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| Before I had even set foot in the theatre, I had been told
that I would love this play. "The Irish dance," people would say,
as though this were all that need be said to conjure up its wonder. "The
Irish dance!" Yet, should you need a little more than this to convince
you, then the sheer energy, focus, and closely observed humour should prove
more than enough to satisfy even the pickiest of theatre-goers.
In rural County Kerry, the lives of the locals have been turned upside down by the arrival of a Hollywood film crew, and primary mention must go to Malcolm Adams and Hugh Lee who, despite being the only members of cast, people the stage with an array of characters, from Hollywood actresses and directors, to local priests and, by inference, cows. Written here, this device may sound a little contrived, yet far from being a gimmick which wears thin, holding up the narrative, it serves rather to move the story-telling along with added exuberance. Favourite among the cornucopia of characters must surely be 'Ashley', the twenty year old film set co-ordinator, all up-and-coming and doe eyes. The actors rarely leave the stage 'between characters', and costume too is minimal, so to see the tall and ruggedly attractive Lee suddenly transformed into a flirtatious young Hollywood wannabe (complete with hair tossing) is unnerving to say the least. More unnerving still is Adams' portrayal of Caroline Giovanni, the Southern American sex-bomb star, flirting with Jake - "a sex object with an accent" - in order to obtain his help with her own unconvincing brogue. Adams himself could perhaps do with a bit of help with his Southern drawl, yet is nonetheless an, albeit occasionally embarrassing, joy. Never before have I seen a grown man pout with such intent. On the whole, however, the play focuses around the growing friendship between Jake Quinn (Lee), a local boy recently returned from New York (where he had summarily failed to make his fortune), and Charlie Conlon (Adams), a Northern Irish and newly-broke ex-video store owner, who meet when they, along with the rest of the village, are hired as extras for the film. The story follows their brush with the American dream they all in one way or another look to for hope. For Sean Harkin, seventeen, drugged up and thrown out of his local pub in front of his own people for daring to speak to Miss Giovanni, reality just isn't enough, and with stones in his pockets he walks into the river and drowns himself. Whether the townsfolk, most of whom are related to the boy, can attend the funeral, depends on how the end of filming is going. Written by Marie Jones, Stones in His Pockets is a wonderful piece, comic and thought-provoking by turns, but always well executed. Most of all, you'll come away deeply impressed by the versatility of the actors. And, well. The Irish dance. Rebecca Smith, 28.04.03 |
