What is the problem which still persists between the Irish theatre - actors and audiences - and Shakespeare? The question is prompted by two recent experiences. The first was seeing Conal Morrison's richly inventive and humane production of The Tempest at the Abbey.
The critical reaction to the production has been, at best, respectful. On the opening night, there was no sign of the rapturous standing ovation which I have so often seen given to far inferior productions of Irish plays at the Abbey.
The word of mouth, at least in my experience, has been begrudging. One of our leading theatrical figures told me he hadn't bothered to see the play because he'd heard from so many people that it was "a load of shite".
Let me burn my boats without further delay. I've already seen the production twice and fully intend to visit the Abbey for a third helping in the early days of the new year.
I'll return to the subject of The Tempest later. But this reaction interests me for another reason.
During the Dublin Theatre Festival earlier this year, I was privileged to chair a discussion between the theatre directors Garry Hynes and Deborah Warner. A member of the audience asked why we saw so little Shakespeare on the Dublin stage.
Ms Warner said she believed there was a reluctance on the part of Irish actors to play the great roles. She knew that the late, hugely talented Donal McCann had been begged by several companies, in Britain as well as Ireland, to do King Lear. He always refused.
Ms Hynes added that when she was artistic director at the Abbey she had asked some of our leading actors to play Shakespeare. The reply was always the same: "Thanks, but no thanks."
When I asked what reason they gave, Ms Hynes said that there was a general feeling of "why should we bother with Shakespeare?"
This is roughly comparable to a classical musician deciding to ignore Mozart. It makes no sense. Ergo, there must be another reason for their refusal. Is it simply that actors are intimidated by the challenge of speaking Shakespeare's verse, breathing new life into lines which have become part of our collective memory?
Yet Irish actors have played Shakespeare with great success on the British stage. Look at Fiona Shaw and Michael Gambon, to mention two of our most recent emigrants.
Besides, the point of Shakespeare is not alone to speak the verse. Edmund Kean and Laurence Olivier were both criticised for neglecting "the music" of Shakespeare. What they did was to bring the terror and the pity of his characters alive on the stage.
There are other reasons why our theatres may have shied away from Shakespeare. His plays cost a great deal to put on. The Abbey board is to be commended for devoting the resources necessary for The Tempest's sumptuous designs and large cast.
However, it isn't just a question of money. Can it be, as one member of the audience at the Hynes/Warner conversation suggested, that the real objection to performing Shakespeare on the Irish stage has been that he is a "Brit", part of the despised baggage of our colonial past?
One can see that the "history plays", with their Churchillian jingoism, would have been unwelcome on the Abbey stage, though this may change with the changed relationship between these islands.
However, that does not explain why Lear, Hamlet, Coriolanus and Antony and Cleopatra, not to mention the life-enhancing delight of the comedies, have been almost entirely absent from our theatre.
I'm aware that most readers of this column associate me with analysing the progress, or lack of progress, in the peace process. Bear with me while I explain why I feel so strongly on this issue. Before I became involved in Northern Ireland, I wrote regularly on the arts, mainly the theatre. I was lucky to see productions of Shakespeare's plays which remain vivid in my memory after 20 or 30 years, and from which I still derive comfort when the going gets rough.
They include the piteous desolation of Paul Scofield's Lear; Peter Brook's magical production of A Midsummer Night's Dream; the Berliner Ensemble's titanic study of hubris in Coriolanus; Olivier's Othello. This was condemned as politically incorrect at the time because the great actor "blacked up" for the role, but what I remember is an electrifying portrait of sexual jealousy and despair.
These productions were not flawless. Shakespeare rarely is. I make the point because Morrison's direction of The Tempest does have its longueurs. But there is much in it to treasure.
I will remember Olwen Fouere's passionate Ariel; the beautiful innocence of the young lovers (Michael Colgan as Ferdinand and Dawn Bradfield as Miranda); Lloyd Hutchinson's jauntily defiant Caliban.
The comic scenes are as brilliantly timed and performed by Donal O'Kelly and Mikel Murfi as anything I have seen in the theatre.
The second time I saw this production was at a gala evening to bid farewell to Patrick Mason after six years as artistic director at the Abbey. During his tenure Mason has, quite rightly, been determined to put Irish drama at the heart of the repertory. He has revived old plays and brought us new works by Brian Friel, Frank McGuinness, Tom Murphy and others.
However, it is a no less important part of his legacy that he has made the Abbey less introverted, more able to recognise that there is a whole world of drama out there on which to draw.
Kenneth Tynan once said that the importance of great plays was that "they are more than diversions. They relate to us and speak, at their finest, to our whole souls, convincing us that what is happening on stage, however far removed from us in time or geography, is not different in kind from what is happening in our hearts and habitual lives."
This production of The Tempest meets that challenge. Celebrate the new millennium in a fitting fashion by seeing it.