Shtop! Sunday Morning Coming Down is a Must See

 

Truman Town Theatre’s Sunday Morning Coming Down opens with two brothers in their early twenties sitting at the kitchen table of the house where they were both reared.  John has been away working in Italy, and Chris gives him a catch-up of the goings on in Ballinrobe, their home town. 

Shoulders shook in the Cork Arts Theatre, and the laughs came fast, loud and unstoppable, while the boys shared anecdotes. Though the set is limited to the kitchen and living area of the McGuire’s family home, a whole town is made alive and vibrant in the imagination of the audience. Quinn, the local publican, Mary Feerick and a host of others not listed on the program, all enter and exit the stage through the vibrancy of Donnellan’s language.

The laughter stops with chilling suddenness as the tyrannical and tragic figure of Joe, the boy’s alcoholic father, enters the scene. This part was played with great vigour by Sean O’Maille. Theresa Leahy also shone in the role of the mother, her soft voice and controlled performance an effective foil to Joe’s sudden rages and mad deliriums. Both sons were perfectly cast; Conor Geoghan’s wild curls fit well with the character of John, a lad who, like his hair, won’t be contained by small town Irish life. Cathal Leonard’s characterisation of Chris, the good humoured elder son who works hard in the slaughterhouse and can’t see a way out of his life, got the most laughs with his tall stories. P.J. Moore in the part of Martin, the neighbour that walks in and out of the McGuire home as he pleases, usually at the most inopportune time, also offers moments of comic relief.

The language of the play is modern Hiberno-English as spoken in Mayo. There is liberal use of the phrases we grew up with – ‘so tight he’d peel an orange in his pocket’ – melded with the slang words of youth, ‘sound’.  The language reflects the highly metaphorical way in which English is spoken in rural Ireland. When Sharon, John's love interest – played elegantly by Niamh Shiggins – is offered food by his mom she replies no, she is ‘whaled’. In the lobby after the play, the second item on the agenda for conversation, after the piece of theatre we had just witnessed, was language. Talking to PJ Moore, who played Martin, he explained how in Waterford, where he is from, the word ‘Well’ conveys,’ hello, how are you?  What are you at? How’s your mother?’ He got a postcard from a fella once that just had that one word, ‘Well’ on it.  That one word said it all.

  And it was this, Donnellan’s keen ear, acute observational skills, and ability to convey the tightness and vitality of English as the Irish speak it, which was the star of this show. I was reminded of the story of Synge, sitting in his room on the Aran Islands, listening to the talk of the Aran natives through a crack in the floorboards of his bedroom. In this way, he filed for use the phrases, ways of talking and anecdotes of the native Aran people which he drew on for his writing of The Playboy of the Western World.  Ballinrobe has been Donnellan’s sourcebook for this play, and a rich and varied source it has proven.