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.

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

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.