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Translations Director: David Mealor Holden Street Theatres, Until Sat 8 Oct  Brian
Friel, born in 1929 and still kicking, is regarded as Ireland's most
distinguished living playwright - credited with raising cultural awareness
and exposing socio-political myths and truths. First performed in 1980 in Derry, it's difficult not to correlate 'Translations' with the troubles in Northern Ireland, it being set specifically in 1833 - less than a generation after a rebellion against English rule and shortly after a movement for increased civil rights. Only four years earlier, laws were repealed to allow Catholics to hold office and buy land. However, the hamlet of Baile Beag hadn't quite caught up with the times, and the action takes place at a remnant hedge school where Catholics were taught the classics and mathematics in previously clandestine circumstances. This time, lessons are interrupted by Imperial military surveyors to inform the townsfolk they are re-inventing the landscape by swapping Gaelic for English names - in the name of progress. It took about as long for the play to get started as it did for the students to settle down to class after the opening bell. We were introduced to character after character as they entered the room and mucked around like a TAFE class. Like many of his compatriots, Friel explores language with great appreciation and care. Here the Empire will grow by imposing the King's English, and meaning is transposed in translation. Although the Irish of the day would speak Gaelic and the Imperialists only English - Friel conveys the language barrier with effective devices, including an Irish collaborator. The script certainly had an Australian resonance. British aims and methods were the same in Australia at about the same time, and the upright Captain Lancey and sensitive Lieutenant Yolland reminded me of Governor Hindmarsh and the delicate Colonel Light. Written in the style of a classic Greek play, the wider action happens offstage and we feel the characters' responses amplified by a chorus of townsfolk. First-time director David Mealor re-created the Holden Theatre space into a narrow strip spreading the action across the imaginary curtain. Mangled Irish accents took centre stage before and after Elena Carapetis spoke with clarity. At the heart of the play is the relationship between the quisling played by Bill Allert and the whimsical surveyor Yolland, portrayed by Stephen Sheehan. While Allert provided an excited Owen, Owen's conflict between his own people and his new masters didn't quite come across. Sheehan was absolutely delightful in his wonder of Ireland, his sensitivity, and the naivety which was to prove his downfall. The scene between Sheehan and Carapetis was full of charm and humour, and later Carapetis made her Maire's grief deeply moving. Kerry Reid's set was disappointing: instead of representing the pre-colonial bucolic simplicity referred to so lovingly by the lovesick Yolland, we got a bombed-out Baghdad bunker complete with Desert Storm camouflage. Although Mealor assembled an extremely strong cast of eleven, the fullness of Friel's words and themes were compromised by poor enunciation and inappropriately paced dialogue and action. Every character needs to manifest the political metaphor and represent a facet of the conflict, which in itself is a generalisation for the many conflicts of our day. Whatever; bravo to David Mealor who also produced this work - the premiere production of his new company, Flying Penguins. Mealor sees an opportunity to provide Adelaide's highly skilled and under-appreciated actors with a stage, and that can only be good for all of us.  |
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