Sweeney’s, Dublin
Just how complicated can one dinner party become? Let’s allow George (Lisa Byrne), the secretly pregnant daughter by one of two potential fathers (Grodon Mahn and Shane Fallon), whose parents (Peter O’Byrne and Sharon Coade) are secretly planning to divorce, and whose sexually ambiguous brother, Tim (Chris Gallagher), is secretly besotted with his Tuba teacher (Annie Gill), to explain some of the guest list.
“Dad thought Peter was my boyfriend, Mum and Tim thought Gary was my boyfriend, Dad thought Gary was Tim’s boyfriend, Mum thought Peter was Tim’s boyfriend, and Gary and Peter both thought each other was Tim’s boyfriend . . . Is that right?”
Actually, it’s not quite that simple, and only one of a number of sublime misunderstandings. But the genius of Mark Cantan’s deliciously funny and brain-teasingly intricate new play is that this comedy of confusion never becomes confusing.
At its simplest, The Get Togetheris about one family's abject failure to communicate. Beginning with a chorus of missed connections ("Hah?" "Hm?" "Wha?") it threads those distractions into its form (a briskly interweaving multi-character monologue play) and creates an effervescent symphony of cross-purposes: nobody here is talking to each other. At a push, it's Faith Healer meets an Alan Ayckbourn farce.
This could be a coldly clever exercise, but amiable characterisation, good jokes and witty one-liners embellish what is an almost mathematical pleasure: characters following an algorithm of perfectly suspended misunderstandings. Emotional truth doesn’t rank highly in this equation: the plot and motivations are as suspiciously exact as an airtight alibi.
But Cantan adds the bite of social satire where the liberal middle classes strain against anything as honest as a direct question or making a scene.
“We tried to placate her without actually agreeing with anything she said,” the hilariously geeky Gary (Shane Fallon) says of the family’s grandmother (Ann Russell), a ludicrous racist.
Staged as a work in development, The Get Together's first performance took place on the first day of rehearsals with a ticket price of €1. It escalated each day by a euro, which counts either as a curious validation of the rehearsal process or a worrying case of hyperinflation. I paid two visits and, while performances grew in confidence, it was hard to imagine the play off these bar stools and on a stage. "It's actually quite difficult to keep it all in your head," says one character. But that's not true of the audience's experience and, for the moment, that is where this joyously considered comedy remains.
