colleague, who remains impervious to Mel's romantic longings. - Jane Coyle
Until November 3rd, then tours
Did I Make You Up? Project, Space Upstairs, Dublin
Although the lengthy programme notes describe creative points of departure, the place of arrival in Did I Make You Up? is a simple reflection on love that has a sense of timelessness. Contemporary and old-fashioned speak with equal voice as three lonely individuals bask in the glow of idealised love.
The universal weakness for believing the corny lines from pop is indulged - and ultimately empathised with - in lip-synching renditions of classics such as One Moment in Time and Total Eclipse of the Heart. These seem at odds with the unsweetened musical language of Hugh O'Neill, whose impressive score - adapted from Robert Schumann's song cycle Frauenliebe und leben - provided a suitably glacial momentum to the movement. Soprano Deirdre Moynihan was statuesque but soothingly mellow in the twisted melodic lines of the original, while all around her Mercedes Carroll (double bass), Cathal Roche (clarinet and baritone sax), Nelida Bejar (piano) and Keith O'Brien (live electronics) were eager collaborative partners in the action.
But the real strength of the work lies in the dancing. Katherine O'Malley, Thomas Hauser and Stéphane Hisler were outstanding in embodying the knife edge between hope and hopelessness with a crisp but emotionally loaded physicality.
They were helped by Rebecca Walter's choreography - probably her best to date - which was tightly focused in its construction. Restricting herself to a narrow range of movements, she constantly directs the action towards the audience as if the three dancers are desperate to tell us their plight. Within Lian Bell's domestic setting of asymmetrical twine walls and the temperament-changing lighting of Aedín Cosgrove, the dancers disappear into individual corners to mull over their love. Reading a book on babies, dancing alone with a bedroom-sized disco ball, or watching a video of idealised love - their loneliness only finds final release in a climactic succession of duets. There are no happy endings as partners are swapped and each duet keeps repeating back on itself in a holding pattern of despair. It's this self-deluding chase for the ideal that is laid bare in answer to the question, "did I make you up?" - Michael Seaver
Widmann, ICO/Marwood, NCH, Dublin
Haydn - Symphony No 44 "Trauer-Symphonie".
Mozart - Clarinet Concerto.
John Kinsella - Hommage a Clarence. Peteris Vasks - Violin Concerto "Distant Light".
Pairs of works from the 18th century in the first half and from the very late 20th century in the second gave this concert by the Irish Chamber Orchestra an attractive balance. That said, so striking was the common spirit between two of the pieces on either side of the interval, that a different arrangement of pairs could have worked just as well. The emotional intensity of Haydn's Sturm und Drang-era "mourning" symphony really resonated with the air of nostalgic longing and regret that dominates Latvian composer Peteris Vasks's moving 1997 Violin Concerto, "Distant Light". Somehow, Haydn, with his restrained, classical voice, and Vasks, with his direct, almost neo-romantic appeal to the emotions, brought you to the same place. Different paths up the same mountain.
Artistic director and leader Anthony Marwood's lively direction brought the expressivity of the symphony to the border of what might be considered authentic without going over it. Some recurrent horn muffs were the only slight blemish on an otherwise winning performance of this rarely programmed bit of Haydn.
Then, as soloist, Marwood led by example in the Vasks, providing a lead in altogether more open-hearted playing which the strings-only ensemble followed. By the time the piece ended with its curious, fluttering ascent of fading glissandi, a hushed and special atmosphere had been created in the hall.
Jorg Widmann was the soloist in Mozart's much-loved Clarinet Concerto, his performance characterised by a fine, liquid fluidity and nicely tapered phrasing. John Kinsella's warmly affectionate 10-minute Hommage a Clarence from 2000 gave voice to well-taken solos for violin, viola and double bass. Here, as throughout the evening, the ICO ideally combined the intimate intensity of a chamber ensemble with the range and power of an orchestra. - Michael Dungan
