“This is a play that is made by the tension built by the actors on stage – unfortunately, this tension feels very manufactured and almost hollow”
Patriotism, religion and masculinity. These are up for dissection in Owen McCafferty’s ‘Quietly’. A pub in Northern Ireland – one like any other – is the scene of two gentlemen meeting. Their lives are separate, apart from one harrowing event in history. One that neither of them can change, but can they resolve and forgive?
The script is cutting and very raw. Raw in the sense that it presents very violent and disturbing images in a forward way, so that we as an audience cannot avoid the dark part of history he is trying to explore. Lighting (Amy Daniels) is understated but elegant, shifting purposefully with moments of the play throughout. The sound design (Rachael Murray) with the incorporation of sounds from technology and the brilliant use of voice-overs as a way of telling various parts of the story, is inspired.
Overall Matt Dunphy (Robert), Paul Lloyd (Jimmy) and Nick Danan (Ian) do a decent job in presenting the text to us in a lively sort of way. This is a play that is made by the tension built by the actors on stage – unfortunately, this tension feels very manufactured and almost hollow.
What hinders the play is the rushed pacing and the lack of silences. The actors seem almost too eager to get their lines in, which caused some running over each other and some stumbles. Ultimately, this ruined the lasting effect this show could’ve had. It would be better to let this show breathe a bit, let the tension build with a few more awkward silences (there is room for plenty) and for the actors trust what has been given to them.
Direction (James O’Donnell) is lacking. Two out of three lead performances felt very simple and one-dimensional. The one that does shine is that of Dunphy who is gifted with some wonderful humour through his track. He delivers in the moments he is utilised and it’s a shame that he isn’t used more.
I’m not saying that ‘Quietly’ is a bad show, but it’s not a good show either. It is distinctly average but has the potential to be great. With a few tweaks here and there, this could be a strong piece that really packs a punch. I hope that one day it does reach its potential because the material deserves it, the story deserves it.
Reviewed by Shaun Dicks
Photography by Stephanie Claire
Quietly
Omnibus Theatre until 27th October as part of the Irish Season
“the audience would have been better served with a tighter script”
The Soul of Wittengenstein is a dramatic imagining of the philosopher’s time spent working, incognito, as a porter in a London hospital in WWII. The playwright, Ron Elisha, introduces the character John Smith, an illiterate navvy who is a patient in the hospital, and charts the development of a surprising but profound friendship between the two men. Within this simplest of plot lines, we are also treated to a whistle-stop tour of War and Peace, and some of the salient points of Wittgenstein’s linguistic philosophy.
The play begins with a beautiful and revealing silent movement sequence from Richard Stemp, as Wittgenstein, underscored by a perfectly chosen sonata for cello and piano. The left side of the stage is barely lit, but we are aware of an inhabited hospital bed. This opening, showing the deft directorial hand of Dave Spencer that is present throughout, perfectly sets the tone of the piece. Compliments are due here to Rachael Murray (Sound), Clancy Flynn (Lighting) and Mayou Trikerioti (Set) for terrific production design, in which the sound, the lighting and the set continually worked together in subtle harmony.
Richard Stemp ably embodied the capricious philosopher, described by Bertrand Russell as ‘the most perfect example I have ever known of genius as traditionally conceived; passionate, profound, intense, and dominating’. Wittgenstein, as seen here, is not immediately likeable – he is pedantic and emotionally disconnected – and it is testament to Stemp’s skill that we warm to the man as the play unfolds. Ben Woodhall gave a wonderful and utterly believable performance as John Smith. His naive charm and essential humanity were on display throughout and provided the perfect counterpoint to Stemp’s tightly-held genius. He also maintained an excellent Cockney accent of the period. It was just a shame that this was occasionally marred by errors in the writing of the slang. Cockney rhyming slang works as a code because the rhyming part of the phrase remains unspoken, hence ‘plates of meat’ (feet) becomes ‘plates’; ‘apples and pears’ (stairs) becomes ‘apples’ etc. Other than ‘brown bread’ (dead) – a notable exception – this is how it works. John’s relationship to Wittgenstein’s ‘dickie birds’ (words) is central to the play, and it therefore seemed odd that they weren’t the ‘dickies’ they should have been.
The play’s relationship with words, as a whole, presented problems. Wittgenstein’s character, as well as the nature of his philosophical enquiries, is predicated on linguistic play and precision; thus not innately theatrical. For this reason, the play lacked pace; the audience would have been better served with a tighter script and twenty minutes taken off the running time. That being said, the high quality of the acting, directing and production design led to an enjoyable, and occasionally moving, evening at the theatre.
