Premiered in 1964, Brian
Friel’s acclaimed account of a young Irish lad on the eve of his departure for
a new life in the United States reveals both a reluctant fondness for - and
frustration with - the country of his birth.
25 year old Gar has lived in
the fictional village of Ballybeg with his long-widowed father and their old housemaid
Madge (excellent Valerie Lilley) since he was a baby. But instead of the close
bond one might have expected between father and son, a numbing cloak of silence
and predictably repetitive exchanges typify their daily exchanges both at home
and at work in their dry -goods store.
Small surprise, then, that
Gar converses instead to the voice inside his head – the private Gar (passionate,
magnetic Rory Keenan) with his restless, uncensored thoughts. Cleverly, Friel
puts both Gars on stage. It’s a rewarding device which both enlivens the
proceedings and turns the outwardly restrained Gar in Public (Paul Reid) into a
fully three dimensional character as he says goodbye to his drinking pals with
their exaggerated tales of nights on the tiles and to the wealthy local girl he
might have married if only he’d listened to Gar in Private spurring him on to
ask for her hand.
James Hayes exudes a
deep-seated mournfulness as his taciturn da, incapable –even during their final
meal together – of expressing the paternal affection he undoubtedly feels, and
Lyndsey Turner’s accomplished production, with the Gars dressed like identical
twins, allows the humour as well as the sadness to shine through in this
touching revival.
Donmar to 22nd September
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