The Mountains Look Different

B-

Jonathan Bank, Mint Theater Company’s artistic director and excavator of neglected plays, has unearthed yet another play that was a hit in Dublin but never made to America. This time it is an 1948 melodrama by Micheal mac Liammoir, co-founder of the illustrious Gate Theater, about Bairbre (Brenda Meaney; Indian Ink, Incognito), a woman from the west of Ireland who returns home, newly married, after 13 hard years in London. Her naive husband Tom (Jesse Pennington; Uncle Vanya, Bootycandy), whom she truly seems to love, is unaware that, having no skill for domestic work, she was forced to support herself as a prostitute. Tom’s crusty father Martin (Con Horgan; The Beauty Queen of Leenane), a farmer, takes an immediate dislike to Bairbre and claims to have met her before. The bad blood between the two of them escalates to a dangerous level. The action is set on St. John’s Eve, a pre-Christian fertility invocation marked by building bonfires. We also meet Bairbre’s uncle Matthew Conroy (Paul O’Brien; Is Life Worth Living?); Bartley (Daniel Marconi), Martin’s impudent servant; Bridin (McKenna Quigley Harrington), a young girl; Maire (Cynthia Mace; Skintight), an old woman with a troubled grandson, Batty Wallace (Liam Forde; Much Ado about Nothing); and a priest (Ciaran Byrne; The Dead 1904). After a solid first act, things go somewhat awry after intermission. The introduction of four new characters late in the play dissipates the claustrophobia that was building up. The drama rapidly turns into melodrama. The strongest reason to see the play is the riveting performance by Ms. Meaney. One feels her pain. The other two principals do not fare as well. Mr. Horgan is insufficiently menacing as Martin. Mr. Pennington does not seem to have a grasp of Tom’s character; his movements are strangely crablike and he barely opens his mouth when he speaks. Vicki R. Davis’s (The Suitcase under the Bed) opening set of a stone farmhouse exterior with a mountain vista in the background turns around to reveal the main room of the farmhouse. Andrea Varga’s (The Suitcase under the Bed) costumes fit the characters very well. The lighting design by Christian DeAngelis (Hinkle Wakes) is an asset to the production. Director Aidan Redmond’s direction seemed choppy at times. The play is an interesting curiosity but not a must-see. Running time: two hours including intermission.

NOTE: The program contains an extended note on the life of the author that make him seem worthy of his own biographical drama. In addition to co-founding the Gate, he was esteemed as an actor, playwright, set designer and painter. He and Gate co-founder Hilton Edwards were prominent as a gay couple long before that was fashionable or even legal. Finally, 12 years after his death, it was revealed that the ultra-Irish mac Liammoir was actually Alfred Willmore, an Englishman whose love of things Irish led him to transform himself into an Irishman. 

The Suitcase under the Bed

C

The Mint Theater is to be commended for their ambitious efforts to renew interest in Teresa Deevy, an Irish playwright whose career had some success in the mid 1930’s. I did not see the three full-length plays they have presented since 2010, so I cannot judge how representative these four one-act plays are of her work. I did not find any of them fully satisfying. Marriage or the prospect thereof plays a part in each play. “Strange Birth” is little more than a brief character sketch that ends just as it is getting interesting. “In the Cellar of My Friend” was the most self-contained piece, but the characters were cliched and the situation unconvincing. “Holiday House” seemed like the first act of an abandoned play that attempted to blend Shaw with Coward. “The King of Spain’s Daughter” is grittier than the others, but the relationships among the characters were confusing. The production is admirable. The cast of seven (Ellen Adair, Gina Costigan, Sarah Nicole Deaver, Cynthia Mace, Aidan Redmond, Colin Ryan and A.J. Shively) is strong. Their Irish accents were mostly convincing. One of the main pleasures of the evening is to see them play multiple roles. Before the second and fourth plays, one of the actors recites a poem with a verse that contains the title of the play that follows. The costumes by Andrea Varga and wigs are very good. The sets by Vicki R. Davis are modest, but attractive. Jonathan Bank’s direction is leisurely. The praise Mint’s earlier productions of Deevy’s plays received may have set me up for disappointment. Perhaps some manuscripts are left in a suitcase under the bed for a reason. Running time: two hours 20 minutes including intermission.