Irish Timeswriters review the Fidelio Trio at the Hugh Lane Gallery, Dublin and Here We Are Again Stillat the Nun's Island Theatre, Galway

Fidelio Trio

Hugh Lane Gallery, Dublin

Schumann – Violin Sonata in A minor Op 105; John McLachlan – Natural Order; Schumann – Piano Trio in F Op 80.

There is much going on within the workings of Schumann’s A minor Violin Sonata. It dates from 1851 when, for the first time, he was attempting to use in his chamber music the cyclical form he had previously deployed in his symphonies. Emotionally, 1851 was a difficult time for him. Persistent grievances about his conducting were making his position as director of the municipal orchestra and choir in Düsseldorf quite unpleasant. In the midst of all that, he wrote the sonatain four days.

The Fidelio Trio’s violinist, Darragh Morgan, and pianist, Mary Dullea, appeared to take an understated approach. With playing that was always clean, balanced and certainly expressive, they nonetheless allowed the music to speak primarily for itself – the dramatic first movement in A minor, intense and passionate, Schumann acknowledging that at the time he was “very angry with certain people”.

Natural Orderis a foray for Dublin-born John McLachlan into the realm of aleatoric composition, incorporating chance in a way chiefly associated with post-war avant-garde figures such as John Cage and the late Karlheinz Stockhausen. McLachlan's piece presents a continuous sequence of brief, individual comments from the three players, some of which are conventionally played notes while others include mouth noises, knocks, rubs and scrapes, and plucking the piano strings. I say comments rather than conversations because there is no sense of interaction, only sequence, the order having been pre-determined by coin tosses and rolls of dice (alas, not part of the performance).

McLachlan writes that the piece is not intended to alter the listener’s mood, and it simply continues on its aimless and happy-go-lucky way for 10 minutes and then stops.

To finish, the Fidelio played Schumann’s F major trio, understatement cast aside, a great driving energy in the opening movement, a grazioso dance in the third, and a compellingly measured build-up in the finale.

MICHAEL DUNGAN

Here We Are Again Still

Nun’s Island Theatre, Galway

Christian O’Reilly’s plays have always explored difficult social issues. His 2002 debut, The Good Father, tackled the inter-related subjects of crisis pregnancy and miscarriage. That was followed by It Just Came Out and Teacher, which explored racism and bullying respectively. Is This About Sex? asked how we can cope with sexual taboos in a hyper-sexualised culture.

In those plays, O’Reilly focused on moments of crisis in the lives of isolated individuals, but always did so to begin a conversation. And he always moved quickly beyond the individual’s problem to think about people in general: what motivates, divides, and sustains us.

In contrast with that earlier work, Here We Are Again Stillfocuses entirely on character. This may be due to the play's origins: it was funded under Galway City Council's Per Cent for Art programme, and grew out of workshops with the residents of Walter Macken Place in Galway's Mervue estate. By grounding his writing in the lived experience of that community, O'Reilly both localises and universalises the action: he celebrates the people who inspired the play, but tells a story that could be set almost anywhere.

That story involves the development of a surprisingly tender relationship between three people. Paddy (Eamonn Hunt) has lost his wife to cancer, while Tony (Andy Kelleher) is trying to escape drug addiction. The two are brought together as a result of some well-meaning interference from Imelda (Bríd Ní Neachtain), a fascinating woman who canhelp others because she’s made peace with herself.

Featuring more than a dozen scenes, the play feels a little stretched-out at times, but director Andrew Flynn ensures the action generally moves with fluidity and dynamism.

Here We Are Again Stillfeels like a significant step for O'Reilly. It builds on his existing achievements, but also asks an important new question: how can we find a reason to get out of bed every morning if we believe that there's nothing left to live for? The answers he provides make this play simpler – but therefore more profound – than anything he has written before.

Ends tomorrow

PATRICK LONERGAN

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