Remember To Breathe, Smock Alley Theatre, Tiger Dublin Fringe

Fringe festivals can throw up something that you are not expecting. It can be wild, crazy, a little different. In this case, Orla Murphy's play writing debut Remember to Breath, it has given up something beautiful. Yes, it is heartbreaking in its subject matter, and timely for the day that is in it, but it has a control and restrained style that keeps it from rushing. Moving along at its own steady pace, like the tide itself, it draws you into Maeve's world, past and present, as she finally learns to swim in New Zealand under the tutelage of Doreen, having gone there in the wake of the Christchurch earthquake, leaving behind the remains of the busted Irish boom. 

Starting off with a short projected film of a supermarket during an aftershock of the earthquake itself, although not coming together too smoothly to begin with, is really the only hitch. The play opens the window on the wider picture through the narrower focus of the personal. Murphy's play takes us back through Maeve's journey: growing up in a land where cranes are plentiful and people are happily invited to the Galway tent, where trips to Thailand and Australia are the norm, and not knowing what you want to be or do, in Maeve's case an architect alongside her builder father. Water connects her and her father, more than she wishes. It is this relationship that everything else is built around.

There are no bells and whistles, something it is all the better for. There is instead a quiet confidence in itself and its performances, while also having some nice touches that shock our senses; noises, lights, as they rush out to the audience for a moment before returning back to itself, like a wave splashing up. Water is a key image through it all, debris as well, emotional or physical, at times coming alive itself through the pale blue ripples of Eoin Lennon's wonderful lighting design, capturing the golden warmth of a remembered summer's day to bringing us into a dark swimming pool. 

Control is a big part of this production, shown by the performers themselves. Liz Fitzgibbon as Maeve brings her to life with an artistic ordinariness, the kind of person we all know, while along side Raymond Keane as her father, they bring a warmth for each other, but also a distance. Keane is the father Maeve remembers, the story told from her perspective as it moves between then and now. Doreen, played by Geraldine McAlinden is the less reserved New Zealander, adding contrast, and a lightness, between the three. In all it is a ensemble cast, with a chorus, that works well together. 

Like all good theatre, it takes us on a journey, one we have all traveled in some shape or form, or   have seen others do so. There are no wild political statements here, no homilies, the events that occur are seen from Maeve's perspective, the emotions throughout coming from her in a very steady, well controlled performance. In doing this, it makes its statements well in its own way, showing us how they affect people. But it is the relationship between the father and daughter where it all revolves around, coming together in a profound, poignant, emotional yet unexpected uplifting ending.

Sometimes plays creep up on you and take you by surprise. This is one of them. It draws you in and holds you there until the end. Beautiful.