One of my top non-scientific goals for this very scientific trip to Ireland was to see some authentic Irish theater. I’m not going to claim to be an actor of any true merit, but I happened to join some plays throughout my four years of high school—so at the very least, I have developed a love for theater. As one could imagine, I was getting a bit nervous when we entered the last week of our time here in Ireland without having seen a play. My wish was granted this past Sunday when we traveled to Rossmore, Clonakilty to see the Kilmeen Drama Group put on It’s the Real McCoy. It chronicles the return of a husband to his wife forty-three years after leaving without warning. The (very justified) bitterness of the wife, Madge Molloy, spills out onto her daughter, neighbors, and even the new parish curate in town. Thus, what ensues is a comedic storyline that becomes progressively sillier and more full of slapstick humor—right up the alley of someone like me who grew up watching re-runs of The Three Stooges. |
The evening definitely got off to the right start when they played the Irish National Anthem before the play. I wanted an Irish experience, and it doesn’t get more authentic than hearing an auditorium of people sing “Amhrán na bhFiann” (especially considering I always tear up during the singing of any national anthem). Once the show started, I was initially impressed with the detail of the set: a working sink in the wall, two windows with space on the other side to represent “outside,” and the rectangular-shaped faded marks on the wall when an old picture was taken off of it. At one point, through one of the windows, I even saw a butterfly flying past “outside,” although I imagine that was just a nice coincidence. One thing that confused me was the choice of putting a picture of John F. Kennedy on the wall above the stove. Perhaps it was because he was the only Catholic president in U.S. history, but I don’t know to what extent the average 1960s Irish person cared about that.
Something that deserves special recognition (pay attention, American theater “higher-ups”) is that tea was served during the first intermission. Just about everybody filed out of the theater and into a gathering hall where one could grab a nice cup of tea (or other beverages of choice). Not surprisingly, the amount of mingling, slapping of arms, and boisterous laughter suggested these people all knew each other. This, of course, is the Ireland I was hoping to see: a small town feeling, with no one in a hurry, getting together and laughing over the oddities of Irish culture—whether it’s the unmatched importance of a turf spade or the double standard of the insult-repent-repeat Catholic. And, in classic Irish fashion, the conclusion of the play (and the night) was capped by a sobering, but still happy ending that brought everything together into a strong narrative. If one thing is certain, it’s the infectious nature of sitting in an auditorium full of West Cork residents while watching a play unfold. I left that place feeling sociable, silly, yet deeply introspective.
Until next time,
Ryan Jiorle
Something that deserves special recognition (pay attention, American theater “higher-ups”) is that tea was served during the first intermission. Just about everybody filed out of the theater and into a gathering hall where one could grab a nice cup of tea (or other beverages of choice). Not surprisingly, the amount of mingling, slapping of arms, and boisterous laughter suggested these people all knew each other. This, of course, is the Ireland I was hoping to see: a small town feeling, with no one in a hurry, getting together and laughing over the oddities of Irish culture—whether it’s the unmatched importance of a turf spade or the double standard of the insult-repent-repeat Catholic. And, in classic Irish fashion, the conclusion of the play (and the night) was capped by a sobering, but still happy ending that brought everything together into a strong narrative. If one thing is certain, it’s the infectious nature of sitting in an auditorium full of West Cork residents while watching a play unfold. I left that place feeling sociable, silly, yet deeply introspective.
Until next time,
Ryan Jiorle