Reviewed today are The Devil's Larder in Cork, Al Green in Dublin, Cooney, RTÉ NSO/O'Carroll at the National Concert Hall and The Glory of Living at the Project Cube, Dublin
The Devil's Larder
White Street, Cork
Mary Leland
Theatre does take one out of oneself - although not always to somewhere one wants to be. Such as the old city morgue, as is the case with the Grid Iron production of The Devil's Larder. Ben Harrison has adapted the novel by Jim Crace as a series of episodes unrelated by anything other than a malign study of food and the habits of the human body.
Bolstered - perhaps even dominated - by the music of David Paul Jones and Catriona McKay (McKay's harps provide one of the more attractive elements) the work is sardonic and often very funny, with little scenes offered like toxic platefuls of what looks appetising but almost certainly is not. A dinner party is revived by strip fondue; a widow flavours her soup by using her dead husband's ashes; a fisherman snacks on a pastry filled with vitamins and poisons; a group of gourmands rush to dine at a restaurant where the bushmeat could be something more sinister. And no one watching will ever feel the same about Jerusalem artichokes again.
All this is managed smoothly by the vivacious and clever cast, excelling in their team-work and gliding from one personality to another. "Glide", however, is not the verb to describe the structure devised by director Ben Harrison to ensure a sense of displacement, conducting people past an autopsy room into claustrophobic spaces (only 25 people can be accommodated each night) over which a persistent smell seems to resolve itself into a stench.
Cliff Dolliver's set design is often ingenious, as it has to be to work in spaces sometimes too confined even for the mild discomforts intended to dislocate the audience which, from 10pm to midnight, is willing to embrace the eccentricities of the last of the Relocation series of productions commissioned by Cork 2005.
Al Green
Vicar Street, Dublin
Jim Carroll
He came, he saw and he handed out more red roses than some florists will flog in a week. The most consummate soul showman around was back in town and, while those spine-tingling vocal chords were somewhat hoarse on occasion, here was proof that there really is no show like an Reverend Al show.
Since he was last in Dublin in 1999, Green has undergone a significant change in fortunes. Reunited with his collaborator Willie Mitchell and now signed to Blue Note, his last two albums, I Can't Stop and Everything's OK, have been chock-a-block with stirring soul, as he has gone back to those Memphis roots which served him so well.
It's a powerful version of I Can't Stop which punctuates the early part of the show, Green's excellent 13-piece backing band adding bumping horns, a punchy backbeat and a soulful lick. It's a track which is already sounding like vintage material, yet it's the more seasoned tunes which really demonstrate Green's incredible staying power.
Let's Stay Together and Tired Of Being Alone in particular let Green soar, his voice hitting notes anchored somewhere in the stratosphere. He tells us that some people in Ohio once questioned if Reverend Al still had it. He then unleashes a shriek which they could probably hear in downtown Cleveland, the riposte to end all ripostes.
Throughout, it's Green the showman who reigns supreme, whether it's getting down on his knees, slipping on and off his jacket or shipping out those roses. Yet such stageshow exuberance doesn't take from the music. Green must have performed some of these songs a thousand times, yet there's still a clearly recognisable joy and euphoria acting as a motor for each tune.
Green's day-job as a pastor gets an outing too, albeit on a more subtle footing than on previous occasions. Sanctifying time begins with him leading the room through Amazing Grace and takes in a fiery bout of the hallelujahs. Green's message has always been one of love and happiness and tonight, that message is set in stone.
Cooney, RTÉ NSO/O'Carroll
NCH, Dublin
Andrew Johnstone
Thomas - Mignon Overture.
Franck - Symphonic Variations.
Britten - Soirées musicales.
Verdi - Aida March.
Offenbach - Orpheus in the Underworld Overture
The RTÉ summer lunchtime series continued with a concert that oozed musicianship. Exchanging his horn player's chair for the conductor's rostrum was Fergus O'Carroll, under whose direction the NSO played with fluency and panache.
With two naughty French overtures, César Franck in lighter-than-usual vein and even Benjamin Britten in burlesque mode, it was a programme full of humour. The admirably poised delivery avoided mere buffoonery, however, and called to mind the dictum that being funny is a serious business. Nor were any details glossed over in Verdi's Grand March from Aida, which released its fireworks in an artfully co-ordinated display.
Throughout the concert, O'Carroll struck a delicate balance between order and laissez-aller that yielded crisp ensembles and tidy flexions of tempo while leaving room for some eloquent sectional and solo playing. This was a favourable context for young Irish pianist Neil Cooney, who took the solo part in Franck's Variations with the sensitivity of a chamber musician.
The continuous flow of ideas between piano and orchestra showed he was more concerned with the overall interpretation than with projecting his own virtuosity. In places, a little more Lisztian bravura might have been appropriate, but certainly not at the expense of the thoughtfulness and clarity that characterised this performance.
The Glory of Living
Project Cube, Dublin
Gerry Colgan
This is the play that, six years ago, propelled Rebecca Gilman into the front ranks of American playwrights, and it comes here festooned with awards. It is also the kind of play that AboutFACE company does well.
Lisa and her mother are the kind of family known in Alabama as trailer trash. The mother is an alcoholic who sells sex behind a thin curtain. Lisa has become immune to this; but then one day two young men come to call. While one enjoys the mother's embraces, Lisa is beguiled by and leaves with the other. Clint, as will become clear, is very persuasive.
They marry and have twin girls, usually boarded out with Clint's parents while he plays Svengali to Lisa. Their pastime is to pick up girls, then bring them home where Clint abuses and rapes them. Afterwards he has Lisa drive to some remote spot, where she shoots them. In time the police appear, and she is their primary target. Clint, after all, was never around for the actual killings.
There is a grisly fascination about the events of the first half - call it the Hannibal Lecter syndrome. But the play's essential interest comes later, when the lawyer for the defence probes Lisa's actions and motives. He begins to understand that she was emotionally burnt-out from childhood, an automaton waiting to be programmed - and then Clint arrived. He will be freed in a few years, and she will be executed.
The acting is strong and convincing, with Vicky Burke (Lisa) and Alan Walsh (Clint) heading a number of cameo performances. Director Erin Murray keeps her cast on target, but the pseudo-realistic set design is unimaginative; a minimalist approach might have served better. But the heart of the production beats strongly in this robust production.
