Dancing at Lughnasa
Old Vic, London
THEY have transformed the Old Vic and now you can see the front room of the Mundy family in the round. Add a sturdy tree, sundry farm items and sods of grass, and pre-Second World War Donegal is recreated in a revival of Dancing at Lughnasa, Brian Friel’s 1990 play about continuity and change.
Five unwed sisters are just about managing to get by. The chief earner is Kate, a schoolteacher, but the others work on the farm, and two, Agnes and Rose, supplement the family income by earning a pittance as home workers. They do not regard themselves as having been left on the shelf yet, but they are all aware that the marriage clock is ticking.
All the sisters have strong personalities. Maggie, the second eldest, is upbeat yet also displays sadness. Chris has a man – the father of her child – who visits her intermittently. However, she knows they will never marry. Agnes is secretive – and has an interest in Chris’s man. Rose – poor Rose – is the backward one, who nonetheless is most forward about her desires. Kate, as the eldest, regards it as her duty to maintain the family and, as such, sets the rules of the house. The most educated, she cannot see that her adherence to strict Roman Catholic principles is a mask for her personal frustration.
The story is told from the memories of Michael – Chris’s son. This allows him to build up an atmosphere of the times – to describe how the introduction of the wireless means that the outside world is coming into their home. Later, Michael manages successfully to weave into the drama what has happened to them all.
The past also returns by way of their brother, who went to Africa in order to save souls. He has come back – but rather than convert he has been converted by the beliefs of the natives. He now embraces an older tradition – one that emphasises taking pleasure when it comes, like the pre-Christian Lughnasa festival in Donegal – and a tradition certainly at odds with the restraint of Eamon de Valera’s Ireland.
What struck me as odd about the 1990s production was that none of the sisters were married. Here, in 2009, it is clearer that, while they are part of the community, they have a sense of superiority towards their neighbours. Chris’s man, after all, is Welsh.
In the earlier production – as far as I remember – the dance was very accomplished, a kind of pre-Riverdance, but here one thinks more of The Rite Of Spring. All dance individually – wildly, in some cases (Kate, of course, is traditional) – and this is suggestive of turmoil within.
The one thing that is not so powerful now is the immediacy of their impending poverty. Ireland is no longer the poor country it was and the streets of London now have far fewer homeless Irish on them.
The producers cannot influence the Irish economy, but what they can do is control the casting. All actors in this ensemble piece turn in strong performances. Niamh Cusack is on top form playing the multi-faceted Maggie. Michelle Fairley as the stern Kate also excels. It is Andrea Corr’s theatrical debut and, as Rose, the Corrs’ lead singer shows she has a lot of acting talent. As a play, this is a winning combination of humour, poignancy and thoughtful reflection. If you saw the play before, I suggest going again. If not, just go.
Richard Woulfe
