by Clare Cooney
Dark, devastating, and bitterly funny, Wayne Jordan’s fresh take on Seán O'Casey’s The Plough and The Stars left audiences haunted by the painful echoes of the past. The first two acts of the play take place before the Easter Rising, when hope was in the Irishman’s heart, courage was in his step, and Patrick Pearse’s voice was in his ear. The final two acts are set during The Rising, when the reality and heartbreak of war came crashing down on every man and woman. In its time, this was a play that confronted traditional ideas of nationalism, sparked passion (both good and bad) in the audience, and revealed an honest depiction of the brutal tenements in working class Dublin.
Through the years, The Plough and the Stars has evolved into a slightly different show. At the surface level, Jordan’s physical presentation of the show shattered old expectations and challenged audiences to embrace a new form of theatre. Influenced by the minimalist stage movement, the set design sacrificed walls and windows, but peppered the deconstructed set with homey props like a teakettle and deck of cards. Stripping away the walls, Jordan hung black-and-white photographs of the tenements on thin cloths. Besides providing a dramatic, raw backdrop, the cloths held symbolic significance as well. By replacing sturdy walls with delicate fabric, Jordan further emphasized the fragile existence of these men and women living in the unstable tenements.
The original showing in 1926 was met with riots and anger. Our showing was met with subdued appreciation and the occasional inappropriate giggle. The passions that were once present in the audience have faded, and the story’s social commentary has lost much of its power. We were there to be entertained. And entertained we were. Joe Hanely’s clown-like Fluther and Cathy Belton’s bold Ms. Gogan spoke with relatable wit and honesty. The antics of Peter (Frankie McCafferty) and Covey (Mr. Kinlan) kept us laughing with their schoolboy pranks and temper tantrums. But it was in the quieter moments of the show that the real plot took place.
Some of my classmates said that the show was “slow,” and that nothing much seemed to happen. The so-called “action” of the play takes place off-stage, in an epic battle that we are never permitted to see. But Irish theatre is different than American theatre. Irish theatre is not the actor’s theatre, but the writer’s theatre. The words are the action. Persuasion and emotion are the driving force of the plot. There is more to the words than simply information—there is a poetic, lyrical quality that makes the language even more powerful.
That being said, the writer can’t do it alone. Jordan’s production presented a dynamic ensemble. Each actor needed to have an impressive range, since their characters go through demanding transitions. Fluther (Hanely) was at one moment endearingly dim-witted, and at the next the most courageous man in the tenement. Bessie Burgess (Gabrielle Reidy) seemed completely insane with eyes that were eerily blank. But by the end of the show, Bessie was the mother figure, the savior, the woman that gave her life and her sanity to those in need. It was Denise Gough’s devastating portrayal of Nora that I found most remarkable. In the first two acts, she was a beautiful wife, determined to run a perfect household. When she staggered onto the stage after intermission, she was sobbing openly, covered in dirt and blood.
With a young cast, an edgy set design, and a new director, this old story is as significant as ever. After 84 years, the sharp juxtaposition of the working poor against the idealistic Patrick Pearse is still driving audiences to the Abbey Theatre.
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