There was a comfort in seeing the stage hidden behind the closed red curtains, a friendliness to it, not discovering the set on stage, or allowing us time to mull over it, until the lights dim and the fabric is slowly pulled open. What it does reveal is Out of the Blue's production of Rebecca Lenkiewicz's second play, The Night Season, for which she won the Critic's Circle award for most promising playwright in 2004. Since then she has become the first woman to have an original play produced in The Olivier. The Night Season is set in Sligo and during the two acts shows us family life where the drama is in the small battles each member fights, internally and between each other, while also making us wonder why Esther, the wife and mother, now living in London, is a source of pain and hurt they all feel, which manifests and comes out in different ways.There is a worn feel to the kitchen where three sisters, Rose (Emer McNally), Maud (Naoise NigFhloinn) and the eldest, Judith (Therese Mitchell), are sitting around the table in pajamas waiting for an actor chap to arrive, who never does, well at least not until later, while Lily, played delightfully with confusion, aggression, pain and a lot of laughs by Ann Colderbanks, who manages to keep the Nan stooped over throughout, while showing that despite the frail look, her spirit is still there, coming out with lines we're not quite expecting, but like them all, harbouring the pain of life itself.
Gary (George McKevitt) is a pleasant man, who has a torch for one of the sisters, and meets the English actor, John Eastman, played by Ronan Murphy, who manages a suave approach that wouldn't be too out of place in a Richard Curtis film, and shows him the way to the three sisters home, where he is renting a room rather than an hotel. While the father, Patrick (Ken McEvoy) comes across as an unlikable man, whose anger bubbles below the surface and might explode at any time, happy enough to quote poetry but the aggression and cynicism covering his pain underneath.
The missing mother is part of the main thread that ties them together into this strange unit, as well as a character that while never seen is always there looking over their shoulders, in what is an ensemble piece. There is diversity in the characters and their delivery, which after a slow start that came across as a sense of awkwardness, they got into their characters well. There is a natural feel and flow to the piece, with only a couple of lines feeling a bit clunky, helped of course, by a writer with good feel for dialogue. A couple of times the flow of movement between scenes did slow and give us pause, disrupting the overall effect achieved by the company. There is also a lot of drink and getting drunk, and whiskey being consumed at all hours, more down to the script than anything else, while also showing the absurdities of life itself.
Each character has their own foibles, none are perfect, as they try to struggle on, directed well by Sean Ronan, last seen in the same theatre with Sweet Dreams, Mr Heroin, letting the drama breath between the three location set of the kitchen, a bedroom and a bar, understanding that is in its ordinariness that this play really works.
In truth, very little happens, there are no huge twists, there are no explosive revelations, it is is simply life on display, that it is sustained and keeps our interest and laughter going, as they are by degrees elegant and rude, is what gives an evening that is both curious and entertaining, while also getting a look at an early work from a writer who was soon to make a larger mark, resulting in an entertaining night out.
Runs until 11th October
Image courtesy of The Civic Theatre
Runs until 11th October
Image courtesy of The Civic Theatre