Reviews

There's nothing inherently funny about terrorism, torture or the execution of cats. All are brutal acts. And when you realize you've just spent 90 minutes laughing about them, it is sobering. But still very funny. And such thought-provoking contradictions are doubtless exactly what playwright Martin McDonagh had in mind when he wrote his savage farce The Lieutenant of Inishmore, now playing at The Gladstone.

Hilariously mounted by SevenThirty Productions, the play satirizes political violence and nationalism by turning those sobre subjects into a cartoon-like show riddled with blood, gore and impossible characters. And while the storyline is about a witless bunch of Irish independence fighters, it could be about any terrorist group: Self-absorption, lust for blood and power, and abject stupidity are no more Irish preserves than Wylie Coyote's obsessiveness is an American one.

Padraic (Rory Lavelle) is the play's title character. A man with a low flashpoint whose fashion sense runs to chain-accessorized leather and a large shamrock on his back, Padraic is the self-styled lieutenant of a blundering gang - well, OK, a twosome consisting of his father Donny (Scott Florence) and young Davey (Zach Counsil) - that's hell bent on home-rule.

Padraic's wildly incompetent, reduced to bombing fish and chip shops because targets any larger elude his strategic capability. He's also a skilled torturer, yanking toenails off a drug dealer named James (played by Steve Martin) for selling his wares to children, but then - in one of those attention deficit moments that Lavelle plays up so naturally in Padraic - offering his victim bus fare so he can get medical treatment. When Padraic's beloved cat Wee Thomas is killed, he goes ballistic. The play's climactic bloodbath, done in glorious, over-the-top Monty Python style, is the result.

Along the way, there's also an absurd love interest involving Padraic and Mairead (Kate Smith), a tempestuous, gun-toting nationalist whose alternate career choice would be diva. And we mustn't forget the Keystone Cops-like trio that's a rival to Padraic's merry band. Played by Richard Gélinas, Brenhan McKibben and David Whiteley, they plot and scheme to their own ultimate regret.

Now, are there really that many degrees of separation between that narrative and the latest bit of real-life terrorist activity?

There were no audience gasps of horror at the blood and carnage at The Gladstone Saturday night, as there reportedly have been in other cities, although there were a few faces that couldn't decide whether to grimace or grin. That's probably because director John P. Kelly has opted to tip the show toward the outlandish, leaving the real-life implications to our imagination. One way or the other, Kelly's done a fine job of getting the message across that terrorism is funny. But not really.

Presenter: So tell me about Iron

Alvina Ruprecht: Iron was something else. This was a play that was a big hit in Britain. It's by Scottish playwright Rona Munro, and what I saw at Arts Court the other night showed me that director John Kelly has reached new heights of directorial skill with this absolutely gut-wrenching production of Munro's play. For me, he and Peter Hinton (National Arts Centre) are now the most interesting English language directors in Ottawa. If Kelly had Hinton's budget, who knows what he would do it, I mean probably he'd go to great heights because he works on a shoestring and he still produces excellent plays.

P: So what happens in this one?

A: Well, Josie comes to visit her mum, who's in prison for life for murder. Through their subsequent meetings we learn about each of them, their past comes pouring out, their relationship with their dad and husband - the encounter is almost like a psycho-drama where each character discovers something about herself in this tough confrontation with the other person. And this could appear boring and simple, because really nothing happens... they're sitting there in the prison talking to each other - but it isn't at all. There's also the uncomfortable relationship between the two guards to consider. They hover around like vultures, watching and waiting to pounce. There's Josie's past that has to be recovered, because she can't remember anything about her father. And there's Fay, the mother, who can't bring herself to consider any circumstances because she is so driven with guilt - and so completely submerged in this prison atmosphere and this prison universe that she becomes so very, very self-destructive. So it becomes a cocktail that's purely explosive. It isn't pretty, but it is world-class theatre.

P: World class theatre... That's high praise indeed, Alvina.

A: Well, absolutely. I don't say that often here, but this is really it! Another big surprise is the acting. Margo MacDonald, whom we know with Company of Fools, gives a very serious performance of a very high quality here, she's wonderful. And Colleen Sutton who plays Josie is right up there, even though she has less experience, and director Kelly has harmonized their performances so you don't feel the gap between them at all. It's also enhanced by Evo Valentik's beautiful set that flows horizontally across the stage suggesting prying prison eyes, peering eyes from between the slats and strange movements from the back under an eerie glow of David Magladry's lighting design. I was moved to tears. It's a superb production. Don't miss Iron. It's excellent!

If you want to know how prison can corrode a person, watch Fay. Furtive eyes, a mouth twisted with cynicism, arms clamped across her chest: this woman expects nothing good from the world, even less from herself. And if it's how emotional incarceration can devastate a life, look at Josie. Knees clenched together when she sits, torso rigid, purse clasped protectively against her: she may be a successful business woman, but her interior bank account is overdrawn.

Fay and Josie are the centerpieces of Rona Munro's prison drama Iron, which SevenThirty Productions has mounted in compelling fashion at Arts Court Theatre. The story follows the two as they build a difficult relationship that offers doors through those prison walls.

Scornful of all around her, Fay (Margo MacDonald) has spent the past 15 years in prison for murdering her husband. When her 25-year-old daughter Josie (Colleen Sutton), whom she hasn't seen since her sentencing, appears at the prison wanting to see her, Fay is plunged into turmoil. She may be starved for human connection, but she's also riddled with self-hatred, despair and guilt for having abandoned her daughter.

Josie, a globetrotting beauty whose stoppered emotions have led her into dysfunctional relationships with men, is as hungry and fearful as her mother: she's here to reclaim the childhood memories that will restore her identity, but she has no idea how to approach this distant, damaged woman.

Under director John P. Kelly, the two engage in a complex dance. First one leads, then the other. Fay's eyes glow as she latches on to Josie's descriptions of clubs, foreign cities, non-prison food; Josie lunges toward Fay's stories of their pre-prison life together like a drowning woman. They connect, but then withdraw. Thanks to strong performances by both MacDonald and Sutton, we, like their characters, are kept a little off-balance. And lurking always is the spectre of the murder: Did Fay do it? If so, why? Did she love her husband?

Moving around and into this blossoming, ultimately impossible relationship are the prison guards played by Brian Stewart and Kate Smith. The glimpsed dreams and ordinary domestic lives of the two make a powerful counterpoint to the central action.

Set designer Ivo Valentik underscores that action with a prison that hammers home confinement while suggesting the freedom beyond it. Wonderfully realized, the set is enhanced by David Magladry's lighting, a mix of cold reality and warm possibility.

The play eschews a Hollywood conclusion. But when Fay grips that stone at the end, you know she and Josie have found something to hang on to.

Lately I've come to understand why people don't like going to the theatre. It really is a lot of effort to get yourself ready for an evening out. You usually have to find a date to go with you - more often than not somebody who isn't a "theatre person" - and get all prepared for a couple hours of engaging with a piece of theatre you might not even like. When you see a movie, you can tune out (or make out) with the person next to you, and enjoy munching on popcorn until it's over. But when you're seeing a play, everything is right in front of you - there's no escaping it. So when it's bad, it's really bad.

Lately I've been seeing a lot of mediocre plays, with very few exceptions. But even then I start nit-picking at the director's mistakes, flaws in the script, miscast actors. I'm a critical person, and I see a lot of theatre, so sometimes it's difficult for me to truly enjoy myself. Often it feels like work. Or I feel that I have to be enthusiastic because, hey, that's what I do: I'm enthusiastic about the arts.

This afternoon - and I'm getting to the point now - I didn't have to fake it. Over an hour after seeing Seven Thirty Productions' Iron, my head is still buzzing; my hands are shaky and my mouth is dry. My forehead is tense trying to keep myself from tearing up.

And that is what good theatre should do.

Okay, you probably want to know why I liked it so much. And I'm going to tell you. First a quick plot synopsis is in order: Fay (Margo MacDonald) has been in jail for 15 years for the murder of her husband. Her first visitor in all this time is her daughter (Colleen Sutton) who has no memories of her childhood, and wants to finally get to know her mother and get some answers. Their discussions are always under the watchful eye of two prison guards (Kate Smith and Brian Stewart).

I was a little wary of the premise because it sounded like it could be a touch melodramatic. Fortunately Scottish playwright Rona Munro seems to have done her research on the intricacies of women's prisons. She also knows a lot about people. While she focuses mostly on Fay and her daughter, all the characters are fascinating, surprising, and very well-developed. My mind snapped when the prison guards started talking about their home life in such detail; you almost forgot they had tender lives outside the prison, especially considering their harsh treatment of Fay.

Speaking of Fay, I have seen Margo in a lot of comic roles over the years. And she is very good at sparking laughter and playing caricatures. But in this role, she is pure magic. I could not take my eyes off of her. Her little nervous movements when she meets her daughter for the first time; her excitement living vicariously through her daughter's social life; her desperation to not upset the prison guards for fear of being punished -- all this done with an air of theatrical majesty. Yet she made it look so simple. She could play the character as strong and powerful, and still give her moments of being a frightened animal. This role was made for Margo. The Rideau Awards should definitely hit this one up.

Colleen was a very stage good partner for Margo. She really brought across her growing attachment for her mother. And the switch from a prim and proper business woman to a determined activist was seamless. I have seen Colleen in a few roles lately, and she does seem to just play herself sometimes (possibly the result of typecasting). Thankfully "herself" is very engaging and lovely to watch. You could see her living this character and loving every minute of it. At one point she feeds her weakened mother some pieces of chocolate, and the effect was heartbreaking.

But of course that little set-up was likely the result of some bang-on directing. John P. Kelly isn't the type of the director who gives himself an obvious presence in his productions. There's nothing showy about what he does. But like Elia Kazan, the man knows how to work with actors. He knows how to cast and he knows how to coach. He brought some lovely performances out both the leading ladies. And that is something to admire in a director.

He also did a great job setting up Kate and Brian as the prison guards. Such hard-hitting characters. Kate, especially, is a lovely looking person, but she was positively frightening in this role. It made me super uncomfortable watching them handle Fay -- but in a good way, in a "this is making me feel something I've never felt before" kind of way.

The stage was set up in three parts: the waiting area at stage right, the visitors' room at centre, and Fay's cell at stage left - with a little garden/outdoor area downstage. The transitions were very smooth (no need for obnoxious blackouts between scenes) and there was no distracting split focus from the different areas. The set itself was designed and built by architect Ivo Valentik: WOW. Somebody hire him again. It consisted of layers of wooden pannelling with spaces in between, so nothing was hidden from you. Like the impression that you were always being watched. It was domineering, yet didn't distract from the action onstage. Also fabulous lighting from David Magladry in the dramatic parts.

Final words? I have not seen a play this good in months. Maybe a year. The last one might have been Kafka and Son at last year's Fringe Festival. Anyway, I walked out of Iron feeling positively buzzed. This production is tight. It's meaningful. It will inspire you. This is the type of theatre we should be seeing in Ottawa. In fact, some of the "bigger" theatre companies should take a hint.

Have I said enough? Go see this play. It plays until Saturday.

Ottawa Morning - Theatre with Alvina Ruprecht

So Alvina, let us talk about this play... Molly Sweeney by Brian Friel.

Alvina: Well, first of all it's a production by SevenThirty Theatre. It's directed by John P. Kelly, whose work is always exciting. This is an intimate and very disturbing work by the excellent Irish playwright Brian Friel, whose work often deals with the consequences of colonialism on the island's population. Molly Sweeney relates to a type of a person at a much deeper level - three voices here perform three monologues around a single event and that event concerns an operation on Molly Sweeney's eyes to restore her sight - Ms. Sweeney has been blind since the age of ten months.

Presenter: And whom do those voices represent?

Alvina: First of all there's Doctor Rice, played by John Collins and he's excited because he knows he can make her see and he's going to make medical history, which is more interesting to him. However, he's also touched by Molly's courage and in his own mind there's a special bond between the two of them because of a past experience with his own wife. And then there's her husband Frank Sweeney played by Jerome Bourgault and he wants her to have the operation, but he realises she could have trouble adapting to the new world, where touch and sound and smell become something visible. But to hide his fears, he becomes totally obsessed with his own world, to the point where he seems to lose touch with Molly. There's something very weak about this man and he becomes very frantic. And then there's Molly herself, played by Kel Parsons. Now, neither of these men understands what's happening inside Molly's head and it is inside her head that the tragedy takes place.

Presenter: OK, now help me understand what would be so tragic about this, because it seems to me to be pretty positive, given that she would have sight.

Alvina: That's right, but the thing is to see it from her point of view. And the thing is that Molly has become very comfortable in her blind world. They don't understand this, the other two men - and the author uses the poetry of Robert Service to show that the images conjure up a world where she is very comfortable. She talks the ??? of Sam McGrew. Her world has found its own internal order. And now suddenly, they are going to open her eyes and force her to relearn the world around her. And that's and almost impossible change and this destroys the order she has created for herself - and I won't tell you anymore because I don.t want to spoil it... And this new consciousness of a world she cannot fully understand has tragic consequences for her. And the performances are actually very extraordinary and they sold it very well.

Presenter: All right, tell me about the performances.

Alvina: Well, Kel Parsons is Molly - and for me, was a great discovery. She's the strongest of all the characters and the actress exudes an inner peace and a calm and an authority in a very physical way. Parsons shows she's the most grounded of them all and she's very moving at the end when her world capsizes - a very, very good performance.

John Collins in the doctor, a very good mixture of arrogance, nostalgia, longing and sadness. Jerome Bourgault, as Frank the husband, played a neurotic and frantic creature who created a lot of nervous tension - he also tended to fluff his lines a bit and lose his Irish accent from time to time - which was a bit distracting.

Presenter: I guess it was. So eh nothing's perfect. So how close to perfect was this?

Alvina: No, it wasn't perfect - there were some good moments, but the most serious problem I think was the speeding. Director John Kelly tries to make the play work through the ears, much the way that blind Molly relates to her world. Everything comes through the voice, the tone, the pauses, the rhythms - it is almost as though it were a radio play, which it wasn't - I found that out later. So there’s no action on stage - none. They stand. They speak to us. They do not even address each other. Each character exists in his, or her, own world, so there's really nothing visual to hold our interest. Even though the text is very strong, the characters seem almost disincarnated and that diminishes the mental and emotional impact of the situation. Actually, I felt myself drowsing off from time to time in spite of everything.

Presenter: Nodding off? Then I'm trying to imagine what the final verdict will be on this one.

Alvina: Well, I would say it is a beautifully written and deeply disturbing play, a powerful ending, some excellent performances, especially Kel Parsons, but it all was too static and it slowed down at points to where the play almost stopped - so I think this is a director's problem.

OTTAWA - A blind woman gets a second chance to see again, but doesn't like what she sees in SevenThirty Theatre's latest production, Brian Friel's Molly Sweeney.

Molly, played with authority by Kel Parsons, is anything but disabled. She has a full-time job, and can identify hundreds of flowers by their smell and touch. It's a life she's created for herself and one that she can't share with her dreamy and somewhat distracted husband Frank (Jerome Bourgault).

So when an alcoholic opthamologist named Mr. Rice, played by John Collins, offers her sight-restoring surgery, Sweeney is reluctant to accept, concerned that the surgery will turn her world upside down. But when both Rice, who wants to restore his broken career, and Frank, who desperately needs another project, urge her to have the surgery, Molly reluctantly agrees. "What have you got to lose?" the good doctor asks her.

A lot, apparently. I don't want to give that away.

Written by Ireland's leading playwright, Brian Friel, who won a Tony Award in 1990 for Dancing at Lughnasa, Molly Sweeney is better listening than viewing. But that isn't necessarily a bad thing. Told through a series of interwoven monologues, there is virtually no drama, and no interaction between the three characters. They tell us their story with no physical drama or embellishment.

By focusing on the vocal delivery and adding only the slightest bit of blocking, director John P. Kelly proves that he is a skilled innovator of the Irish stage.

Parsons is outstanding in the title role. It's a surprisingly subtle yet passionate performance, one that comes down to small gestures and telling expressions that Parsons displays on her emotional face.

Collins is also perfectly cast as the frail surgeon who wants to be on top again. Collins has a musical voice and nervous personality which go well with his character. Finally, you're never quite sure what to expect from Bourgault's performance as Molly's fickle husband. Bourgault seems to be all over the place. But somehow, it works.

The only major complaint is, at almost two-and-a-half hours long, Friel seems to get a little carried away with his stories. He's a master Irish storyteller who spins stories long after Molly Sweeney's finished telling hers.

Sun Rating: 4 out of 5

Let's just call it a case of temporary artistic blindness. SevenThirty Productions, much-lauded for such shows as A Night in November with Pierre Brault, has stumbled with Molly Sweeney, the Brian Friel three-hander at the Natalie Stern Studio Theatre.

The story, briefly, centres on the sweet and eager-to-please Molly Sweeney (Kel Parsons). Sightless - although not unhappily so - virtually her entire life, she's convinced to have an eye operation by her husband Frank (Jerome Bourgault), whose existence is a series of sudden enthusiasms that inevitably flop. Performing the surgery is Mr. Rice (John Collins), a failed, whisky-loving ophthalmologist seeking to restore his professional reputation and rekindle his zest for life.

Blindness, metaphorical or literal, stalks all three. While Molly has lit her physical darkness with imagined colours and shapes and a lively interest in the world, she's willfully blind to the self-absorbed needs that motivate Frank and Mr. Rice. They in turn have sight but no insight, leaving their lives shallow and skewing their understanding of Molly's real and fairly simple needs: love, companionship, shared joy in what is, not what could be

The operation, a partial success, precipitates a disastrous change in Molly (was I alone in thinking the text unconvincing on that score?) that leads to a retreat into herself and the play's grim denouement

All this the characters reveal in a series of monologues, addressing us but not each other.

Meant to be an insightful exploration of how blindness to ourselves and to others results in desperate alienation, the production struggles to move beyond the flatness of the printed text.

Director John P. Kelly has underscored the characters' alienation by keeping each actor firmly rooted to one-third of the stage, not so much as even glancing at the other two. Combined with the monologue structure, the staging quickly becomes tiresome

And while the actors invest a certain richness in their parts - Parsons a quiet eagerness for life, Bourgault an appealing if misguided fervour for the novel, Collins a prickly and relentless self-recrimination - none connects deeply enough with the text or audience to elevate the play beyond an emotional monotone. Too often told about, not shown, their inner lives, we care far less for these people than we should

Our connection with the characters is further strained by the theatre's bad sight lines, made worse when the actors are sitting

SevenThirty Productions needs to set its sights higher next time

If everyone were blessed with a father like Tim, the world would be a saner place. Nor would the cause of sanity be hurt if all theatre were as well-executed as SevenThirty Productions' North American premiere of The Good Father, now at the Irving Greenberg Studio Theatre.

...

Kris Joseph as Tim and Michelle LeBlanc as Jane are splendid. Tightly directed by John P. Kelly but appearing wholly natural, they unveil ever-deeper layers of character and vulnerability in their movements, intonations and even silences. The two actors have a natural chemistry that enriches Tim and Jane's frequently fraught, always gripping, relationship. Approach and retreat, not to mention some extremely funny lines, underpin that relationship, and actors and director alike have nailed it as Tim and Jane battle to become better versions of themselves.

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Ottawa Morning - Theatre with Alvina Ruprecht

I: SevenThirty Productions is a new professional theatre company in Ottawa; it's inaugurating the small studio space at the new Irving Greenberg Theatre, with a play called The Good Father. It's by a little known playwright, Christian O'Reilly, who works mainly in Ireland. Our theatre critic Alvina Ruprecht was out to see the play last night. Good morning Alvina.

A: Good morning.

I: So tell us a little about the author, I'm not familiar with him. Is he known?

A: No, I don't think he is well-known in North America, apart from specialists in Irish theatre, but - again - Christian O'Reilly, this is his first full-length play; it was first produced in Galway, at the Galway Arts Festival in 2002,that's in Ireland. You can tell it's a work by a young person, it's a young person's play... it's a very personal play. Christian O'Reilly mainly seems to be a writer of film scenarios. You sense that here, because the play is divided into a series of short scenes, with blackouts which indicate the passage of time. Anyway, this is the North American Premiere of the play, so it's the first time it's been seen outside of Ireland and we can thank director John P. Kelly for that one.

I: So tell us what happens onstage.

A: Well, it's a two-hander, which means there are two characters; Jane is the woman, sullen, cynical and an almost self-hating young woman. She appears to be desperate for affection and yet she does everything to discourage it - she's obviously very well educated, she speaks well, but she has a lot of problems. Then there's also Tim, a painter - a house painter, not an artist - painter. He's a good natured fellow, but he has difficulty expressing himself; he's awkward with people, but he too has his own personal demons, especially his father and all this emerges as the play progresses. Now, it begins at a New Year's Eve party where the two meet for the first time. They're very drunk. Alcohol takes over and this is where - this is a bit common-place, but the thing is, the language is very special, it is very abrupt and right from the beginning there's tension - and any case, as alcohol take over they end up in a passionate embrace - lights out and your imagination does the rest.

I: Lights out onstage?

A: Lights out in the theatre... so obviously...

I: What happens? I assume the passionate embrace proceeds to its logical conclusion Alvina, is that what happens?

A: Yes, well... exactly, but the thing is, it's just a one night stand, that's the whole problem; it's just a once-off as they say and that's it... but they both,.. at first they think probably that's it because he doesn't phone her back. But soon things happen. They don't assume anything can come of this because they are both so different. But things get complicated and they do get involved more quickly than expected and a month later Jane gets in touch with him, because she's pregnant and that sets off a volcano of feelings and repressed memories which overflow violently like hot lava - and forces these two young people to come to terms with their own feelings for each other, to come to terms with past experiences, with old relationships and even with their own parents. And of course, the title, The Good Father, brings into focus the fact that this young man has had a very difficult relationship with his own father. So he wants to be ‘the good father' with this baby. They realise themselves they'll be parents and that changes their whole perspective. So it's all very difficult and they first try to transform themselves into a real couple and to deal with the idea of a baby coming, getting used to each other and learning to love each other. And that's what it's all about. I can't say too much because there are a lot of surprises here, I don't want to spoil the play. But it's a delicate emotional journey. It's excruciatingly intimate. There are things that are almost embarrassing to watch. It deals with details about impotence, about the way that Tim is dying to become a father even though he did have this sad relationship with his own father. And you see the way their relationship becomes stronger after a beautiful kiss onstage, quite wonderful - quite simple, but wonderfully directed. And it all develops into something very strong.

I: Well Alvina, during our World Report, you gave me a hint - you said it was 'Six thumbs up', but yet the plot-line as you describe it here sounds very familiar, something I've seen in a Hollywood Movie, or something I've read in a Romance. Is there something melodramatic about this, something common-place?

A: Well, it's not common-place and its not melodramatic. It's just very, very intense and very real - and maybe because of the language. This is one of the great things about this playwright; he knows how to express his emotions without sliding into any kind of over-sentimentality. It's not sentimental. It's not maudlin. It's not banal. The emotions are not clichéd. They always appear here to be new and fresh and the result of really deep, deep-seated personal conflict - that's what's interesting here - that it comes from a particular problem with each character. It also emphasises the particular problem, which is eating away at the couple, which is the class-conflict, which is something very special and you often see this in Irish theatre. Class conflict rears its ugly head all the way through; it breaks the emotional contact they have, it becomes sometimes very nasty. He's working-class, she has a good education. He is conscious that she uses words in a much more refined way than he possibly can and he's constantly grappling with his self-consciousness of his working-class background. And when sometimes she, inadvertently corrects him, that enrages him. But they are still trying to make the relationship work because he so wants to be a father. I won't go into details because I don't want to spoil it for you.

I: OK - you did mention - just two characters in this play - is that a challenge then to produce it interestingly onstage?

A: Well, obviously they have to have good actors here and they do it very well. First of all John P. Kelly directs; he is a very meticulous director, who pays great attention to detail and David Magladry's lighting design brings out the shadows and the moods, so there is a lot of intense mood and the staging is very well done - and Kelly's work with the actors especially is quite extraordinary.

I: Well, tell me about the actors, do they pull it off?

A: Yes, very well. The performances are really strong. I was especially struck by Kris Joseph, whom I have never seen in a role of such depth and such intensity before, something so different from what he does normally. He plays an extremely troubled young man, who has to bare his soul and expose his mental and physical vulnerability and, in one particularly strong scene, he describes his coming to terms with being impotent - and that was a whopper. I've never seen him like this before. He was awkward, he was disturbed, he struggled - he doesn't dare say what he wants to say; it hurts him so much to bring it out, he won't say the words - like he makes us understand what he is talking about - and she sort of follows him as well. He shows us how he is extremely sensitive to the woman's needs, to his own needs - and he makes us believe he'll really become a good father - it was a remarkable stage creation, the character - and a very strong role and actor Kris Joseph makes him come alive beautifully - and he was well-served by Michelle LeBlanc who plays Jane, who betrays her almost self-destructive tendencies at first, but she slowly evolves into someone who is very loving. And both deal with the Irish accents very well.

I: I was going to ask you, because you know, sometimes that can be a problem.

A: Oh yeah, - and be very distracting, but it wasn't, they really did it... you are not even aware of the accents at all - they were there and they suggest them more than anything.

It's a beautiful text, very well acted, well directed, worth seeing, go and see it. Go and see it.

ALVINA: J. P. Kelly is staging four plays by Irish writers. He is the director who gave us the big hit A Night in November, with Pierre Brault and now he is back with 4 different works. I saw two of them and both were excellent. The first play is called Nothing personal by Hugh Leonard. Here, a working class brother and sister come home one evening with an older well dressed man. It isn't clear what is going on but little by little, we see that the two young people are toying with the man. They get him to talk about his life, and the more he talks , the more cruel this gentle cat and mouse game becomes until the truth is laid bare before us and the ending is horrible. A taut little drama, Very well written and well acted... The production values are limited, because they are in a cafe, but still, it is well staged and it holds your attention every second of the way.

The other play directed by Kelly is called the Donahue Sisters by Geraldine Aron, which featured a cast of 3 great ladies of the Ottawa stage: Mary Ellis, Terri Loretto and Patricia Tedford. And it was fun to see them all together, taking on such different roles... The story revolves around three sisters who meet back home in Ireland where their father is dying. What begins as a sweet little tea party where they all reminisce, turns into memories of a sadistic death ritual.

You know something, J.P. Kelly puts together excellent shows on a shoestring and I wonder when local professional theatres are going to make use of this man and give him the legitimate setting he so well deserves. Both the Donahue Sisters and Nothing Personal are on at the Alt Cafe... in the Simard Building, at University of Ottawa. But go see the Galway Sisters and Melody as well...

HALLIE: So a thumbs up on anything directed by John P. Kelly.

Three Irish sisters reunite to share gossip and a dark family secret in Geraldine Aron's disturbing play. Almost a perfect fringe production, the play is largely enjoyable, with a randy sense of humour and a jim dandy of a cliffhanger that left the audience mumbling to themselves on the way out. Director John P. Kelly pumps up the natural chemistry between Mary Ellis, Teri Rata Loretto and Patricia Tedford as the three sisters, which is hardly surprising as they are three of Ottawa's better professional actresses. Yet another small treasure from Ottawa's Irish theatre company.

Sure to rank high on the current Ottawa Fringe creepy scale, this little number sees three sisters reunite after years apart. They drink some vodka, do a few tokes, carp about their husbands and kids.

It's when they start reminiscing about a sinister act from their childhood that you realise you wouldn't have wanted these gals as your next door neighbours when you were growing up. And you sure wouldn't want them as your wives.

Smartly directed with some choice choral speaking bits, the play finds familiar Ottawa actors Patricia Tedford (Dunya), Mary Ellis (Annie) and Teri Rata Loretto (Rosie) upping the creepiness ante with some very funny lines.

Night in November is a powerful night of theatre (if you can find it)

Chances are that you won't much like Kenneth McAllister, a born and bred Belfast Protestant who spreads no joy in his position as an officious welfare clerk. He's self-important, checking his car every morning for IRA bombs. He's small-minded, with no greater ambition than membership in an exclusive golf club. Worst of all, he's a sly bigot, humiliating his Catholic clients before granting them benefits.

Playwright Marie Jones and actor Pierre Brault introduce us to this "stupid little man" in 'A Night in November', and then effect a wondrous transformation. McAllister sees the light, struggles with his old beliefs, and then reaches out, in dramatic fashion, to the other side.

In this funny, absorbing and memorable production at the Natalie Stern Studio Theatre, the Irish writer and the Canadian performer work as one. As they relate this deeply personal story of one man's journey, they remind us that this is the way the world is changed, one mind at a time. 'A Night in November' deserves to be the sleeper hit of what has so far been a remarkably strong Ottawa theatre season.

The title refers to a 1993 soccer match between teams representing the Irish Republic and Northern Ireland to decide who would advance to the World Cup. Played on the Unionists home-turf, the predominantly Protestant crowd staged an ugly display of religious hatred. "This isn't a football field, it's a battlefield" says the horrified McAllister. Searching for a way to express his newfound disgust at a life based on old grudges, the becomes the Republic of Ireland's newest fan and travels to New York City for the World Cup Final.

Brault is up to the challenge of playing the evolving McAllister as well as a host of other characters. He's best known for his work in solo shows he both wrote and performed. He changes characters with a shift of the shoulders and, when the occasion demands, moves from a quiet display of emotion to all-out buffoonery. Here Brault proves he can bring these skills to another writer's work, and also does a creditable job with the difficult Ulster accent.

Brault's only unconvincing moments are when he plays Deborah, McAllister's wife. His fluttering fingers make Deborah come across as more female impersonator than full-bodied woman. Of course, Jones really hasn't given him much of a woman to work with. Deborah, like all the Protestants in 'A Night in November' is disquietingly shallow. Jones, whose own heritage is Belfast Protestant, has written what amounts to a valentine to Irish Catholics. While the Protestants are portrayed as uptight, narrow-minded, obsessively clean and emotionally stunted, the Catholics are all warm-hearted, open-minded, relaxed and in love with life. This heavy-handedness is fascinating and tells us that the time is not yet right for a Protestant to writer to create Catholic characters with even small flaws. However, 'A Night in November' gives us hope that the time will come.

The play, a hit in Dublin and New York, comes to Ottawa courtesy of director John P. Kelly and his fledgling company, Seven Thirty Productions, which is devoted to presenting contemporary Irish work. So far, Kelly's greatest challenge has been to find performance space. Last spring he presented 'Kings of the Kilburn High Road' in a downtown bar. The Natalie Stern Studio Theatre in the Ottawa School of Speech and Drama is a considerable step up, but it's an obscure location. Now, it's not normally the mandate of a review to help the patrons find the theatre, but get out a city map or visit the drama school's website, www.ossd.com, and click on "About OSSD". You'll see that it's not a difficult drive or bus trip.

After all, if Kenneth McAllister could travel all the way to New York City for a football game, you can no doubt make it to Westboro for a most powerful night of theatre.

Daft over Fitball

Pierre Brault brilliant in one-man show about the Irish and their love of soccer.

There are many strange and wonderful characters living inside the otherwise normal local actor Pierre Brault.

Every couple of years he lets them out through dizzying solo shows in which he single-handedly plays dozens of characters. His fist solos show, 'Blood on the Moon', was a smash hit both here and in Ireland in 2002. He followed that up the more erudite "Portrait of an Unidentified Man" in 2004, which drew even louder critical raves.

One of those cheering loudest was director John P. Kelly, an Irish ex-pat who steered Brault on to another play, one that upped the emotional ante a bit with Marie Jones' award winning 1995 play, "A Night in November", which opened Tuesday at the Ottawa School of Speech and Drama.

Brault plays Kenneth McCallister, an unremarkable, middle-class, middle-aged and quietly bigoted Northern Protestant whose life changes forever at a football match between Northern Ireland and the Irish Republic. Confronting unbridled sectarian hatred, he decides he's had enough of that racism that has bled the North dry for centuries.

This epiphenomenal transformation to Irish nationalism from Loyalist hate-monger arrives with surprisingly high comedy in the play's second half, when, on a whim, Kenneth decides to join the hordes of Irish fans flying to New York City to attend the 1994 World Cup match between Ireland and Italy.

This small but sturdy local SevenThirty Production is letter-perfect. Written by the prolific Belfast based author of Tribes, Fighting with Shadows and Stones in his Pockets, A Night in November is storytelling in grand style. It hits the key human aspect of provocative political issue with dramatic precision, unexpected poignancy, affecting sentiment and abundant humour. You don't notice how heavy the content is because the dialogue is so light.

Blessed with such an important script and a compelling character, Brault shines over two hours, jumping in and out of 16 hilarious, heart-warming and utterly believable characters into which he seems to disappear.

It's a masterfully moving performance deserving of a long run as was proven when everyone in the audience remained after the opening night show for the chance to ask questions of the playwright, director and Brault. The audience, it seemed, wanted more.

Irish politics and sports clash during one unforgettable night in November.

"The day started out like any other day: I checked for explosives under the car" - Moments like these - horrific for most - but normal for anyone living in Northern Ireland, had the entire audience laughing on opening night of 7:30 Productions A Night in November. Actor Pierre Brault, a local celebrity best-known for his one man plays, such as Portrait of an Unidentified Man, returns to the stage with another solo show that examines one man's revolting revelation concerning his own bigotry.

Even though only one actor appears on the stage, there are 27 other characters - 27 voices from different regions of Ireland that Brault gives life to. Director John P. Kelly, originally from Ireland, has clearly worked hard with Brault to ensure the authenticity of his performance.

Accustomed to producing plays in bars, Kelly sensibly keeps the set to a minimum (just a tri-level, tri-colour riser), thereby allowing his actor the space he requires for storytelling.

And Brault is a fantastic storyteller. Whether it is tense dialogue between Kenneth and his wife Debra or a re-enactment of a World Cup match between Ireland and Italy, this talented thespian sustains the entire room's attention. His comic timing is faultless and his enthusiasm is perfectly infectious. With one word, one glance, one movement, Brault has the ability to trigger uproarious laughter or dread silence from the audience.

The Kings of the Kilburn High Road, the bristling new production staged by Irish director John P. Kelly is Ottawa's latest foray into pub theatre.- not dinner theatre, not cabaret, but pub theatre. Just to set the record straight. Dinner theatre has come and gone many times in Ottawa. Nancy Turner staged Noel Coward in a restaurant on Elgin street and it closed after a year. There was also improv comedy in the same restaurant, spear headed by Jack Eyame and the rest of his gang of brilliant comics but that lasted only about two years. Again, in spite of the most enjoyable culinary and artistic experiences orchestrated by Abby Hagyard with deliciously catered meals, scrumptious deserts and excellent theatre productions in a local hotel and a Manotick curling rink, Ottawa audiences just proved to be not very interested in eating and watching people perform! . But "pub" theatre is something else. John P. Kelly, Seven Thirty Productions, and an ensemble of actors who work impeccably as a team, are now engaging in some pretty powerful stage business in a downtown drinking establishment and it makes for a very good evening. And you can even have a beer during the show if you don't make too much of a racket.

This is actually what the British call Fringe theatre: not those Canadian events that last for two weeks in the summer and move on. No, Fringe in Britain refers to small, intimate, inexpensive and off the beaten track performances in local pubs. I saw several of them when I was in England several years ago and sometimes these Fringe events give you surprisingly exciting stagings in spite of their limited means.

The Kings of the Kilburn High Road, by Irish writer Jimmy Murphy, takes place in a pub, so the setting is perfect. Five old Irish friends , the "kings" of the title, who have emigrated to England, meet here after a funeral mass to hold a wake for their friend Jimmy who has just died. The little group has been in England for almost 30 years and although the wake begins as a sort of rowdy happy hour where they are all supposed to get good and drunk to say fare-well to their friend, the gathering turns bitter and angry as the drink loosens tongues, jogs memories and turns this gathering into a quasi-tragic moment.

Terrible unspoken truths come out as the joyful shell falls away and we learn the misery of wasted lives, of human beings who could not fit in, who clung to their little boy rituals in the pub to create a sense of community that had been lost, while they became alcoholics, jobless dreamers, racists or wife beaters.

The play, tightly written, almost classically constructed, is a slice of naturalistic life where the upper floor of the Aulde Dubliner opens the fourth wall and lets us in as uncomfortable voyeurs, sitting in the midst of this unfolding psychodrama. As soon as Jap (Pierre Brault) and Maurteen (David L. McCallum) - the two most powerful performers of the evening, come into the place and start ordering drinks, the conflicts begin simmering and when Maurteen orders lemonade instead of his usual Jamaican rum, we know something is seriously wrong... Shay (Don Laflamme) and Git (Jerome Bourgault) take sides in the discussion and from that moment on, the playwright has his characters at each other's throat, almost at the drop of a hat. However, they all emerge as beings who are tortured by different demons, as shocking revelations tie them together in an explosive second act that will leave you with an empty feeling in the pit of your stomach.

Its good to feel some real tough emotions on stage. You recognize that this is what life is all about and yet, because these men are supposed to be Irish Immigrants in a London pub, in an Irish district of the city - the Kilburn High Road - there is enough distance between them and us to allow us to sit back and appreciate the excellent performance without being too disturbed by the sordid world that has them trapped like an inescapable quagmire.

Generally though, the play refers to serious questions about immigration which is very much part of Canadian reality: the impossible return to ones place of origin, the disoriented lives that cannot be reconnected and that provoke destructive behaviour, the embarrassment felt by Joe (Brian Stewart) who is the only really successful one of the lot and the resentment that eats Jap alive because he has not made it in this country. And the absurdity of it all comes to its full realization when Git tells the story of Jackie's death, the most powerful moment of the play. Pierre Brault as Jap sizzles in anger and disbelief as tears stream down his cheeks. This swaggering boisterous character who taunts and teases and lives an illusion of success, is all the more disturbed because it could have been his own fate. Jerome Bourgault as Git shows us a slowly decomposing face as the blood shot eyes fill with liquid, . The intimacy of the pub sets us close the actor's face so that we could see the evolution of a performance that was a bit slow getting started but that reached moments of great strength during the Jimmy monologue which held us all in breathless expectation.

This ensemble of five actors was perfectly orchestrated by director Kelly. In that small space with the tables, the chairs, the juke box, where the bottles of gin, whisky and rum were passed among the boisterous crowd, a perfect sense of down and dirty naturalism revealed how his well oiled team of actors worked so well, feeding off each other's energy, pumping each other up, recharging each others batteries.

And if you are wondering about Irish accents by Canadian actors, director Kelly admits that they do not all sound like Dubliners, for those who might recognize the difference. In fact there are moments when I heard distinct Canadian vowels slipping into their exchanges. But they quickly caught themselves. No doubt Pierre Brault and Don Laflamme produced the most convincing accents of the evening. However, the characterizations are so strong, that the accents are not an issue here, and Brault with his mischievous eyes, his face that flares into crimson red or is suddenly drained of its colour, his eyes that shoot fire, his mouth that tightens and fairly spits out his words, is a sight to behold and a performance you will not soon forget.