Revisiting "What the Folk!" by Kambrya Blake

Kambrya Blake, one of our students, experienced a serious personal loss immediately prior to departing for Ireland with our program.  She has generously offered this piece as a reflection on her own experience of the trip, her loss and one of the productions that we saw together.  First follows her personal reflection, then her earlier review of the performance.  

***

         It was the day before I was to depart for Ireland, and I was on top of the world. I was on a natural high of excitement, ready to set out on a great adventure. Then came the news that brought me crashing in on myself – my friend Mikey had died suddenly at the young age of twenty-two. How quickly my elation turned into sorrow, into an emotional storm that left me drained and feeling as though there was no way I could continue with the trip. I spent the entire day sobbing into my pillow, wishing that I had spent more time with him, taken a second out of my day to comment on his Facebook pictures – anything to let him know he was on my mind.  I knew that Mikey would want me to continue and have this experience regardless, but I couldn’t help the feelings of guilt that plagued me. Guilt that I was going to do something that Mikey would never have the opportunity to do himself,  that I would be out having the time of my life when I should be grieving his loss. I made a decision that night that I would tell as few people about his death as possible… I knew my grief would isolate me regardless, but the last thing I wanted was for people to feel the need to pity me.

This loss shaped my perspective on the trip, it wasn’t just a summer abroad for me. It was more than schoolwork and pub hopping; it was an exploration of mortality and what that meant to me. Every event took on a deeper meaning, which in turn took a great toll on my being. I felt perpetually exhausted, both physically and emotionally. I was constantly on the verge of tears.  I felt alone in my grief, six thousand miles from the people who gave a damn. But it a strange way, it was beautiful. I was forced to face my grief alone, to walk through a dark moment in my life and come out the other side.  But I did it. And little by little, I began to see small signs that I believe were his presence– a song that would play suddenly, the lyrics seemingly a response to my thoughts.  As the trip went on I began to open up to others about my loss, to share my pain in order to overcome it.  I was never able to feel completely healed, but I became strong enough to bear the sorrow. Ireland was a place of regeneration and personal introspection for me, a place where I found my strength, a place I will never forget –  and I know that Mikey was there with me for every moment of it.

***

When discussing the great theatrical works of Ireland, nearly all the pieces mentioned are ones in which the role of the audience is clearly defined – we are spectators, watching the world before us unfold; however, in What the Folk! the lines of audience and performer are blurred. The goal of this piece is not to create a spectacle, but rather to examine the deeper and more personal purpose of art. It explores the theme of folk and tradition in 21^st century, and what this means to our modern culture. Folk, as an expression of traditional culture, still resonates among the Irish population today – it is for the people and by the people. Folk is then, in essence, family. By incorporating the audience into the performance, the actors were successfully able to evoke the tightknit feeling of family and community in and among all involved.

The piece does not take place on a stage, nor even in a theater, but in a house located in a residential district of Cork. The audience members are invited into the home as if they were guests, and the group is limited to a small number of people; fifteen at most. The home is furnished to look like any other home would – inviting and warm, not a typical theatrical space. Thus this exemplifies the theme of folk being family by evoking a sense of community and closeness between the performers and the audience.  The performers are not playing formal characters, but rather themselves as characters – with their own personal attributes on display. They do not wear costumes that are apparent as such, but rather clothes that they might wear in an everyday setting. This in conjunction with the set creates the illusion that the conversations are organic and unscripted, allowing the performance to flow freely into the realm of reality.

 The plot centers on the theme of folk as an integral part of family and community, and seeks to explore how this works in a modern context. At the start of the performance, the actors pose the question directly: what is folk? Throughout the experience, the cast involve the audience in very performed (yet seemingly spontaneous) interactions, starting with serving tea in the dining room, having a bit of fun dancing in the living room, and even sharing intimate personal stories when the larger group broke off into smaller ones to explore different rooms in the house. These actions and deliberate choices lead the viewers to come to the conclusion that “folk” can be defined as closeness and family well before the performers overtly announce this perceived definition at the end.

The performers of the piece are members of the National Folk Theater of Ireland, being not only actors but dancers and singers. As representatives of Irish folk, they found it important for the audience to “be part of the conversation” (Cork Midsummer Festival Program).  They chose to focus on finding the culture of their nation, through art, by incorporating the audience into the personal details of their experience with folk dance and working with the National Folk Theater, stating that folk traditions are an important aspect of the nation’s history and should still be practiced and celebrated today. They discussed the difference between competitive and traditional Irish Dance, allowing the audience a glimpse at how the traditions are changing and becoming commodified.

On a personal level, I was greatly affected by their goal of demonstrating that folk is part of family, and that it is alive and thriving within the people of today. I was mesmerized by their ingenuity of staging the piece in a house. As a writer, the way the production was handled got me contemplating how I might utilize these methods in my own work – and to question whether this would be a successful piece in the states. The intimacy of the audience played a major role in creating the overall feel of What the Folk! and I wonder how the experience would be different with a different group of people. Perhaps then, folk is family – but what “family” means or how the themes affect people varies according to the individual.

At the time of the showing, I had recently lost a very good friend of mine in a sudden and painful way. When the performers began speaking of their deceased friend, it hit a nerve. I felt as though these people were grieving with me.  Cerebrally I knew that this was not the case; they were not grieving for my friend but for their own, yet through this experience we were connected in a universal emotion. I felt as though these people were stand-ins for the family that I was unable to grieve with, that they were now functioning as my family and that even though we did not know the other’s lost friend we were able to feel empathy and connect on a deep level. That is folk – folk is connecting with the community of people around you, with embracing the humanity and emotions of others and connecting in some way, be it simple or profound.

David Mamet’s "Glengarry Glen Ross": Dublin, Ireland and American Capitalism- Gate Theatre, July 10

           

Glengarry Glen Ross at the Gate 

         The Gate Theatre in Parnell Square is treasured as one of Dublin’s most prestigious performance venues and is credited with producing impressive national and international works. Their most recent feat was producing David Mamet’s Pulitzer Prize winning play Glengarry Glen Ross with a cast of mostly native Irish actors. Mamet’s play is famously American, and follows the multiple antagonistic stories of the agents of a less-than-honorable real estate firm through its maze of manipulative inner-workings. The crux of the play involves the firm being robbed of their listings, contract, and “leads”, which results in suspicions and accusations flying around, until finally the most-unsuspected character confesses. This is a fairly simple plotline, for the art of the piece lies in the acting: the literal acting by the performers, but also the acts of deception which are employed by Mamet’s riveting characters. However instinctually odd producing this play in Ireland may seem, this production and cast proved that a well-written piece is still relevant and valuable regardless of region or nation when executed with professionalism and vigor.

            The direction of this play was adequate in that it was consistent and unobtrusive, but more interesting to consider is why this particular play was produced at this exact time in Ireland, and what it means now. One would assume that creating the characterization of realistic and authentic American businessmen would require more work and study for the Irish actors; however, this may not be true considering the significant industrialism, capitalism, and American influence that is present even here in Dublin. Mamet’s piece heavily carries the theme of American capitalism. Quite simply, this play is about being the best and making the most money, even if that means stabbing one’s co-workers and friends in the back. This is especially clear with the cut-throat power-play between the characters of Roma, Moss, and Levene, all three  of whom employ base manipulation to gain control, and money. It is likely that this play’s success in the U.S. can be credited to its strong statement and critique of American capitalism. With that in mind, it’s interesting to consider how this meaning and message changes, or doesn’t, when this play is performed in Ireland in 2012. Ireland and more specifically Dublin, now with several years between it and the crash of “the Celtic tiger” in 2008, is found once again struggling in a recession. However, it still remains to be one of the most massively sought-after tourist destinations in the world. One could go even further to say that tourism is one of the only steady industries currently functioning in Ireland. Because of this, there is a significant number of American business chains who have brought their businesses to Ireland, specifically Dublin, such as Starbucks, McDonalds, and Burger King just to name a few. In the program for the show, the location is given as “An American city”. And while this is annoyingly unspecific at first glance, the value of not having named a specific city becomes clearer when this story is applied to Dublin, Ireland now. Even across the ocean and decades from its origin, the piece is still incredibility topical and poignant for it theme and critique of the American money machine and how it has sunk its roots around the world.

            The best performance of the night was hands down given by Mr. Owen Roe in his role of Shelly “The Machine” Levene. Mr. Roe took the audience on a tantalizing rollercoaster ride of manipulation, desperation, and deep human suffering. His expertise allowed him to craft just the right combination of action and emotion that let the audience sympathize with him one moment, and detest him the next. Also, considering his Irish roots, his American dialect was flawless. His speech flowed naturally in a standard mid-western dialect which was neither artificial nor distracting. The pacing, speed, and tenor of his dialogue were excellent, which is especially pertinent for this play. Mamet’s quick and witty text consists of many half-finished sentences and interruptions, and much aggressive banter, many times between three or more characters at once. And Mr. Roe successfully navigated this complex text with the dexterity of a master actor; he weaved his array of realistic exasperations and quick changes of tactics though the understatedly choppy and repetitive dialogue. To contrast the excellent performance of Mr. Roe, one can examine the part of John Williamson, which was played by the young Irish actor John Cronin. Mr. Cronin’s performance seemed to lack a certain sense of season when contrasted with his fellow cast members, which also ironically parallels the situation his character experiences in the play. Mr. Cronin played the young green office manager well only in that his own lack of experience also seemed inadequate when paired with the older acting talent in the production. His American dialect, which seemed to stem from some stereotypical northern east coast speech such as New York or Boston, seemed to even distract him from his own action and pursuit of intention at times, blurring the relevance of his dialogue and alienating the audience. His portrayal of John Williamson was rightfully cocky and obnoxious, but lacked the vulnerability to complete the other half of inferiority complex and would counter his bold behavior. In addition, it seemed he lacked some of the most basic technical acting skills such as genuine listening, which then informs how rehearsed a piece like this really is, when that fact should be the farthest thing from an audience member’s mind when trying to suspend disbelief.

            The technical aspects of the show were of good quality and highly consistent. The set was particularly impressive in that it did just what a set should do: it functioned safely and effectively for the actors without distracting or detracting from the performance. This production also used their curtains very effectively in the first act; between scenes, a single runner curtain would move across the stage in a fluid motion, and the actors from the previous scene would leave behind it while simultaneously the actors for the next scene would be set behind it. Artistically, the set was not an impressive spectacle, yet it consisted of so many significant small details that it clearly defined the world of the play. Both set locations seen in this play were not over- or understated, but functioned perfectly for the use of the action and actors. It was the careful detail such as the china tea cup and duct tape on the booth in the restaurant during the first half that made that location as real as can be. The same can be said for the detail work in the real estate office: from the dingy cement walls and the dirty, finger-printed glass door, to the dangling fly strip and the grimy air conditioning vent. These small details are an example of the careful thought that went into designing this set, and spoke volumes to the audience about the world these characters lived in.

            Mamet’s Glengarry Glen Ross remains to be an American classic, one that withstands time and interpretation, and location. It possesses an ability to be flexed and stretched to take on new meaning across the world while still remaining a topical and riveting piece of theatre. The Gate Theatre’s production presented new meaning for the piece by setting it in America, but also producing it in Ireland. This production still captured its unmistakably American theme, while also shining some new light on the great beast of American capitalism and its consequences around the globe. This was a dynamic and challenging production that proved its relevance once again.

~Moni Wright

The author doing a mask workshop with Barabbas's Raymond Keane

Two Perspectives on Tom Murphy's "The House"- Abbey Theatre, July 4

The de Burca women of The House

Fion Lau

           Tom Murphy's The House is about a group of emigrants who are returning to Ireland for their annual visit; more specifically, it is about Christy Cavanagh and the way in which he steps in to “save” the one place he has ever considered his home when he discovers that it is going to be sold by the de Burca family. While the play can certainly be read as a study of the different lives emigrants live, and the ways in which they are variously received when they return to visit, one of the most interesting aspects to me was the silence that is so central to forwarding the action of the play.

            Christy wishes to save the de Burca home by purchasing it himself, but does not want to shock Mrs. de Burca by doing so “out of the blue”. As a result, he decides that he ought to first tell one of Mrs. de Burca’s three daughters (Marie, Susanne, and Louise) so that she can step in and tell her mother that she knew Christy was planning on buying the house. The most natural choice among the three daughters ought to be Marie—not only do she and Christy clearly want to be in a relationship with each other, but she also takes care of Mrs. de Burca while her sisters run off and have their own lives. However, Christy and Marie cannot speak to each other—it is unclear exactly why they cannot be together, or even speak to each other, but it is clear from the first moment they come together at the beginning of the play that they cannot do so. This silence prevents Christy from speaking to Marie about his plans to purchase the house, which means he must turn to one of the other sisters. This silence forwards the action of the story, and ultimately leads to the tragedy at the end of the play.

            To me, there are at least two other very significant silences in The House, both regarding the silence that surrounds violence against women. The first of these is the silence around the domestic violence that Louise is a victim of—this becomes clearest at the dinner table as the three sisters and their mother are eating. In this scene, Louise initially has her back to the audience, but we can see that she is wearing a hat at the table, which seems strange until Susanne leaves the table. When Louise removes her hat and turns to face her mother, the audience sees clearly that she has a black eye. The women do not directly address the fact that she has a black eye; Marie simply places Louise’s hat back on her head and tells her to come in to the pharmacy the next morning. In this scene, Louise is hiding the black eye, and so the silence may perhaps seem natural or understandable. However, Louise does not wear a hat for the rest of the play, though she continues to sport a black eye. It is striking to me that not a single person ever acknowledges the violence she is clearly a victim of (except the comment Marie makes about the pharmacy), in spite of the fact that it is very obviously visible to everyone around her. Whether or not Louise will—or even should—leave her husband so that she is safe is never a question. Rather, the attitude seems to be that she deserves whatever has happened to her.

            The second of the silences surrounding violence against women is just as heartbreaking. One character dies as a result of another character’s actions. This latter character explicitly confesses to only one person, and this person’s response is “no, I won’t tell”—in spite of the fact that this knowledge clearly not only has an enormous impact on the lives of these two characters, but would also have an enormous impact on the lives of everyone else in the community as well. It is both fascinating and heartbreaking to see this response of silence, especially considering the relationship between the deceased and the person hearing the confession. Stronger than anything else is the impulse to protect a male character, at the cost of the female characters in the play. In spite of the shock, horror, and grief that is clear on the listener’s face upon hearing the confession, there is no doubt that the silence will be maintained, no threat or force needed.

            These silences are heartbreaking and perhaps horrifying, but they also do make a lot of sense when we consider much of Irish history, literary or otherwise. When we consider the silence surrounding the abuses perpetrated by members of the Catholic church, or the silence about everything related to the Magdalene Laundries—all of which is in very recent history—this theme of silence is not surprising. The latter case is particularly relevant; not only were the victims of the treatment at the Magdalene Laundries women, but these institutions were no secret. People—not just individuals, but Irish society as a whole, really—knew about these institutions, and had a good idea of what happened there, but everyone kept silent about them. The attitude about these institutions seem largely to be similar to the attitude toward the abuses Louise receives—the women deserved what they got. This attitude is depicted strikingly in Peter Mullan’s film The Magdalene Sisters, as the young women at the Magdalene Laundry walk through the streets together and slowly come to realize that everyone else in the streets looks at them with hostility. There is, of course, violence against women everywhere—and silences surrounding this violence—but The House has been a strong reminder of how commonplace it is to remain silent about these issues; the last Magdalene Laundry, for example, closed in 1996, and The House, with its quiet depiction of the silence surrounding violence against women, debuted at the Abbey in 2000.

The House at the Abbey

Juan Garcia

The House by Tom Murphy tells the story Christy (Declan Conlon), an Irish man returning to Ireland for his annual visit after emigrating. It what began as a touching story to save the house of Mrs. de Burca (Eleanor Methven) and her three daughters Marie (Cathy Belton), Louise (Niamh McCann), and Susanne (Catherine Walker), a place he considers home, Christy becomes morally corrupted through the process of his good deed. Along with dealing with moral corruption, Murphy’s play also deals with issues such as emigrating, home, and the idea of belonging.  

The play begins with introducing the characters of Mother and Marie as well as Christy, who stops by their home for a visit. Christy has been abroad in America and in his annual visit, stops by the de Burca’s home, considering it to be a home for himself due to the absence of both his parents during his upbringing. The audience learns of a little of Christy’s past and his connections to the de Burca’s home and it is during this opening scene in which the audience also learns the fate of the physical house itself. The audience begins to see three of the plays main themes occur early on and only builds upon them as the play progresses. Christy is not the only character in this play that has to deal with the idea of what is home, where do I belong, which all ties in with the theme of emigrating.

Although the exact setting of the play is slightly ambiguous, Murphy gives clues to when the play takes place, occurring during the 1950s, when Ireland faced large number of its citizens immigrating to other lands. Incorporating this event that occurred in Irish history allows Murphy to tackle this idea of home and belonging to a much greater depth because it is an issue that is not just limited to Christy’s characters despite the play being his story. Because the de Burca family is losing their home, this idea of home is attributed to them as well affecting the character of Mother and Susanne the most. During the dinner scene, the audience discovers that when the family discovered that they were losing the house, Susanne gives an impassionate speech about not being consulted on the matter, stating that  “even if [she is] away, [she] belong [there]”, that despite being away she still belonged and deserved to have her opinion on the matter taken into account. Although Susanne is not the most likeable character in this play, her feelings about being excluded strike a chord with us, the audience, due to the fact that everyone at one point deals with these feelings of exclusions.

Despite the fact that not all of the characters leave for another country, just leaving home and returning to discover that home no longer exist still affects each character greatly. During the same dinner sequence, in response to Susanne’s outbreak, Mother, who has been largely ignored concerning the situation of the house, finally voices her feelings. Here, we see two important matters that the play touches on, but does not elaborate much on, the plight of women and the bitter truth that this grand dream does not actually exist. Although the play was great the way it was performed, the fact that it included these other ideas along side its main themes, does leave you wanting to see more, especially after discovering of Louise’s abusive marriage. In one of the plays more touching scenes, Mother consults Louise about her marriage and her behavior towards other men, stating that despite understanding why Louise is doing what she is doing, her actions are wrong because she made commitment but emphasizes her understanding. While the play features a brief look into the plight of women in Irish society through the its female characters, this idea is only briefly touched on in favor of the ideas of home and moral corruption, with a greater emphasis on the males of the play and their plights.

Christy’s character, during the course of the play, becomes morally corrupted through his actions in trying to save not just the de Burca’s home, but also his home. The first time the audience ever sees the dark side of Christy’s character is during one of the bar scenes in which he assaults one of the bar mates. While watching, his actions felt as if they came out of the blue but as the play progresses, make sense as we begin to understand how complex this characters is and what he is capable of. Christy tries desperately to save his home, as does Susanne, and during these interactions between them; he “accidentally” kills her. Although his confession to Mrs. de Burca was heart breaking and performed beautifully, it is questionable on his part due to the fact that we have seen Christy be manipulative to not just the de Burca family but also the character of the attorney.

Overall, Murphy’s The House was an excellent play that was wonderfully performed. The performance from each and every single actor was topnotch, particularly Methven and Conlon’s for their final interaction, a scene that truly made the play for me. Alongside with excellent acting, the sets were fantastic and the transitions between each scene and set left me wonderstruck but perhaps the best part of this play was the fact that it was unpredictable. For once, I could not figure out where the story would go next and what would occur which has to do with all of the ideas and themes incorporated into the piece itself. Although problematic because of this, the fact that the idea of home and belonging are at the forefront of the play make The House a play that will most likely continue to be performed for ages due to the fact that this idea spans generations and touches everyone who watches to a certain degree.

"CULTURE SHOCK" by Ariel Jacobsen

6:00 AM

Wake, Dress, Butterflies

Leave for the Airport

Butterflies

Hug Mom , Hug Dad, Say I’ll Miss you

Plane, Seatbelt, LATE

Goodbye San Francisco, Home, Life

THIS WILL BE THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE

Butterflies

Plane, Seatbelt, LATE AND NEVER GOING TO MAKE IT!

STRANDED

Late

Tired

Never Been So Tired In My Life

Butterflies….. Gone….Left those in NYC

I’VE ARRIVED, FINALLY, HERE FINALLY

I’m READY…

Not Ready Enough

Jet Lag, Stress, Paper

“Ariel, Do We Know Where We’re Going?”

NOT ENOUGH TIME, NEVER ENOUGH TIME

LOST

But It’s a New City, New People, New Friends

BUT

ITS ALL NEW!

New Uncertainty, New Learning, Creating, Forgetting

Forgetting Who I am….

OR

Simply Letting Go

Creating a “New” ARIEL

This trip has changed me forever

BUT

We’re all together, We’re in this TOGETHER!

“We Will Remember This Trip Forever”

Lauren Hart, the author, and Kasondra Walsh

"Riverdance"- Tuesday, July 3

          Our first week in this course we were asked what came to mind when we thought of Ireland? From leprechauns to Angela's Ashes, I listed every stereotypical answer I could summon and Riverdance was definitely on it. I admit, I knew little about Ireland and even less about Irish dance when I began this program, but thanks to What the Folk!, Up and Over It, and a few interesting lectures, I got a crash course on the subject. Riverdance is a theatrical show that fuses traditional Irish dance with elements of ballet, tap, and tango, in order to tell the story of the Irish immigration to America. Although, there was a clear preservation of traditional Irish dance within the performances, there were also many altered components to several pieces that assisted in highlighting Irish-American dance. Traditional Irish dance consists of rapid leg movements while the upper portion of the body remains largely stationary and most of the performances stayed true to this blueprint. However, there were two particular segments that utilized other types of dance, which in turn emphasized some issues related to gender and class.

            During one of our lectures someone asked a question regarding the lack of upper body movement in traditional Irish dance, and although, there was no concrete answer given there were many theories verbalized. One theory suggested that at a time of puritanical Catholicism the church believed that the female body posed too much of a temptation if it were to bounce and flail about. In an effort to make dancing visually neutral and morally acceptable, dancers had to keep their backs straight, as well as their arms stiff and to their sides. Another theory, that was voiced by a performer in What the Folk!, claimed that the clergy's disapproval of certain aspects of dance forced the people to participate in secret. In order for those who wanted to dance, without being tainted by the stigma associated with defying the Catholic church, their upper bodies would remain rigid just in case a passing priest looked through the window of their home.

            In Riverdance, their was a piece where a woman dressed in red appeared with her arms raised above her head and dancing flames illuminating her figure. As she glided across the stage her arms moved sensually through the air and over her body repeatedly, while her torso and hips swayed to the beat. She was clearly imitating some essential features found in Latin dance (I think it might have been tango, but I'm not entirely certain), which not only indicated the modifications America elicited in Irish dance, but the transformation it had on experiences of  female sexuality for Irish and other immigrants. Unlike most of the female dancers on stage that night, this particular performer moved in a seductively fluid manner, which punctuated her sexuality and called attention to every facet of her shape.  Even the costume she wore (a long red dress that prominently displayed her feminine attributes) defied traditional attire, which demonstrates the effect America had on Irish immigrants in relation gender roles. Not only has this clash of cultures resulted in alterations of traditional Irish dance, but it has readjusted the way females portray themselves to the public. We have discussed the possibility that the reasoning behind such a stationary upper body was due to the history of sexual repression inflicted by the church. Furthermore, the church is notoriously known for restricting and even controlling what is considered acceptable for females to do with their bodies on and off the stage. Riverdance communicates how these long standing rules and regulations disintegrate when surrounded by a new environment that does not uphold the same doctrine.

            Listening to the many theories introduced in and out of class regarding the style of traditional Irish dance peaked my interest, and I soon found myself doing a little research of my own to determine if there was a concrete explanation. I discovered that there are limited definite records of why this is, but there are an abundance of stories. Many alleged reasons relate in some way to the English's occupation of Ireland, and the subsequent suppression of Irish culture. One particular story is that a group of Irish dancers were forced to perform for the Queen. These dancers refused to raise their arms to her and kept them firmly by their sides out of defiance, as well as to illustrate their displeasure at being reduced to spectacles and utilized as a means of amusement. It is quite possible that this event actually happened, and the Queen referenced is more than likely Elizabeth I. She reportedly enjoyed Irish “jigs,” and there is an ample amount of evidence that supports the notion that dances of Irish origin were performed in her court. For instance, when royalty would visit Ireland they were greeted at the shore by Irish dancers. In this case, defiance would be a natural response after the oppression that was inflicted on the Irish for centuries (since Irish culture was effectively outlawed by the Statute of Kilkenny in the 14th century by forbidding interaction, intermarriage or the passing down of Irish language and custom

between English colonists and indigenous Irish residents).  

            In Riverdance the issue of class was touched upon when we were introduced to the black tap dancer who performed a solo. The fact that tap and traditional Irish dance are so similar illustrated the parallel between the oppression faced by both parties in their respective countries. During lecture we discussed how the Irish referred to themselves as the “blacks of Europe,” due to the treatment they had endured by British hands. Although, this kinship wasn't realized initially during the performance, it was obvious by the conclusion. The black tap dancer and the three Irish-Americans in the piece originally observed the differences in their style of dance, which escalated into a sort of rivalry, and eventually, turned into mockery. The trio of traditional Irish dancers would imitate the solo black dancers active upper body movements with exaggeration, and the tap dancer would reply with his own concoction of traditional Irish dance. It was not until they actual watched the precise actions being executed that it dawned on all of them how their similarities far outweighed their differences. After this there seemed to be an automatic kinship that had formed, which led to a joint performance where both genres of dance were incorporated. This merger expresses a bond felt by both parties (at least in this performance) as second class citizens in America, as well as in Ireland for those of Irish descent.

            Riverdance is suppose to be a representation of traditional Irish dance, but instead it is a melting pot of cultures that have been influenced by one another. It tells the story of Irish culture in America, their journey as immigrants, and how past decrees and injustices were addressed. When I was leaving the theatre I heard many of the audience members praise the performance and just as many ridicule it. I wasn't particularly moved or revolted, it was an experience that allowed me to reflect on some of the things I've learned in this course. I guess at the end that makes it worthwhile.

~Saba Bekele

            

Dancing with John Scott from Irish Modern Dance Theatre on July 4- definitely no "Riverdance" here!

(National) Performance in Everyday Life: Some Reflections on Tourism and Identity

            As I’ve walked through the streets of Ireland along with my peers we often run into people asking us: Where are you from? Which part of America are you from? Some of us in the study abroad group come from different ethnic backgrounds, and define ourselves with other backgrounds, rather than just “American,” for instance: Ethiopian, Armenian or Mexican; however, when asked what our backgrounds are in Ireland, we typically have defined ourselves as simply, “Americans,” with no hyphenation. I never thought much of it until I stumbled upon a young Irishman who asked me: “What are you really? I mean I know you are an American, but you must be something else as well." I said "Oh yeah, well I'm Salvadorian.” In a recent class discussion, my professor, Charlotte McIvor, shared with us a bit of her experience as an Irish-American woman working and living in Irish society. She defined herself as being “somewhere in between" both cultures, hence she juggles her American and Irish heritage while submerging herself completely in both cultures as she has worked and lived in America, and will now work and live in Ireland. Her commentary brought me to think about how much I have questioned my own cultural identity. As a Salvadorian-American I could immediately relate to her own self-description because I have always felt the same way as if I am somewhere in between the middle of both places and cultures. Interestingly, while in Ireland I often have abandoned the complexity of my background and have represented myself as just an American.

            As I’ve spent more time in Dublin these questions came into my head and made me wonder about my performance in Ireland as a Salvadorian-American and the performance of Ireland’s “Irishness” in contrast to my “Americanness.” I came to think that "Irishness" is a performance put on for outsiders of Irish culture, in which some individuals native to Ireland display utterances and patterns that might seem “Irish”. But as a matter of fact are an attempt to define their personal identity to foreigners. For instance, when on a Viking tour our tour guide had a thick Irish accent and he also made sure to mention stereotypical facts about Ireland such as whiskey as a remedy for cold.  He was attempting to identify himself as an Irish man and the way he did so was by identifying himself with stereotypical assumptions of Irishmen.

          In the same way, Irish people might have expectations for Americans as well. For instance, my two girlfriends and I were sitting at an Irish bar in which a man started to ask us questions about the show Jersey Shore and followed by making sexualized comments and comparing us to the women on the show, as if he expected us to be the same way. I felt as if there was a prior expectation of who we were and we didn’t ignore the man but rather talked about ourselves and our “Americanness.” We were ourselves in a way, but also made sure to talk about our American lives, we were by saying things like “No we’re not like that, we’re loud but we are definitely not like Jersey Shore girls” or “No, us Americans watch a lot of T.V. but we hate Jersey Shore, it’s trash.” In the same way we generalized ourselves to this stereotypical idea about us because we felt as if we were expected to have certain lifestyle. We utilized them to identity ourselves in a certain group, but also switched them around by also clarifying.

            As an American visiting Ireland, I believe that between Ireland and the U.S we often share mutual expectations from each other culturally and these suppositions set the ground rules for the interplay we experience as visitors of Ireland.  The kind of performance we exchange will often depend on the place, the person and the context in which we communicate. When I question or think about my experience in Ireland, I often analyze myself and my own behavior and I realize I too put up a performance, but rather than stereotypical, or self-indulgent it is self-representative of how or who I want people to perceive me as. I think some Irish people do the same.

          I have come to see Ireland’s art as an outlet to talk about their social, political and cultural issues; most of the art I have been exposed to has been culturally relevant to unspoken topics in Ireland. For instance, the show What the Folk! which talks about the general perspective people have of Irish Folk tradition in music and dance or the show of Ourselves Alone which talks about the conflicts and lives of women involved in the Northern conflicts during the 1970s. 

          In my experience of day to day life in Ireland the talk of conflicts or social issues regarding Ireland are often omitted or touched upon lightly and humorously. My experience with a historian of Ireland who guided my tour of the city is that he touched upon social issues and political conflicts in a humorous way, for example he said something along the lines of “I’m still going to therapy for the visit of the queen last year”, referring to the visit of Queen Elizabeth to Ireland last year, along with making fun of U.S. President Barack Obama.  Experiencing the differences between shows and tourist performances, have helped me grasp and understand more of Ireland’s social culture. I rapidly understood that in this country there are guarded feelings about history, and in some ways they do manifest to foreigners through the behaviors of Irish people.

            My feelings and thoughts of Ireland have formed based on my day to day interactions and a large amount of theatrical and artful exposure in a short period of time; although, a few weeks is not nearly enough time to grasp a deeper understanding of Irish-ness or Irish culture, I do think my short time in Ireland has allowed me to understand the complexities of Ireland’s history and its ongoing development as a culture and as a country. More importantly, I have gained respect and understanding towards Irish culture because I have come to grasp the origins of their social troubles and also recognize the immense and rapid progress they have achieved in a short period of time.

~Diana Vergara

Clockwise from upper right: Moni Wright, Diana Vergara (author), 

Saba Bekele and Danielle Diaz

“A Terrible State O’ Chassis!”: Irish masculinity in "Juno and the Paycock" and "Translations"

           Each and every one of us has seen some conception of the stereotype of the Irish drunkard. This figure of the gallivanting man, always searching for his next drink, pervades many people’s ideas of what Irish masculinity entails. He is not just present in outsider’s observations, however, but makes his way into the works of famous Irish writers including Sean O’Casey and Brian Friel. Both of these authors struggle with this stereotype, present it on stage, and then alter it to reflect some degree of truth in Irish masculinity. In Casey’s Juno and the Paycock and Friel’s Translations, both playwrights portray a drunken father and his equally drunken crony that seem to fall easily into the realm of stereotype. Within these representations of stereotype, Casey and Friel present us with men who are not caricatures but are instead figures struggling daily with the difficulties of Irish masculinity in a rapidly changing world. The pairs of Boyle and Boxer of Juno and Hugh and Jimmy of Translations present the reader with figures that transcend mere stereotype and instead portray men who are unable to cope with the world around them and the weight of masculinity.

            Alcohol in these works is used to distance the men from a society where they have become quickly unwelcome and insecure. For example, Boyle is a man incapable of leaving his past behind. In a world in turbulent political struggle, he struts about in his sea-man’s regalia, his occupation of older years, and uses his “lame leg” as an excuse to not find any other work. His son’s involvement in IRA movements and the world’s fear of further death and destruction are ignored by the oblivious father. Boyle is the “paycock” of the story, the man so self-indulgent and insecure that he holds onto those moments when he once possessed dignity, choosing to live in the past rather than the present. His drunkenness then is symptomatic of this insecurity, and is utilized as a means by which to ignore the atrocities of the Irish Civil War, only fleetingly mentioned with, “Th’ whole worl’s…in a terrible state o’ chassis!” Similarly, Hugh is another father figure unable to let go of the past and confront the present. He clings to his teachings in Greek and Latin, as well as the teachings of ancient philosophers, yet is all too aware of the rapidly shifting society around him. When the worst news finally arrives in the play’s finale, that he will not be the new school teacher as initially promised, he states what he has known all along, “I am a barbarian in this place because I am not understood by anyone.”  Much like Boyle, Hugh utilizes alcohol as a means of repressing the horrors and difficulties of the present, as well as his own alienation from the people around him. While these men attempt to escape their present world, the realities of Irish masculinity are revealed. Both Boyle and Hugh are fathers, the all-important patriarchal figure of the Irish family, yet they are incapable of assuming their required roles. Neither can support the role of the care giver as Boyle refuses to take a job and Hugh’s teaching would not even receive its payment if not for another male, Manus, assuming the role of accountant. They both hold onto their past, for Boyle a time when he was successful and the world was simple while for Hugh a time of loftier thought and greater aspirations, because they are incapable of dealing with their tumultuous present. The presence of alcohol is not the reason for the displacement but is rather used by the author’s as a symbol for the Irish man’s attempts to relieve himself from the burden of the present and future.

            Hugh and Boyle may be similar in their stance as symbolic male patriarchs but it is in their respective behavior with their cohorts, Jimmy and Joxer, where contrasts begin to mount. Chief among these contrasts is the presence of intellectualism. Of the four men, Hugh, Jimmy, and even Joxer are presented as being intellectual while the clueless Boyle is left out. This simplicity in the thoughts and ideas of Boyle lead to a much different relationship from that found with Hugh and Jimmy. Boyle, the quintessential Irish drunk, is lampooned by the simultaneously satirical yet truthful Joxer. He steals from Boyle, assists in his constant search for drink, and utilizes him to his own ends but it is Joxer, however, who is entirely self-aware of the life he and Boyle live, which culminates in his sentiment of, “Pull all…your throubles…in your oul’ kit-bag…an’ smile…smile…smile!” Despite his ability to recognize his faults, the intelligent Joxer still follows his drinking buddy until the end, leaving the audience assuming his continued “friendship” with Boyle. O’Casey within this relationship rips open stereotypes of Irish masculinity by having the intelligent, seemingly powerful Joxer follow in the footsteps of his impotent friend. The intelligence which Boyle needs to carry on in his difficult world is instead relegated to the uncaring, good for nothing Joxer.  Even in the world of Translations, the two scholarly men utilize self-deception despite being conscious of their own faults. By the play’s finale, both men have recognized that, “Our piety…was for older, quieter things”, distancing themselves from any responsibility involving the loss of Yellonde and the assumed burning of the village. Their exchange, unlike that of Boyle and Joxer, may be slightly more coherent and fulfilled but it echoes the same sentiments: that none of these men are capable of carrying their roles as Irish males. What all of this self-delusion and alcohol ultimately culminates in, however, is that these men refuse to accept their world and use various techniques to repress the world around them.

            Friel and O’Casey both utilize what can be an often hurtful stereotype and attempt to garner what truth they can from its presentation. Despite being 40 years apart, both of their plays represent Irish masculinity in a hauntingly similar way. Whether he is intelligent, barbaric, well-spoken, or base the Irish drunkard potently manifests himself in these works. The stereotype is, of course, not entirely true but the author’s utilize it because speaks towards a larger truth in the masculine condition. In my opinion, O’Casey and Friel create these characters to present the Irish male as utilizing alcohol to cover their own repression of guilt, ineptitude, and/or failures as a man. Each of these characters who can so easily be thrown aside as a drunkard are instead men who are complicated figures that are incapable or afraid of fulfilling the role society begs of them and thus repress their own responsibilities. From the other works we have read, and my own experiences with Irish culture, this is still a concept that still seems present today. As our tour guide Larkin told us when we took the Easter Rebellion tour, Irish people today repress their knowledge, or lack of knowledge, involving the Civil War because they choose not to confront the sticky political situation it presents. Boyle and Joxer used this exact same repression except for them the problem was even more immediate, nasty, and brutal. This is not to say that repression is merely something the Irish do or that it is linked solely to alcohol abuse, but in the sense that O’Casey and Friel present their characters the alcohol is merely symbolic of a desire to drown problems rather than face them head on. Both authors seem to be confronting Irish masculinity head on asking the men of their nation to not shy away from the problems of the present and the past but instead face them head on for the good of their country. The Irish nation today is moving away from their use of repression and it is figures such as Boyle and Joxer, Jimmy and Hugh that act as warnings, despite their stereotypical origination, of the dangers of using repression to struggle through a rapidly changing world.

~Kody Messner

Speaking of masculinity...The gentlemen of the group... 

From left: Galvin Mathis, Mayhan Bimar, Juan Garcia and the author Kody Messner

Avry Schellenbach on "The Battle of the Sexes"

*The study of gender and sexuality has proven central to our class discussions these past several weeks.  The next few posts will reflect on these discussions from different student perspectives.           

           Every play read, seen, or acted involves the defining of characters with masculine or feminine outlines. Ireland’s history of a repressed Catholic culture predisposes these boundaries and roles. Although similar to the roles in the United States, Irish masculinity and femininity are pulled into three major tropes: men using violence as currency for masculinity, strong women being villainized and demeaned, and the idea of women as interchangeable sex objects.

            Masculinity, as portrayed in Irish theater, involves violence. In Howie the Rookie, Howie Lee’s “rep is, an’ everyone knows this, he’s a goer goes all the way,” (p. 53). Howie is known as a violent individual and this garners him respect. When his friend, Peaches, gets scabies the end result is a beating for the man they deem responsible. In this way, masculinity is achieved and strengthened through violence: the more violent one is, the more masculine. This is seen as a sort of currency, since during the time period this piece is set in the country was extremely poor. The youth of this time had little money to settle disputes, and therefore violence was used as a means of currency, to repay debts, to be vindicated and so forth. There is also an interplay between sexuality and masculinity. “People fear The Ladyboy” potentially because he is violent, but mainly because he is “other,” (p. 37). The Ladyboy is frightening because he is the antithesis of what they know and they have a difficult time understanding how to categorize The Ladyboy. Because of this ambiguity, The Ladyboy needs to be extra violent to firmly assert his manliness; “As Ladyboy opened wide, just before he took two fingers off at the knuckles,” (p. 37). This violent proof of masculinity is not seen in the openly homosexual character, Ollie, who does not get to participate in the group beating. Ollie is in the restroom when his gang decides to continue the beating of The Rookie without waiting for Ollie. Ollie does not need to assert his masculinity through violence because his sexual orientation is not regarded as a masculine orientation.

            Other plays involve this same trope of violence as a depiction of masculinity. The Playboy of the Western World marks a clear distinction between the story of violence and the physical portrayal of violence. Christy is seen as a charming and eligible man because of the story he tells about killing his father, but as soon as this act is enacted in person, the townspeople call Christy immoral and threaten to hang him. Pegeen says, “There’s a great gap between a gallous story and a dirty deed,” (p.110). This distinction divides the story of violence as more masculine than the deed itself. Reputation provides ideas of manliness over overt physical violence. However, in most of the plays, physical violence is indeed used as a means for banking masculine brownie points (as demonstrated in Howie the Rookie). However, in most of these plays the violence is done for the audience of men within the narratives, rather than in The Playboy of the Western World the violence is done for an audience of mainly women. In Disco Pigs, the character of Pig becomes increasingly more violent throughout the play, attempting to impress his love interest, Runt. This use of violence is to protect “property” – Runt – from other individuals who are perceived, by Pig, as trying to deceive him. Pig needs to display his masculinity through his violence as well as lay claim to his perceived property through the killing of a man showing attention to Runt. This warped violence enforces Pig’s belief of his entitlement to Runt, disregarding her agency.

            Women characters in Irish plays are hardly given any agency, and if they are they are undermined and demeaned. The femininity of these characters is reduced to villainy, because they possess traits typically associated with men (strength, tenacity, autonomy). They are condemned for acting like men. Pegeen, a strong woman character in The Playboy of the Western World, is stripped of agency by her father. He chooses a “shy and decent Christian…for my daughter’s hand,” (p. 104). Pegeen, although very wild, is unable to make her own choices about who to wed, and when she proclaims she will marry otherwise her father says, “Aren’t you a heathen daughter to go shaking the fat of my heart,” villainizing her for her autonomy (p.105). Widow Quinn, another strong female character in The Playboy of the Western World, is also villainized; she is accused of killing her husband (as she plainly admits to) and is therefore highly regarded as an awful individual. The extreme distinction between masculinity and femininity plays out in the reaction to the beliefs that Widow Quinn killed her husband and that Christy killed his father. Both are tales, yet the Widow Quinn is looked to as an evil and immoral person that no one wants to speak with, whereas Christy is celebrated and found attractive and desirable. Avalanche, a forceful and determined female character in Howie the Rookie, is described as a “dirty fat cunt,” (p. 31). Howie Lee “had her three times and dug it to fuck,” (p. 13). The language describing Avalanche is cruel and villainous, portraying her as this grotesque figure, only suitable for sex.

            The trope of women as disposable sex objects is seen in most of these Irish plays as well. In Howie the Rookie, the Rookie sleeps with a new girl almost every night, “Handsome bastard, I am. Bit attractive to the dollys, they’re into me. Find them easy to pick up, easy to get. Break Hearts an’ hymens, I do,” (p. 34). There is no regard for these women and they do not matter to the Rookie – these women are interchangeable objects of sexual gratification, used and discarded. In The Playboy of the Western World there are three girls from the town that come to call on Christy. Each of them makes explicit sexual innuendos. In the stage directions there is a thick description for each character, except these three girls. Even in the writing, the women are meant to be interchangeable objects of desire, without substance. In Cathleen ni Houlihan the mother and the intended daughter-in-law are typical homemakers, preoccupied with facets of the upcoming wedding. These women are not substantial characters and their femininity is portrayed through stereotypical domestic duties. They are wife and mother, they are quite, they are busying themselves with household chores and preoccupied with wedding worries.

            Many of these tropes about femininity and masculinity are seen in the United States. Women are overly sexualized and men are overly violent to clearly establish the delineation between the sexes. Most American TV series show women in scantily clad clothing, fawning over muscular men who tend to punch people. The themes are similar, the history behind them are different. Irish tropes of masculinity and femininity come from their Catholic roots and from the need to substitute violence as currency rather than money. These cultural differences provide the undercurrent for the violent masculinity trope as well as strong women as villains or women as interchangeable sex objects. The importance lies in understanding the history of the Irish culture to be able to make informed analyses about the texts, rather than taking these stereotypes at face value.

The author enjoying some Irish stew in Cork.