George Bernard Shaw's Saint Joan was written in a simpler time, when it was still possible to believe that God might wish to become involved in the machinations of feudal lords in Europe. That his play is based on this premise is signalled by the contrivance in the first scene of a minor miracle validating the divinity of Joan's mission. She is chosen rather than choosing.
Modern psychiatric analysis of her Voices, and new perspectives on nationalism, prompt a more cynical view than that proposed by the usually iconoclastic author. But we are in the theatre here, where disbelief may be suspended in more ways than one without doing violence to the intellect. Director Patrick Mason does put some additional strain on one's credulity by shifting the time of the play to the 1920s, creating a host of verbal and visual anachronisms for little apparent profit.
Joe Vanek's impressionistic set design, of an open stage with monumental side structures and backdrop, permits the scenes to flow in easy succession, but, like the costumes, lacks colour. Despite these reservations, the production is a faithful staging, in words and spirit, of Shaw's text. This is a long and wordy one, and not without its longueurs; but, by its end here, the illusion has been solidly created of a historical phenomenon and a mystery yet unsolved. En route to that ending, the stage is filled with characters and events which engross through the author's legerdemain and the theatre's skills.
The focus is immediately and inevitably on Jane Brennan's Joan, to which she brings a boyish physique and appearance which sideline the issue of age; her subject was in her late teens. Brennan's performance leans to the cerebral, a thoughtful and true delivery of word and gesture. It lacks the sense of intuitive arrogance and panache which might have made the character blaze - as we know it can be made to - with unnerving conviction. But she makes a difficult role seem easy and persuasive; no mean feat.
A truly impressive cast has been assembled to support her, and they do so with distinction. The clash of characters and beliefs comes strongly across through such interpretations as Clive Geraghty's archbishop, Ian Price's English lord, Des Cave's bishop, Mark O'Regan's Dauphin, Simon O'Gorman's French captain and Tom Hickey's Inquisitor, all at one time or another in thrall to, or frustrated by, Joan's obduracy in the name of her God. The internal tensions generated by these exchanges fairly crackle across the stage at times and the final epilogue - not essential, in my view - earns its keep here.
Smaller roles are well taken by Sean Rocks, Andrew Bennett, Enda Oates, Des Nealon, Derek Chapman, Niall O'Brien, Fedelma Cullen, Mark D'Aughton, Stephen Hogan and many others; the production has not stinted on its company. It is, I think, clear that I would have preferred it to be less muted, and set in its intended period, with ambience and costumes to match. But this is still a worthy revival of a play that deserves to be considered anew.
Continues until August 1st. To book, phone: 01-8787222.
