by AMY BARRATT

The five Mundy sisters in Dancing at Lughnasa are living in an Ireland torn between the past and the present. It is a country steeped in the Catholic religion, and yet maintaining equally intense ties to pre-Christian religious traditions.

The year is 1936 and, as one character puts it, the Industrial Revolution has finally found its way to Ireland. In the county Donegal town of Ballybeg, the family lives a dirt-poor life, but at least thus far they have managed to stay self-sufficient, the stronger taking care of the weaker members of the clan. All of this is about to change forever.

In Brian Friel’s play, currently being staged by McGill’s Department of English, we meet the five spinsters, ranging in age from late 20s to about 40, during the pagan harvest festival of Lughnasa. The story is narrated by Michael, the “lovechild” of youngest-sister Christina. Michael, whom we see only as an adult, not as the seven year old he is meant to be in the memory play, is doted on by all his aunts, but his very existence sets the family apart from their neighbours.

The Mundys’ strangeness in the eyes of the town is only increased when “Uncle Jack,” the sisters’ older brother, returns home after 25 years as a missionary in Africa. It quickly becomes evident that Jack has not only lost much of his English vocabulary after years of living in Swahili, he has also chucked Christianity in favour of the beliefs and rituals of the tribes he lived among in Uganda. Things are shaken up even more when Gerry Evans, the charming but irresponsible father of Michael, turns up for a brief visit.

The success of the play depends on establishing the strong relationships between the five women, relationships marked by strong personality clashes but an underlying fierce love.

In this production at Moyse Hall, director Myrna Wyatt Selkirk has tried hard to draw out sufficient exuberance from her young actors, but for the most part, they remain unconvincing. These are five passionate women, highly unlikely to ever find husbands at their “advanced” age, whose only outlet comes from dancing around the kitchen to popular songs on the radio. We should feel the repressed sexuality in their dancing, not to mention a hint of the “old religion,” but instead we see students doing what they’ve been told to do with little comprehension of why.

The play is done without attempting Irish accents, probably a wise directorial decision—better no accent than bad ones—still, Friel’s language loses something when delivered in flat Canadian tones. In general, the cast could use more vocal training to improve their diction (the men in particular are hard to understand) and to help them project to the back of the hall.

As usual with English Department shows, the production elements are of professional quality. In Michael Slack’s set design, the Mundy kitchen is represented by a raised platform with no walls. The location of a door and windows are established by the actors. I am, however, at a loss to explain why the realistic-looking trees outside the house are virtually bare when the entirety of the action takes place in the months of August and September. :

Dancing at Lughnasa, runs until Nov. 16,
at 8pm at Moyse Hall, Arts Bldg, McGill.
Tickets $10/$5, 398-6070

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