l to r. Lucianne McEvoy, Darragh Kelly, Brian Gleeson, Frank McCuster, Gary Lydon.
Photos. Drew Farrell

“You will not want to let these characters go home”

Editorial Rating:  4 Stars: Outstanding

For an Irish play set in an out of the way bar, The Weir is pretty sobering. That it is also witty, articulate, and beset by place, loss and sprites is less of a surprise. Writer Conor McPherson has serious form by now when it comes to the dregs of self at the bottom of a glass,  or more cheerfully, to the poetry in the head of a creamy pint of Guinness.

Except that the Guinness in Brendan’s bar is ‘off’ because the fecking tap is broken. Jack has to help himself to a bottle (it’s that kind of village pub); Finbar’s ok because he’s become a tad more sophisticated and drinks Harp Lager; Jim, gentle soul, is happy with small chasers; Brendan is pleased to keep them company; and Valerie, well, she’s down from Dublin and might stay a while. She has a white wine – awkward – poured in a straight glass. There is no smoking ban yet and Designer Francis O’Connor has the craic curling across a wide, low beamed, space with the telegraph poles leaning drunkenly outside. There is a television above the bar but it’s a careful, appealing touch when Jack reaches up to switch off the rugby – it might have been gaelic football. The reception was bad anyway.

Nothing interferes with the story telling and there is no interval. First, Jack with his faerie road and spooky knocks at the door; then Finbar, with a terrifying old woman on the stairs; then Jim’s unwitting shocker in the graveyard that summons Valerie’s nightmare; and finally, cleverly, at the fireside, it’s back to Jack as he mournfully recalls his lost chance at love and marriage. Each tale is far too enthralling, too involving and heartfelt, to be contained as a monologue. The silence after Valerie’s story is literally stunning. Director Amanda Gaughan lets it down evocatively, rendering the men helpless in their sympathy.

McPherson’s achievement is to write bar stool conversation that is as moreish as good peanuts, wholesome against the odds. And the Irish cast are very, very good at helping themselves: Gary Lydon as Jack, sturdy, crumpled; Darragh Kelly as Jim, fond, credulous; Brian Gleeson (yes, son of ….) as Brendan, open, obliging; Lucianne McEvoy as Valerie, injured, self-possessed. And Frank McCusker as Finbar, whose equable, decent, tones stay short of the self-satisfied.

Brian Gleeson, Brendan, and Gary Lydon as Jack.
Harp Lager and Draught Guinness as themselves.

‘The Weir’ was written in 1997, enjoyed immediate success and has attracted lyrical approval thereafter. Personally, I’ll play safe and just recognise how companionable a piece it is. You will not want to let these characters go home in the rain*. Single men, who know each other well, have gathered hospitably, stood each other a drink (or two), and have talked idly. However, there is the one woman amongst them and it’s Valerie who’s channeling the hard stuff.

(*Too tempting, sorry, not to cross -reference to Seamus Heaney’s Casualty from a darker period whose subject is the ‘Dawn-sniffing revenant’ plodding home from the pub in midnight rain.)

Reviewer: Alan Brown (Seen 19 January)

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l.tor: Charlotte Miranda Smith as Susan, Ben Onwukwe as Aslan, and Claire-Marie Sneddon as Lucy.
Photos. Royal Lyceum Theatre.

“Fantastical adventure and heart”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars: Outstanding

Allegory or not, “It’s [still] a magic wardrobe. There’s a wood inside it, and it’s snowing, and there’s a faun and a witch and it’s called Narnia. Come and see.”

And enchanting it certainly is. This 2009 adaptation follows the adventures of four WWII evacuees as they travel through the wardrobe and discover the mysterious, wintry world of Narnia, encountering everything from witches to talking lions, to Father Christmas. C S Lewis’ wondrous story is expertly captured on the Lyceum stage by director Andrew Panton, and is an absolute triumph of a Christmas show.

The one thing that is immediately evident is how polished a production this is. Each scene change is almost like an smooth apparition; as if in some transitory dream, the audience move from one moment to the next without really knowing how they got there, and it’s wonderful. As the oak-panelled set opens out to reveal Narnia for the first time, one cannot help but gasp – with the younger audience – at the intricate display on stage: snow falls and coats the floor in a sparkling white blanket; tall icy trees seem to go on forever and that iconic lamp post glows in the shadows, waiting patiently for Mr Tumnus to appear. The impressive set is further complimented by sumptuous costume design, particularly in that of the animals. Mr and Mrs Beaver and Aslan the Lion are brought to life not only through their physicality but also through that wardrobe, but literally this time.

Stunning set and faithful costume aside, it is the strength of the cast that bring the real magic to this production. Special commendation must go to James Rottger, Charlotte Miranda Smith, Christian Ortega and Claire-Marie Sneddon, playing children Peter, Susan, Edmond and Lucy, respectively. As an audience member, there is often an underlying fear when watching adult actors in child roles as, if poorly performed, it can often remove you from the story. Yet this troupe executes their performances with such a warm and honest vulnerability that it is impossible not to be drawn into their adventure.

This childlike wondering proves all the more effective through the addition of song to the narrative. While some numbers do feel unnecessary, they do give the show another dimension of fantastical adventure and heart. After defeating the Witch, and the cast start singing the words, “You can’t know, but you can believe”, the spellworking in the theatre is almost palpable, and it is hard to suppress the urge to wave back at Aslan and the faun as they bid their farewell to their audience.

As stage magic goes, cutting the mustard might be up there as tricky; and evil White Witch (Pauline Knowles) has trouble living the part that is forever Tilda Swinton’s. A chilling performance works for her at times but it is often ambushed by pantomime warmth and is limited by the reach and power of the virtuous characters.

However, this is holy Advent time and this is a lovely production of a miraculous story that will delight the expectations of the children and grown-ups who come to see it.

Reviewer: Rachel Cram (Seen 4 December)

Go to The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe at the Lyceum.

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