From a gory Irish opera to a great retelling of 'Dr Jekyll And Mr Hyde', we round up another batch of first nights.
Thwaite ***
Project
Michael Dervan
All human life is there, you might say about Simon Doyle's libretto for Jürgen Simpson's chamber opera, a Genesis Opera-Opera Theatre Company co-production with Almeida Aldeburgh Opera.
There's food, sex, arguments, fights, killing and religion of a sort. The seven-character scenario, set in a place that has experienced an unnamed and unexplained catastrophe, is driven by expectations of the arrival of a prophet, the eponymous Thwaite.
The prophet never comes. Thwaite, an archaic word for a piece of land, or clearing, conveniently equals The Wait. And waiting, with the oddly named, tatter-clothed characters (Biddle, Blane, Firk, Phip, Moorish, Quain, Wyke) bickering often verbosely in a wasted setting (Dick Bird's designs evoke a blasted theatre into which an ice-cream van has landed) brings inescapable echoes of Beckett.
Simpson's response to the libretto was that it would work only as either opera or cartoon. His music and Dan Jemmett's direction offer a bit of both. The music is often as blunt and to the point as the explosive captions in comic strips, the frequent adoption of speech or parlando delivery like text balloons after a mainly graphic sequence of images.
The reasons the piece works at all are that neither authors nor presenters shy from extremes and that Simpson clearly relishes the sheer theatricality of being theatrical. The message, whatever you might think it to be, can look after itself.
The standout performances in a strong cast were those of Jonathan Gunthorpe as the madcap Quain, Marie Angel as the naively ecstatic Biddle and Omar Ebrahim as the possibly sane Moorish, who leaves the scheming Blane of Nicole Tibbels to her own devices after she has done away with everyone else. Philip Walsh conducted with daring force.
Ends today
The 7 Deadly Sins ****
City Arts Centre
Susan Conley
Woe unto ye who would seek your 15 minutes of fame on Garadice City's Channel 7: you'll find yourself doing laps in a lake of fire if the seven deadly sins have anything to say about it. Performance Corporation's production is less a conventional play than a variety show, and although the narrative drive suffers from the pastiche motif the company's signature style is very much in place.
Each sin, on pain of banishment, must poison the minds of the squeaky-clean denizens of Garadice City through television, with Satan himself figuring as a television executive from hell. The ensemble is more than equal to the demands placed on it via quick costume and attitude changes, but, like real TV, some shows are better than others. Nevertheless, ratings for energy and creativity are off the charts, and the sheer fun of the show should be enough to bring in audiences.
Runs until Saturday
Beauty And The Other Side
Of O***
Temple Bar Gallery & Studios
Christine Madden
When is a dance not a dance? When Deborah Hay, a founding member of the innovative, genre-leading Judson Dance Theater in New York, creates it. When are dancers not dancers? When they are 73 trillion cells all "inviting to be seen".
The two pieces, performed respectively by Ella Clarke and Julie Lockett, conform in no way to conventional choreography. Improvised each time, the only constant is a choreographic mantra that plugs into a blueprint for movement but doesn't dictate it. This method results in dance that appears startlingly fresh, like newly spawned life jerking, spinning and twisting in the test tube of the studio space. Clarke and Lockett interspersed their alternating performances with discussions on Hay's method and its effects.
With the "mantras" posted before each solo, the audience is drawn into vicarious participation with the dance and communication with the dancers. The installation comes across as extremely abstract but insightful to anyone associated with performance art.
Runs until October 4th
Don't Sleep ***
SS Michael & John
Belinda McKeon
Señora Maria Buena (Judith Higgins), or rather her spirit, is all in a flap; having died in the Spanish Civil War as she demanded to talk to the soldier who shot her husband, she now has to watch her two gormless sons, Lolo and Perot (Carlos García and Miquel Barceló), follow in her wake, with chaotic consequences. ... Combining elements of slapstick and commedia dell'arte, and performing in several languages, the Galway-based Teatro Punto ensemble embarks on a hectic crusade that, although careering through a landscape of sombre themes - war, brotherhood, need and grief - always remains comic, vivacious and warm.
Moments of incomprehensibility - stemming from the heavy accents of García and Barceló, from frequent forays into Spanish and Italian and from the manic pace of it all - can jar, but they are softened by the ensemble's quick-thinking interaction with the audience. Judith Higgins's wry old Irishwoman, overseeing it all, is a delight.
Runs until Saturday
How Jane Brown Grew Her Fingers And Toes **
SS Michael & John
Christine Madden
With a name like that this could have been children's theatre - and, despite its sexual nature, that's what it really was. Much like a rock video, and despite a promising start, it unfortunately paid only lip service to sexual platitudes, becoming what it had set out to accuse.
In an incense-scented hall (nice touch) three women dressed for the lap-dance set, legs stained orange, are asleep and breathing deeply. Their slow awakening winds them into all manner of organic shapes. Although a bit lengthy, this was the best bit.
Afterwards, the thrusting and symbolic expressions of hungry, animal lust might have been interesting for young teens weaned on MTV, but they lacked any more profound interpretation of the discovery of lust and its consequences. A pity, because the idea was good, as was some of the movement and choreography, but it went awry somewhere.
Runs until Saturday
Hyde And Jekyll ****
The Crypt, Dublin Castle
Belinda McKeon
A surge of irrational anger on a packed Dublin train is the catalyst for a disturbing journey into the dark side of human nature in this fine piece of movement theatre from the year-old BDNC group, devised and directed by Ciarán Taylor. The young cast swoops and swarms, footfalls stamping out a pattern of inescapable dread and danger, as the two-sided persona of Robert Louis Stevenson's afflicted doctor becomes the template for a picture of contemporary society that is shocking, gripping and sickeningly funny - as it's true.
The performers work cleverly to maximise the potential of the Crypt space and of their own bodies, subtly tracing the struggle between frank physicality and refined personality that characterises human existence. A play like this, which explores the barely concealed underbelly of life in a modern city (clearly Dublin), could easily fall back on crude measures, but BDNC's approach is inventive, intelligent and visually compelling.
Be warned, though: just like walking through that city's night streets, you never know what horror is coming next.
Runs until Saturday
La Passion De Jeanne D'Arc ****
Saint Patrick's Cathedral
Donald Clarke
So boldly hewn are the endless close-ups of Maria Falconetti in Carl Dreyer's 1928 masterpiece La Passion De Jeanne D'Arc that they appear to announce an end to cinema. Perhaps this statuesque splendour was what the medium had been working towards, and nothing else need now be added, least of all dialogue.
Monumental and solemn, Falconetti's weeping face seemed right at home among the vaults of St Patrick's Cathedral, where the film was accompanied by the Swiss organist Guy Bovet at a screening presented by the Pipeworks Festival.
"I hope the music does not disturb you too much," he said before he began. And, sure enough, Bovet's undemonstrative trills served to colour the images rather than overpower them as a productive ambiguity was subtly maintained. (Are these bubbling chords the saint's ascending soul or the fire's consuming heat?)
All in all, a sublime experience, only slightly marred by the use of DVD rather than film. Sadly, the two-night run ended last night.
The Pushcart Peddlers ***
New Theatre
Giles Newington
Shimmel Shitzman is proud of his family name and full of innocent hope as he arrives in New York from Europe to start a new life. Not far into this brief (45-minute) extended sketch by Murray Shisgal, however, he is relieved of name, innocence and the $43 he has brought with him by banana salesman Cornelius J. Hollingsworth. But Shimmel is a quick learner, and by the time the not-so-blind flower seller Maggie Cutwell crosses his path he is getting wise to the ways of his new homeland.
Gently amusing and nicely performed by Bootstrap actors Daniel J. Healy, Colin Smith and Lorraine Murphy, The Pushcart Peddlers is an undemanding, conventionally told story that flies along to its neat conclusion, providing one or two funny moments along the way, as in the gauche Shimmel's attempts to imitate Cornelius's sales patter.
Runs until Saturday
The Race Of The Ark
Tattoo****
Ha'penny Bridge Inn
Gerry Colgan
Mr Foster has just opened his flea market and is handing around objects for inspection. Each has a number, and he consults a tattered inventory to give an account of its history. They include a tile, a plate from a skull, an owl mask, a sock soaked in gasoline and other strange items.
As he speaks he relates the objects to stages in his life. Abandoned by his father, he was fostered and suffered from depressions and blackouts. His recollections grow disjointed and even sinister. The people he loved have always vanished from his life, and he can't remember how or why. We gradually realise he is now quite insane.
David Hancock's Obie-winning play offers a fascinating view of human nature under the cosh - and a role any actor with the requisite talent would die for. David Heap has it in spades in this hypnotic creation.
Runs until October 4th
Shadows ****
SS Michael & John
Helen Meany
A softly spoken man with a microphone, a series of slides and some live music: from such simple elements the Chinese-Australian artist William Yang has forged a performance piece that is a curious hybrid - part visual essay, part history lesson, part autobiographical quest. The slides projected behind him are his own photographs, artless snaps interspersed with beautifully composed pastoral images of the outback.
His understated commentary probes aspects of racism and colonialism, moving easily between Australia and Germany, from the displaced Aborigines of the present day to the German settlers of south Australia in the 19th century, from the Holocaust to the internment of Germans in Australia in the first and second World Wars. Assuming nothing, his narrative has a simplicity - even naivety - that is deceptive. Bolstered by a delicate soundtrack that fuses flute and percussion, it builds to an absorbing meditation on genocide and a plea for reconciliation.
Runs until Saturday
This Man's Tale *
St Mary's Abbey
Peter Crawley
En route to St Mary's Abbey - the audience is asked to meet at SS Michael & John - we are guided through a potted history of its medieval chapter house and the stonework of Essex Bridge. Throw enough context at a wall, perhaps, and something might stick.
Sadly nothing will make Cardboard Box's debut production cohere. In the first awkward disjuncture of many, an overwrought script abandons site-specificity and narrative coherence to chase its tale around a cliff top instead. Here, Barry Flanagan's tortured Davy conjures up Andrea Kelly, deceased friend and "soul pilot", to attempt numerous, incomprehensible revisions of childhood, love and foregone tragedy.
That director Darragh McKeon demonstrates no capacity for space, movement or chapel acoustics is unfortunate. That this leaves his capable cast so uncomfortable is inexcusable. Heaping metaphors, insensitive lighting and mortifying attempts at physical performance on a stage does not result in theatre, no more than throwing cogs and bottle caps in a pot will result in a wristwatch.
Runs until October 11th
Whitewash & 2b ***
Theatre Space
Michael Seaver
Subverting audience preconceptions is important to choreographer Niamh Condron. Her dancers co-exist in the space, internalising motivations and restricting their own movement. In 2b Condron and Nick Bryson move in blue plastic raincoats, and any physical interaction happens almost because they get in each other's way rather than because of a conscious decision. Movement blends best when they are independent or in suspended moments of balance. The piece lost me (or I lost it) about halfway through, as Bryson quivered along the front of the stage, but form became clearer towards the end.
I had no such moments in WhiteWASH. Here, joined by Chloe de Buyl and Megan Kennedy, the counterpoint is more complex, and as the internal clockwork gathers momentum towards the end the effect is mesmerising and seductive. There were still some loose threads, but maybe it was my assumptions that had just been sabotaged.
Runs until Saturday
Working It Out ***
Bewley's Cafe Theatre
Susan Conley
First love is an all-encompassing experience, first heartbreak a hopelessly gaping wound. Actor and writer Jennifer Keappock's journey through pain via press-ups, a journey we've heard about before, is lifted by the fact that her character, Maura, is a lesbian. The text is infused with all the sincerity and nascent philosophy of 20-something self-discovery, with the added tension of Maura's struggle to accept her sexual orientation without rage or shame. As she moves through her workout, the text often reflects the fragmented inner workings of her thoughts. When it's not doing that, however, it's fairly cut-and-dried exposition that moves the story forward.
The dearth of plays taking the point of view of women who love women is somewhat remedied here, but the piece's brevity does a disservice to its theme and to several interesting notions that might bear teasing out.
Runs until Saturday
The ESB Dublin Fringe Festival box office is at 12 East Essex Street, Temple Bar, Dublin (formerly DesignYard). You can book by telephone at 1850- 374643. The fee of €4 a ticket is waived if you book at www.fringefest.com
Spiegeltent events continue tonight at Wolfe Tone Park (beside the Jervis Centre) with Anne and Sue (the former Nualas core, but no longer Nuala-style) presenting some of their "feckin' great"songs (7 p.m.).
Later there's Double Adaptor and Trouble Penetrator with Justin Carroll, a miniature improvising electronic bar band (9 p.m.).
Tomorrow, Performance star Penny Arcade (Bitch! Dyke! Fag! Whore!) present New York Values (7 p.m., also Saturday). Terrafolk play Balkan, gypsy, jazz and classical with a dash of comedy (9 p.m.).
On Saturday, Billy Jenkins's Big Fights Fighting for Creative Music is a battle between improvisers and jazzers, complete with referee and timekeeper (9 p.m.).
The Critical Voices series continues tomorrow (1 p.m., free) with Never Ending Stories, a discussion about storytelling and narration and how we understand them in the 21st century. The panel includes visual artist Aoife Desmond and writer and performer Michelle Read. Theatre lecturer Victor Merriman is the chairman.
