Irish Timescritics review The Merchant of Veniceat the Half Moon Theatre, Mary Gauthierat
Crawdaddy, Sleeping Beautyat the Waterfront Hall Studio and  Jack and the Beanstalkat the Everyman Palace,  

The Merchant of Venice
Half Moon Theatre, Cork

A Portia with a chest like a Bactrian camel, a doubly incontinent Lorenzo, and a five-in-a-bed romp which prompts some wonderment at what is considered acceptable in a production aimed at young teenagers, are among the devices relied on by Cyclone Theatre to take the harm out of The Merchant of Venice. The idea is to make Shakespeare pupil-friendly, and with last year's presentation of Romeo and Juliet in a similar style, the company managed to sustain what was important in the play.

In this case, however, Cyclone's approach to the story of the Christian merchant in bondage to the Jewish usurer can't justify the proposition that classic material can be mined for its comic potential without any damage to its core. Instead, the adaptation by director Peadar Donohoe gives Shakespeare as pantomime, and a confused pantomime at that. For example, the exaggerations of Cyclone's interpretation of the merchant Antonio's affection for Bassanio invite the schoolboys and girls to disapprove of Antonio because he's such an anti-Semite, and to mock him because he's gay.

This and other contradictions diminish the original (but not irretrievably) and deflate what could be called the burlesque edition. It's a pity, because there is a lot of fun in the production and some originality in the settings and props. A very competent cast of five play 17 different roles while also creating identities for themselves as a troupe of Italian strolling players. The power of a few crucial exchanges survives, but it is disappointing to see what begins as a comic take descend into farce and then slide the whole way down to slapstick.

All one can hope for is that Cyclone will keep away from Julius Caesar and all those togas.

Ends tonight

Mary Leland

Mary Gauthier
Crawdaddy, Dublin

She's a slow burner, a tiny spark that gradually, imperceptibly, lights up the darkest corners of the room. Mary Gauthier plies her trade with grit and muted vigour, slowly drawing the listener into her world of prison searches, 21st-century hobos who twin their campfire terrestrial ramblings with their fair share of online meanderings (piggybacking, of course, on someone else's wireless connection) and "miserable holiday songs" with which, she cannily notes, she's cornered the market.

After a slow-motion start, when Gauthier's drawl basked in her dirge-like momentum, we trudged through the darkness of Christmas in Paradise and For Rose, the insistence of Gauthier's leaden pacing seducing many but leaving some of us gasping for a little light. Seamlessly though, she settled into a venue ideally suited to her belly-deep intimacy and breathed just a little deeper, opening up her songbook to the luminous intensity of The Last of the Hobos and Sideshow (the latter replete with a witty account of her virginal experience of what she calls the "Nashville co-write", when a Reese Witherspoon type attempted to buff her rough edges, with spectacular failure).

Gauthier's gift for communication, the kind that comes from hard-won experience rather than from the pen of a PR company, won her the confidence of her audience with each successive song. Her straight-arrow lyrics and road-weary voice imbue her music with the same kind of credibility commanded by Gillian Welch, who shares with Gauthier the formative experience of adoption and a life less ordinary.

Of course, she treated us generously to the vicissitudes of I Drink and the sublimely forgiving Mercy, as well as to the celebratory but funereal Wheel Inside the Wheel, but deep down, what Gauthier trades in is the sharp insight that relishes the colour in the notion of death as simply "catching the westbound", or the folly of trusting the authority of one's senses in I Don't Trust My Eyes. Doubt and confusion at their spellbinding best; ripe for these doubt-filled, confusing times.

Siobhán Long

Sleeping Beauty
Waterfront Hall Studio, Belfast

It's billed as the loudest panto in town. It is also the slickest, sharpest and funniest. Simon Magill's Sleeping Beauty is absolutely in tune with young schoolchildren, their teenage brothers and sisters and their grown-up companions, none of whom could fail to fall under the spell of Dan Gordon's acidic Nanny McGee and her motley band of friends and foes.

Gordon strikes up an instant rapport with the audience, getting them all on his side as he sets out to become the biggest fairy of them all. His tartan-skirted, sharp-tongued dame sets the tone for a traditional pantomime with a thoroughly modern feel.

Liz Keller's original score is witty and catchy, and Janet-Anne Phillips's sprightly choreography is performed with tremendous verve by an excellent cast. Tara Lynne O'Neill, Christina Nelson and Bronagh Taggart frolic and caper as three assorted good fairies; Emma Little and Bernadette Brown act their stripy socks off as the evil Vomitoria and her croaking cohort, Jo the Crow; Chris Robinson emerges from his Tardis as the nutty professor, Dr Watt; Glen Wallace is a preposterously dashing Captain Jack; and Annemarie Gaillard is a real find in the usually thankless goody-goody role of Princess Aurora.

Stuart Marshall's colourful picture-book set offers plenty of hidey-holes and vantage points, while the Studio's split levels provide the perfect obstacle course for a madcap chase sequence which has all and sundry yelling their little heads off.

Runs until Jan 12
Jane Coyle

Jack and the Beanstalk
Everyman Palace, Cork

Breezy, bright, brash and rude in all the right places (more or less), the Everyman's Jack and the Beanstalk is offered with a freshness which belies the current programme of two performances a day. Although the script omits necessary initial references which might make some sense of this age-old plot before the giant - an engaging vegetarian rap artist in black face - actually thuds on to the stage, and although his golden harp and his goose (which lays the golden eggs) arrive as unwieldy adjuncts to the action, much can be forgiven a story which gives all the best lines to the cow. And if Fionnula Linehan makes a meal of the role, at least she makes a gourmet meal of it.

The overpowering amplification occasionally defeats her, as it does the band of skilled instrumentalists led by Dave Murphy, and there are times when the stage is thronged with youngsters whose accomplishments don't match their enthusiasm. Costumes by Pat Mahon make up for this, and the set design by Lisa Zagone gives a decorative perspective to the stage, with painted frames and sparkling trees.

The sparkle is also seen in the generosity and gusto of all the cast, not least Shane Morgan as Jack, Laura Mitchell as a plausible Good Fairy, Lisa McCaffrey as the princess and Eoin Hally as the wicked wizard.

Directed by Catherine Mahon-Buckley, this is a production where push always comes to shove, with a surprising amount of hitting and kicking. Sometimes characters have too much to say and the presentation lasts a little too long despite the good choral work, but Kevin Power's script includes the wildly popular scenario in which the juvenile Jack is courted by the spellbound princess - the reaction of all the little misogynists in the audience is a diversion in itself.

Runs until Jan 13

Mary Leland