Tracing one man's journey through a city in crisis, Ten Plagues charts the great plague of 1665. Part torch song, part Schubert song cycle, this groundbreaking piece of music-theatre was originally written for iconic singer Marc Almond and premiered at the Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh in 2011.
Drawing from the biblical story of the Israelites who survived the plagues wrought upon the Egyptians, Ten Plagues projects that tale of survival forward through 1665 when the Black Death (The Great Plague) devastated London, to the 20th century emergence of AIDS - The Gay âPlagueâ as it was homophobically labelled in sections of the media - and charts the impact of living through the onslaught of this most modern disease.
Mark Ravenhill and Conor Mitchell's award winning AIDS polemic comes to the Lyric stage once more for the start of LGBTQ+ Pride week, and is performed by Matthew Cavan accompanied by the composer.
The score is dense with a musical complexity rarely found in the form. Mitchellâs formidable technical ability enables the interesting melodic lines and harmonic textures to weave a mature musical narrative with a sophisticated dynamic subtlety.
Matthew Cavan delivers a stellar incarnation of the singular role originally performed by Almond. Within his melodic marathon, Cavan delivers a performance with an enviable musical maturity and emotional depth. At times genuinely affecting, his characterisation is unquestionably authentic and profoundly memorable.
The production and moving image design however are by contrast distinctly lacklustre. Disappointingly, the back projections do little to compliment the unique narrative of the piece, are at times extremely distracting and surprisingly utilise imagery already seen in some of the Ensembleâs previous work. Nevertheless, the use of a more original and relevant moving image design would undoubtedly add another dimension to an otherwise flawless work.
âa potentially interesting narrative that fails to deliverâ
We Like It Here is a new play from Headrush Productions, a Belfast Creative Collective, that centres around three sisters (Adele Gribbon, Maeve Smyth & Mary OâLoan) living in the fictional rural town of Ballyarby. With their father missing, the sisters have only themselves and the village guard Thomas (Cailum Carragher) to keep their world in Ballyarby alive.
In a text that lacks depth and emotional gravity, the ensemble of Gribbon, Smyth and OâLoan deliver assured performances of a potentially interesting narrative that is in some ways reminiscent of Chekovâs âThree Sistersâ. Fortunately, much needed light-relief from the desolate plot and stilted dialogue is provided by an ably comedic Gribbon and an (almost entire) episode of Friends! With the eventual arrival of Thomas, the overall dynamic becomes so disrupted that the viewer is rendered indifferent and at times exhausted.
Written by Jonathan M. Daley and directed by Emily Foran, We LIke It Here attempts to deconstruct Irish family and the frustrations of rural living in a poorly paced and clunky production. Set within âtheir living roomâ, as purported by the productionâs preamble; a single wall with multiple misplaced doors and windows sits on a diagonal with pathways of dirt and gravel downstage (Set designer: Tracey Lindsay). Whilst this facilitates some interesting passages, particularly in the contrast between light and shadow (Lighting designer: Alan Mooney), one has to wonder if a more traditional setting would have better enabled the story.
We Like It Here attempts to explore a boundary between fact and fiction, the nature of family, and how we cope with isolation; however, frustratingly falls flat in a what is a wholly underwhelming production of a text with limited potential.
Set everywhere and nowhere, in a post-apocalyptic dystopia not far from reality, the latest film from the acclaimed British auteur Andrew Kötting is a metaphysical allegory that is both arresting and disturbing.
Lek and the Dogs takes inspiration from the 2010 Hattie Naylor play that tells the true story of Ivan Mishukov who, after being thrown out of his home as a child, spent two years living on the streets of Moscow, befriending a pack of wild dogs that became his companions and guardians. In Köttingâs film, the adult Lek (Xavier Tchili) looks back upon his feral life, armed with a cassette recorder on which his younger self (voiced by Clay Barnard) recorded his formative experiences.
An overwhelming collage of sound and vision, Lek and the Dogs manages to expertly combine bleak contemporary scenes filmed in Chile with archive footage and soundscape to create a film that asks as many questions as it answers. Almost Beckett-esque at times in its narrative, Lek and the Dogs uses insightful narration from three female psychologists - adult, child and canine - juxtaposed against the central male character (as both child and adult) to explore the complexities of humanity, relationships and mortality. Employing spectacular cinematography throughout, most notably in the closing scenes set in a canine cemetery, Lek and the Dogs is a cinematic experience to be remembered.
Aoife McArdleâs stylish debut feature heralds a promising evolution in Irish cinema. While the muddled plot and somewhat affected characters do little to inspire, the visual landscape created by McArdle and her cinematographer Steve Annis does so in spades. In Kissing Candice, McArdle has delivered a visually impressive film, with some solid acting performances all be they within an under-developed story and meandering narrative.
Set in a presumably fictional Irish coastal town during an ill-defined time period - cars are old, nightclubs are modern, pubs are dated, no lead characters have mobile phones despite a Blackberry oddly appearing in one scene! - the film unfolds in a surreal, almost dystopian post-Troubles Ireland.
Candice, convincingly played by Ann Skelly, is the daughter of a world-weary over-protective police sergeant (John Lynch) who suffers from epilepsy. Following occasional fits, Candice experiences dreamlike visions where she imagines kissing her âperfectâ boyfriend (Ryan Lincoln) who, to both her and our astonishment, later materialises as Jacob - a member of a violent local gang. Jacob breaks rank to rescue Candice from a roadside assault and attempted kidnapping by his gang-mates from whom he is then ostracised and ultimately hunted. Candice's infatuation with Jacob puts her in increasing jeopardy as she ignores her father's warnings and anchors herself to her beau.
Not dissimilar to the post-seizure haze experienced by its titular character, Kissing Candice combines the hard and soft with varied success. The artful production design and cinematography utilise a distinctive colour palette to give us some truly remarkable and memorable passages. Complemented by a unique soundscape, created in part by an original score from the gifted Jon Clarke, the overall result is a modern cinematic experience that packs a sensory punch. Unfortunately, while all technical successes are admirable, the lack of a believable story, investable characters or an emotional arc is a definite shortcoming and renders the audience emotionally indifferent to a potentially engaging plot. That being said, there are many aspects to Kissing Candice with which McArdle can be proud and we should collectively await her next directorial instalment with interest, in the hope that she turns her very obvious talent to a more developed story. Â
The Belfast Ensemble / Naughton Studio, Lyric Theatre Belfast / 20 - 24 June
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âa unique theatrical experienceâ
Rarely has a Naughton Studio performance delivered a punch with such clout - behold (and prepare yourselves for) the latest instalment from the inimitable Belfast Ensemble:Â âThe Fall of the House of Usherâ. Conor Mitchellâs disturbing and insightful interpretation of the fabled Edgar Allan Poe short story had tonightâs audience stunned and engrossed in equal measure.
This contemporary production of a gothic tale forced the somewhat nonexpectant audience to examine Poeâs themes of mental illness, bereavement, relationships and isolation within an environment dense with sensory stimulation - an expert realisation of a âmodern theatrical experienceâ in the European tradition.
Mitchell, through his narrator, channels the essential components of Poeâs narrative sentiment to create an atmosphere of pure evil in a âmansion of gloomâ that explores the disrupted dynamic between the disturbed Roderick (Tony Flynn), his haunting sister Madeline (Abigail McGibbon) and his loving Servant (Matthew Cavan).
A clever contemporary set (Mark McPhillips), designed in the round evoking portraiture with âabsent eyesâ, accompanied 21st century-inspired dynamic video projections to create an interesting landscape upon which the foot-perfect actors embodied their charactersâ âsoulsâ, rendering the audience transfixed at every balletic gesture.
The live chamber orchestra of strings, woodwind and keyboards, directed by the accomplished Tom Brady, created a soundscape not dissimilar to one composed by the much-wanted love-child of Antonio Vivaldi and Philip Glass - a truly remarkable musical feat! Despite unseemly amplification in passages, the overall effect was something quite mesmerising and suitably complemented the charactersâ emotional narrative with aplomb.
Tony Flynn delivers a dialogue-free performance to be both envied and admired - his encapsulation of the tormented Roderick left his audience believing, and in disbelief. Flynn is ably accompanied by his dutiful (and somewhat loving) Servant, prodigiously played by a posture-perfect Matthew Cavan who delivers an emotionally dense performance that is beyond comparison. Throughout, both are tortured and psychologically tormented by Madeline, a role embodied by the (again!) wonderful Abagail McGibbon - her captivating, almost tear-worthy monologues traversed the fine lines between lucidity and insanity, the real and the surreal with consummate skill and precision. This triptych of âdisturbingâ characters, in this at times Beckett-esque production, do not disappoint.
Overall, âThe Fall of The House of Usherâ is a singular theatrical experience that could have embraced the gothic style of Poeâs origins more vividly; however, remains one not to be missed!
Tickets available:
 https://lyrictheatre.co.uk/event/the-fall-of-the-house-of-usher/
