Metamorphosis-Review-Dublin Theatre Festival (Olympia Theatre Monday 29th September)

At one point, about ten minutes into last night’s performance of Metamorphosis, the audience had a mild and satisfied smile to itself. The smile was induced by the slow realisation that the stage had been transformed. Having looked upon Gregor’s room pinned against a wall, we were suddenly, through a trick of light and brilliant set design, gazing into his room from above.

 

It was an amazingly clever piece of trickery and one that certainly gave the performance some oomph. As we followed Gregor(Gisli Orn Gardarsson) who, having been transformed inexplicably into a beetle of some sort, had to crawl his way around the house; his family’s life gradually continues in the kitchen under his room. Although his adoring sister Grete initially tries to take care of her brother her parents are not interested. Gradually, Grete herself begins to shun Gregor, treating him more and more like an animal than a beloved brother. Throughout, Gregor tries to communicate with his family for whom he was the sole breadwinner but his voice has been transformed into a loud and incomprehensible screech.

 

Over the course of the play, the family’s former hero is dehumanised and becomes referred to as vermin and disgusting. The Nazi overtones are striking and clever. When Gregor’s father, played here by the somewhat shaky (opening night nerves I suspect) Ingvar E Sigurdsson, finds a new job, which involves the wearing of a uniform, the family begin to change. The mother’s former floral attire is replaced with black clothing but most strikingly Grete’s caring and sunny demeanour is replaced by strict respect and punctuality, her innocent school uniform by a sharp grey suit and black leather boots.

 

When a potential lodger, a well to do and handsome man played by Jonathan McGuinness, comes to inspect his would be lodgings the family are beside themselves with admiration. Gregor interrupts them by crashing through the ceiling and the horrified lodger bolts out the door while expressing his disgust. The family draw the only conclusion possible and encouraged by the now frustrated Grete, Gregor’s fate is sealed.

 

 The star of this show, with Grete a close second, was the physically impressive Gardarsson. Although he did have a nice rest for approximately ten minutes during which the family try to sycophantically impress their would be lodger, he spent most of the play hanging from the wall, crawling down stairs or being thumped on the head. Throughout all this suffering he managed to keep the soft and sympathetically selfless character of Gregor alive. Perhaps his role as an actor was not as tough as the rest of the cast but he played to his strengths making his ending all the more potent.

 

This is not a word for word adaption of Kafka’s story but it is well done and stays true to the story’s main themes. And for the set and Gardarsson’s performance it is definitely worth seeing.

Kehoe’s – An Unseasonable treat – As published in Totally Dublin – August 2008

By Jonathan deBurca Butler

 

Migration is a funny and wonderful fact of nature.  In winter for example, some breeds of whale move to warmer waters to breed and give birth, moving back in the summer to the colder climes of the north to feed. Perhaps, the steak and chips are better in the northern hemisphere. But whatever their motives this is what some whales do.

 

 In the same way there are certain pubs that I don’t go to at certain times of the year and I wondered if this bent was instinctive. I had this on my mind as I went, with my girlfriend, to have a few unseasonable jars in Kehoe’s of South Anne Street.

 

I hadn’t been here for months. So I say unseasonable, because this famous pub, which sits just off Grafton Street, is a place that I associate with the winter months. It is a warm, welcoming and cosy pub, synonymous with Christmas and annual reunions. So I found it a bit odd coming here on a warm summer’s evening; a bit like a fish in the wrong waters. However, as we approached the flower-laden exterior, it dawned on me that I shouldn’t have felt that way.

 

  Around about the time RTE newscasters were getting ready to give us more doom and gloom recession news, we ambled through the rather relaxed crowd that was lapping up the sunshine underneath the pub’s well-known neon-sign and strolled into the bar, where punters anxiously watched the gee gees on the box. A convivial atmosphere is never far from this spot and this evening, albeit a Monday, was no different.

 

 We ordered our drinks, a pint of Guinness for myself at €4.60 and a Heineken for herself at €4.95(a bit hefty?), and headed straight for the snug- a small and comfortable room just off the main bar (mind your head).

 

As we sank into the small leather couch and chatted about the day’s events, we took in the atmosphere of the place that has given both of us quite a few memories, and blackouts, over the years. We both agreed that there has always been a good mix of people in here. Both country-folk and rugby jocks in their suits mix quite freely with the musos and arty types. All groups hang about on a Friday or Saturday night looking at themselves, and others, in the many mirrors that adorn the walls and the warm mahogany interiors.

 

For our second pint we went up the broad, creaky stairs to the living room area, which wasn’t too busy at all. Save for the very courteous barman and what seemed to be an admirer of his twirling her hair, we had only ourselves and framed calendars recalling Ireland’s sweet and sour history for company.

 

Half way through the pints we decided to go up to the smoking terrace -and it is just a terrace- where we spoke about the good weather and how it can transform this city. We spoke a little bit about whale migration too, until we figured it was time to eat.

 

“Fish and chips?” I suggested.

 

“Sounds good to me,” said my missus and we headed for the chipper, safe in the knowledge that Kehoe’s is a good spot all year round.

Celtic only manage draw

Bad start for the ‘tic against lowly Aalborg. Having missed a penalty in the first half and battering against a ten-man team for the last twenty minutes when the referee sent off the wrong player, the Scottish champions only managed a scoreless draw.

It’s going to be a hard slog now with games against Man U and Villareal. However it looks like they may draw against each other at Old Trafford tonight.

Either way Hail! Hail!

Irish author to write next Hitchhiker’s Guide

Eoin Colfer

It has been announced that Irish author Eoin Colfer will write the next instalment of ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’. The Wexford man, famous for his bestselling Artemis Fowl series for children, will write the sixth in the ‘Hitchhiker’s’ famous ‘trilogy’. It should be noted that when the fifth book came out, the guide was described as a trilogy told in five parts. And it appears it’s a trilogy that just keeps giving.

The sixth book in the series will be published in October by Penguin, and although nothing is known about the plotline, the title of the book has been announced and will be called ‘And another thing’.

This is obviously great news for fans of the ‘trilogy’ who could have reasonably expected that when the original author, Douglas Adams, died of a heart attack in 2001 at the age of 49 that the story died with him. Purists, however, may disagree.

‘The hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’ has sold 16million copies and has been translated into 35 languages since its original inception as a radio play in 1978.

*FOOTNOTE*

Eoin Colfer comes from an extremely talented family. His brother Niall is a rather handy musician (google him to find out more) and his father is considered a bit of a legendary historian down in Wexford.

Dublin Theatre Festival Preview – As published in September’s Temple Bar

The Cast of 'Black Watch'

By Jonathan deBurca Butler

In 1957 the Dublin Theatre festival opened with Tennessee William’s controversial ‘The Rose Tattoo’.  Garda reports at the time, spoke of some “objectionable passages” and scenes that were “lewd, vulgar and offensive”. Alan Simpson, who ran the Pike theatre with his wife Carolyn Swift, was arrested, somewhat bizarrely, after the show ended its run. The charges against him for his part in “producing for gain an indecent and profane performance”, were eventually dropped but his theatre was ruined and his marriage collapsed due to the pressures surrounding the bad publicity.

It is unlikely that such real life drama will be played out at this year’s festival, and unlikely the authorities, in an effort to protect our morals, end up ruining a marriage. But such is the rough and tumble world of the arts that you just never know.

 The line up for the 2008 Dublin Theatre festival may not prove to be as controversial as the inaugural festival. However, if the (allegedly) increasingly obese, soap-opera obsessed couch potatoes of this fair city decide to get up of their posteriors and go to see one or more of the plays on offer, they should be royally entertained.

Last year was a record year for the festival, taking in over €1million for the first time in its 51-year history. Attendances were up by twenty three per cent on 2006 and the organisers are hoping for a similar turnout this year. Inevitably, as with every sector of Irish life these days, the economy may have a part to play in the number of rumps on stools, but judging by the fact that Michael McDowell’s utopian café culture seems to be still thriving (heck not even the Italians know what all these different Italian coffees are), the festival organisers shouldn’t have too much to worry about.  

One reason to attend this years festival will be the appearance of Vanessa Redgrave in Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking. The production, which centres on a woman’s efforts to deal with the sudden death of her husband, is taking place at the Gaiety and is a massive coup for the festival, considering this is only one of three cities where the play is to be staged this year. The 71 year- old star, famous for her roles in films such as Blow up and Venus, has won acclaim for her powerful performance from both the media and her peers and tickets for this show are expected to go quickly.

 Other eyebrow raisers are plays and performances based on the work of Virginia Woolf (Waves), Fyodor Dostoevsky and F.Scott Fitzgerald(Gatz) as well as fresh interpretations of Albert Camus’ ‘Caligula’ and Beckett’s ‘Happy Days’.

But perhaps one of the most intriguing productions of this year’s festival is an adaptation of Franz Kafka’s freakishly dream-like short story ‘Metamorphosis’, a collaboration with Iceland’s Vesturport Theatre Production and the Lyric Hammersmith of London. This darkly decadent treat promises to be very physical and vibrant, using as it does climbing cables and a split stage to heighten the drama and tension; it also features music by Nick Cave and long-time collaborator Warren Ellis.

There are, of course, many home productions to choose from over the two-week period. The Gate Theatre, which is celebrating eighty years this year, is putting on Brian Friel’s new version of Henrik Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler.

Druid’s Irish premiere of Martin McDonagh’s The Cripple of Inishmaan directed by Garry Hynes- the first woman to win a Tony award for direction- takes to the stage at the Olympia from the 6^th October, while at the Helix Fishamble are doing a new play by Irish playwright Robert Massey called Rank, which deals with Dublin’s transformation over the last ten years. Including, I assume, our uncanny ability to mispronounce Bruschetta.

The National Theatre of Scotland’s production of Black Watch, based on interviews with soldiers from the regiment of the same name and their time in Iraq, will be staged at the RDS. Having just gone on a sell-out run in Edinburgh, this production is expected to get a lot of attention not least for its strong language and somewhat contentious if relevant subject matter.

 Mark Donford-May’s reworking of Mozart’s The Magic Flute moves the 18^th century opera to a modern township setting in South Africa and offers something a little different for supporters of opera.  CoisCéim Dance Theatre will present Dodgems transforming the O’Reilly Theatre in Belvedere College into a fairground where a real bumper track is the stage for the clashes of lives and personalities that take place during the show.

This year’s festival also includes some workshops and panel discussions. The pick of the bunch is Vanessa Redgrave in conversation Colm Tobin. Perhaps they’ll talk about the development of the lewd, vulgar and offensive in today’s theatre.

Whatever the topic of their discussion, like all the festival, it’s sure to be quite memorable.

By the way the prices vary quite a bit from €20 to €45 but there are student stand-by tickets from about a half hour before the show depending on availability and OAPs also get a discount. Bear in mind that if your booking they’ll charge you €2 per ticket, so book on the net.

Vanessa Redgrave

Be sure to come back September 30th for  a review of Metamorphosis

You really should see…

The Lives of Others (Germany 2006) Director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck

Before the Berlin Wall came tumbling down under the weight of accumulated frustrations and neighbourly envy, the secret police of the German Democratic Republic, known as the Stassi, had three hundred thousand informants and spies amongst its ranks.

 

Their goal, as the opening caption of this remarkable film tells us, was to “know everything”.

 

The ‘Lives of others’ tells the story of an informant, Wiesler, and his crisis of conscience as he listens into the life of writer, Georg Greyman.  Superiors tell the informant to track and monitor the everyday activities of the author-ostensibly to jail him for subversion, but in truth so the minister for culture can get to Greyman’s attractive girlfriend Christa-Maria Sieland. The informant proceeds to wire tap the author’s house and so we start down a tense alleyway of phantom cat and mouse.

 

The informant, a strict and loyal servant of his country, finds little on the pair in the way of wrongdoing. Indeed, Wiesler gradually finds himself disgusted by his superiors and their motives, and his loyalty soon switches. The results are tragic, yet worldly-making the film all the more poignant. There is no irrelevant drama here.

 

This is top class European cinema. What we see is what the people of East Germany dealt with everyday-so we can imagine that the events were half-expected. The narrative and the realistic performances of the actors create the tension. A fact compounded by an emotive but unemotional ending.

 

 

Bring us home the (Francis) Bacon – A citizen’s plea

Bacon’s studio in Hugh Lane Gallery Dublin

      Although Francis Bacon was born in Ireland, it is questionable how ‘Irish’ he felt. In order for a gay man of his talent to flourish, it was somewhat inevitable that he moved away from good old conservative and catholic Ireland to the flambouyant and happening London. When he left in body he also left in spirit and little reference is ever made of Ireland in his life beyond his teenage years.

         

          So when the great man’s studio was(fairly) recently given to the Hugh Lane Gallery in Dublin it was a real coup for the city. Not only did it give that gallery, which was already a great gallery, increased kudos; but it also allowed Dublin to reconnect with one of its own. To embrace one of its runaways. To cuddle him in its arms and say: “we knew you had it in you but we had to send you away.” (It’s also great for marketing obviously) 

         The only pity of it is, that there are really very few paintings by Bacon in the Gallery itself-and what is there is incomplete. The poor galleries of Ireland are unable to compete with the likes of enlightened, and clearly tasteful, football chairmen  such as Roman Abramovich who recently purchased a triptych by Bacon for an astronomical if not nearly comical amount of money.

        What I’m saying is, we need some more Bacon. Feed us the art, feed us!

       So, if anyone has a spare Francis Bacon piece lying about, please send it to Ireland. Thanks. To Adam Clayton(we know you collect the stuff): If you have any up in that attic of yours give us a lend of them for a while-share the wealth! And if anyone is mulling over what to do with their Bacons when they’ve gone to that great gallery in the sky. Leave them with us, we’ll look after them. And to the Tate: when your finished your Bacon exhibition over there, any chance you could ship the stuff over here? Just for a while even.

Please feel free to leave a comment

9/11- Seven years ago today- Where were you?

It was about half past four on a really hot day in Rome. I was leading a group of tourists along the Via Sacra in the Roman forum. Now if you know it at all, you’ll know it’s kind of in a valley. It’s like a little bowl down there, so it was really hot and the group were beginning to suffer.

There were only eight tourists that day as far as I can remember, all of them were from the U.S.A.- none of them New Yorkers. Everyone had had a pretty good time on the tour; the usual stuff about the ceasars and all their shenanigans seemed to go down well. They were a laid-back bunch, a nice group of Southeners.

As I was winding up the tour I noticed there was a kind of a commotion in the Forum, it was a particularly busy day but there seemed to be an inordinate amount of chatter ripping through the dusty site.

As I was thanking people, I noticed a slightly dodgy looking character leaning against a railing, watching us intently. He was standing, wearing shades and an open necked shirt, in the shade of a triumphal arch-that was built to honour the victories of Septemius Severus over the Parthians (present day Iran). He let me finish my speil and then approached us in a very calm fashion-I thought he was a cop for some reason.

“Are you American?”, he asked in a strong French accent.

“I’m not,” I replied, in a slightly,what do you want sort of a way. “But they are,” I said, pointing at the group of slightly baffled tourists.

“Well, I think I should tell you that a plane has just crashed into the World Trade Centre.”

I believe the Forum hadn’t witnessed such news for centuries.

Books in the Park

This Saturday September 13th a host of acclaimed Irish authors including Derek Landy and Marita Conlon McKenna take their books and their brilliance to Marlay Park for a free fun day for all the family. 

Books in the Park, is sure to be a lively day out, featuring a host of top authors and lots of other activities including face painters, jugglers, balloons andchildren’s entertainment.

 

If books aren’t your thing, there’s the ever-popular CoCo Market which produces delicious farmers fare.

 

In June, a similar event took place in Cabinteely Park and proved to be very popular.

 

Kick off is at 1pm and the authors will be there until 5pm. So go early to make sure you get the best of the food and meet the writers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Beggars Bush-A pint in the hand is worth two in the bush- By Jonathan deburca Butler – as published in Totally Dublin June 2008

Tasty pints

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

According to the Rough Guide, the Beggars Bush was considered by the British to be  “ a lawless area on the edge of Dublin.”  Things have changed a lot over the years and these days the price tags on houses are the only criminal element still resident in the borough.

      

        So right in the middle of this fairly affluent part of Dublin 4, it is heart-warming to find a boozer that doesn’t rob your eyes and come back for the lashes.

      

        When I told my Spanish mate Xavier that a pint of St. James’ Gate finest was only €3.80 in here he looked at me as if I had just told him I wanted his babies. Xavi, a newcomer to our shores, has no experience of that time, not so long ago, when any combination of drink, crisps, fags etc. cost less than a fiver. He has come to Ireland in an era when it is impossible to enter a bar with less than five bills in your pocket, unless your poison is Pringles.

       

          Go to the Beggars on Friday after work and the place is buzzing. The front courtyard is packed with all sorts: the young, the old, the pleasantly tipsy and the chilled observer.

        

           Inside is a nice, clean, simple bar that doesn’t seek approval. The pint is world class, poured expertly by a staff that are positively sound. The whole place has an atmosphere and smell of proper pub [The aroma of farts does not constitute a proper pub smell]. Add to that, that this is one establishment where the Celtic Mutt (eat that McWilliams) has yet to cock its capitalist leg to leave the foul stench of class division, and you have a classy classless classic Dublin pub. You’ll see the lads from the taxi trade exchanging pleasantries and banter with the chaps from the medical profession in here.

        

           I sat down with Alan and Noel, two regulars. They told me that the original owner’s family still runs the place.

      

           “That’s him up on the wall there,” said Noel pointing at one of the many photos that add a real sense of history to the place. “Jack Ryan.  He was from Tipperary originally.”

        

            Between them Noel and Alan went through a whole history of the place.

        

            “ They were going to build a concert hall here in the 60s and name it after JFK but the OPW ran out of money,” said Noel.

           

             “ Thanks be to Jaysus,” said Alan lifting his eyebrows over his glasses.

           

              I had to agree with Alan. The JFK Concert Hall instead of the Beggars Bush? Now that would have been criminal.

Broken Angel on William Street South

While I was out for a ramble the other day, I spotted this piece of work on William Street South in Dublin’s City centre. It struck me as very beautiful.

 It is quite a large piece and stands out as somewhat unusual for Dublin. It’s really rather poignant but I can’t decide if she’s frightened or seductive. She seems quite vulnerable but the size of it gives her an uncanny power.

It is done by a guy called Eelus who, it turns out, is from Wigan. His website tells us that he has been living in London for some time and is now a full time graphic artist.

Elbow win Mercury Prize

Five-piece Bury band Elbow have just been announced as this years winners of the Mercury Prize for their album ‘The Seldom Seen Kid’.

The band who have been around since 1990 are sure to see their album sales rocket over the coming months due to the award.

Most of the band are in their mid-thirties but were giggling like teenagers with disbelief after accepting the award… I think they were a smidgen pissed myself.

Well done to them.

You should see this…

All the President’s men (1976)

 

 The loud and unmistakeable clacking of a typewriter sinks its teeth into paper and audience in this wonderful movie’s opening scene.  We see some real footage of the veritable pageant surrounding Richard Nixon’s confident acceptance of the Republican Party nomination for the 1974 presidential race, which hints at this story’s ultimate result.  The camera pauses briefly, looks on and as if playing the part of history silently pans out from the television.

 

 Richard Nixon is however, a bit player in Alan J.Pakula’s “All the President’s men”, which I recently saw for the first time in an age. The story focuses on the partnership of journalists Bob Woodward (Redford) and Carl Bernstein (Hoffman) and their efforts to uncover what turned out to be the biggest political scandal of 20^th century American politics.

 

Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffmann are actors at the top of their profession here.  Playing the roles of the Washington Post’s most (in) famous hacks in a beautifully understated fashion.

 

There is little sentiment in their relationship, which could inevitably lead to a degree of macho-coolness. However, neither actor allows himself become overly slick, meaning the movie stays centred on the story and not the stars. 

 

The monumentality of that story is alluded to in a scene close to the start of the movie when Woodward and Bernstein find themselves working through a mass of library cards in search of a lead.

 

We see an overhead shot of the two as they begin their task. The camera gradually pulls up towards the ceiling revealing the huge ornate floor of the central library. There, just as the Woodstein partnership begins, the pattern on the floor reminds the audience of the maze of intrigue and danger awaiting the reporters.

 

On this occasion music is used to amplify their isolation. In general, however, Pakula deliberately allows the noisy and bright newsroom of the Washington Post to contrast with the dark and quiet scenes in which the journalists meet their understandably nervous sources.

 

Music, although understated, is again used on each of the occasions Woodward goes to meet his mysterious contact “Deep throat”. Added tension is subtly created by the odd bang and clatter amongst the shadows of the stark and echoey car park, where Woodward discusses the crumbs of information he has with the phantom that many have seen as the key to this whole story.

 

 “Deep throat’s” part, however, is justifiably overshadowed by the work of the journalists. They move from contact to contact, often hitting dead ends but are stirred by their conviction and the support of their editor Ben Bradlee, played in Oscar winning fashion by Jason Robards.

 

After a series of perceived breakthroughs and definite failures their moment comes and the dominoes start to fall.

 

We go back to the clacking typewriter, which confirms what we already know and the movie ends with a single shot.

 

In the foreground we see a television on which a re elected Nixon accepts his latest appointment while in the background the focussed journalists load guns with their fingertips.

 

We see guns fire into the air celebrating Nixon’s return but so clearly symbolising his downfall. Woodward and Bernstein remain focused on the story while history looks on.