“A Whistle in the Dark I wrote on Friday and Saturday nights with my feet up on in the kitchen- I used to notice that my jaw was frequently clenched- there was some sort of rage within me.”
-Tom Murphy
Some sort of rage is what governs this entire play: a wild, bloody ferocity that manifests itself in word and deed, swallowing up all goodness, all hope, until only weary and wounded monsters remain, bearing teeth and tears as the lights go down.
But let’s back up a bit. A Whistle in the Dark is the second part of Druid Theatre Company’s ambitious revival project, DruidMurphy, or what could loosely be dubbed ‘The Tom Murphy Emigration Trilogy’. Organised and executed by the indomitable Garry Hynes, with a rotating cast of some of Ireland’s finest stage actors, the three plays tell the story of Irish emigration from different perspectives (those who went and those who were left behind), and different eras (from the Great Hunger of the 1840s in Famine, to Whistle‘s green-stained Coventry of the early 1960s, and back to the stagnant pub snugs of 1970s rural Ireland for Conversations on a Homecoming). Their co-habitation- against the current backdrop: this frenetic 21st century incarnation of that most beloved of Irish last resorts- represents a significant declaration of the importance of Murphy’s work in the artistic chronicling of this nation. The collective Irish psyche is, for good or ill, stalked by emigration. It is our calling card, our national pastime, our original sin; and no one writes it like Murphy.
“It’s up to a man to fit into a place. Otherwise, you might as well stay at home…”
-Michael
Whistle begins softly, with Mayo exile Michael Carney (Marty Rea) and English wife, Betty (Eileen Walsh), discussing the recent arrival (though ‘infestation might be a more apt description) of his three rough-and-ready brothers into their home, as well as the impending visit of the final, youngest brother, Des, to Coventry- father and uber-patriarch ‘Dada’ in tow. The cracks appear early, widening to fissures as each new Carney appears on stage: sneering bruiser Hugo, stuttering man-mountain Iggy, sinister Harry and, with the last of his black flock, the sermonising time bomb that spawned this volatile bunch. They talk of fights: past encounters, a vendetta against another local clan, whether a broken bottle is an acceptable weapon (after a brief round table discussion, ‘yes’ is the final judgement) and all the while Michael’s unease, his sense of otherness, spreads through the room like fog. A pacifist, a white collar family man in-training, the first to abandon home and never return: he is the antithesis of everything papa Carney lionises in his boys. Yet Michael cannot bring himself to cut these people out of his life. He wants to save his brothers, to retrieve their lost humanity. But there is also a desperate self-interest to this tethering. He needs to exist in both worlds, and can belong to neither. Wounded by their jeers, their raw physicality, their unity at his expense, yet too afraid to either stand up to these dogs, or lie down alongside them, Michael craves a balance that will never be. More pressingly, in Des, he sees the chance to prevent another rabid incarnation of the worst in his family’s nature. By the end of their first dinner together in over ten years- one which culminates in a red-faced Dada taking off his belt and driving Michael from his own home- chaos has supplanted civility, and the naivety of this hope becomes starkly apparent.
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From here on out there is only violence: violence of thought, of action, of sentiment. The perverted logic of tribalism drowns all reason and restraint. Michael crumbles, Betty ties in vain to assert some order, the Carneys prepare for a showdown with this month’s sworn enemies, and around the breaking of glass, the swinging of boot and fist, there is a relentless stream of cruelty- toward Michael, toward Betty, toward each other- that seems constantly on the brink of overpowering the audience, only to be diffused with splash after splash of dark humour.
“Long years have now passed since with hearts full of sorrow
The land of the Shamrock we left far behind;
But how we would like to go back there to-morrow;
To the scenes of our youth, which we still bear in mind;
The days of our childhood, it’s now we recall them
They cling to our vision wherever we go;
And the friends of our youth we will never forget them
They too ar exiled from the County MayoSo boys pull together in all kinds of weather
Don’t show the white feather wherever you go
Be like a brother and help one another
Like true hearted men from the County Mayo”-The Boys of the County Mayo
The direction, as you would expect, is faultless. The performances are all superb, and need to be. With a text so raw with grief and poisonous anger, no half measures will suffice, and none are given. Particular credit must go to Niall Buggy whose Dada is a tyrant of volcanic fury, sly pontification, and hilarious asides, inspiring a pendulous reaction of fear and amusement. Amongst his sons, it is breathtaking to witness an actor inhabit a character as completely as Aaron Monaghan does Harry. Every tick and cock of the head, every pronouncement and dead-eyed stare, are thoroughly chilling. Harry is a sadist. He lives to exploit and brutalise. He rails against the “clever fellas”, the pathetic domesticity of their grand aspirations- his forever flinching eldest brother, the teachers who took the piss out of him back home in Mayo- yet he, above all others, has moulded the world in which they now live, and done it knowingly. Harry reigns in hell, and relishes it.
But even to call it hell seems a step too pejorative, too simplistic. This world is real. It lies at the intersection between reality and grotesquerie but it is still real, recognisable. The poisoned family dynamics, the bilious versions of both home and adopted land, the bitterness that goes all the way to the marrow- these are the tropes of Irish emigrant nightmares; but they are waking nightmares.
A ferocious parable that will leave you bruised and breathless.
Venue: The Gaiety Theatre
Dates: Oct 3, 6, 7, 10 & 13
Times: Oct 6, 7 & 13, 3.30pm / Oct 3 & 10, 7.30pm
Tickets: 20-35€
Booking Info: 01 6778899/ http://dublintheatrefestival.com/programme/display.asp?Eventid=617&m=
Elsewhere…
“the acting is of a quality to leave you dumbstruck with admiration: visceral, precise and saturated with raw wit and honest feeling, it represents ensemble work of the highest order.”
“Murphy captures perfectly is the rootlessness of the myth-making Carneys. Niall Buggy also gives a mesmerising performance as the raging bull of a father who turns out to be a hollow sham.”
“Murphy’s dialogue is exquisitely wrought, and under Hynes’ assured guidance the cast delivers it with an urgent, almost thumping momentum.”
“Niall Buggy is outstanding…Aaron Monaghan’s portrayal as Harry is likewise arresting.”
Tweet Tweet…
The power of Druid. My chest was hollow. A Whistle in the Dark is a master class in Theatre. #DruidMurphy #dtf12 @garryhynes
— Danielle Ryan (@tearneck) October 3, 2012
@druidtheatre Whistle in the Dark easily the best thing I’ve seen in the theatre in a long time. Faith restored! Dare I say faultless.
— Meadhbh McHugh (@MeadhbhGalway) October 7, 2012
Was at A Whistle in the Dark last night @druidtheatre and I’d highly recommend it.Superb cast& production!can’t wait for my next instalment.
— Eimear Morrissey (@Eims_m) October 4, 2012