Elysium Nevada

Bairbre Ni Chaoimh, Mark O’Regan and Michael James Ford in Elysium Nevada. Image Futoshi Sakauchi

****

Welcome to Elysium. A third rate retirement home in Nevada's Mojave desert. Less a last chance saloon so much as a no hope corral, the lights of Las Vegas whisper in the far off like half forgotten memories. Here the elderly who have outlived their usefulness are abandoned under false pretences by their indifferent families. Doomed to wile away in heated ruminations of a forgotten long ago. A time when kids had manners, when Vegas strippers were voluptuously curved, when salesman ruled the world and catering staff served the geniuses at Los Alamos. Elders whose final days are spent confined to wheelchairs, parked by staff in 90° heat, waiting for their next substandard meal. Barry McKinley's dramatically lazy Elysium Nevada immeasurably more satisfying as insightful character study. Its three ageist guests remembering past time long agos because all they have in the present is time. Director Liam Halligan deftly negotiating the demands of McKinley's no stakes script and elevating it into something engaging. In which humour, humanity and insight are given immediacy by three irresistible performances.

Bairbre Ni Chaoimh, Mark O’Regan and Michael James Ford in Elysium Nevada. Image Futoshi Sakauchi

Steeped in tropes of TV Americana, the belligerent and bellicose Bob rattles on at the laid back Mike about whatever happens to be his current grievance. The silent Constance, interrupting her snoozes for breaths from an oxygen tank, pretends not to listen. And who can blame her. Michael James Ford’s loudmouth Bob, delivering his personality as monologue, endlessly performs his own importance. Meanwhile Mark O'Regan's brilliantly realised Mike listens, adds commentary, and sets up the next tirade. Bairbre Ní Chaoimh excellent as the sultry Constance, a feminine foil to McKinley’s grumpy old man. Their dynamic referencing Jack Gleason’s The Honeymooners, or The Odd Couple meets Za Za Gabor with a hint of Blanche Dubois. Constance’s animation steeling desire in Mike and resentment in Bob. Ní Chaoimh’s costumes perfectly capturing character, reflecting the faded elegance of a Vegas dancer, the Panama hat sharpness of a man with notions, and the earthy ordinariness of a man without pretensions. Their conversations less a journey so much a pleasant view, unchanging and irresistible. Martin Cahill’s superb set, with its faded wooden sign and dominating desert cactus evoking worlds real and imagined. Cahill’s genius evident in the superb realising of a sandstorm with nothing more than flimsy ribbon and wind chimes. Colm Maher’s desert hued lights sweltering with longing and apathy. Consuming all three until truth poignantly reveals itself in the final moments.

Mark O’Regan, Bairbre Ni Chaoimh and Michael James Ford in Elysium Nevada. Image Futoshi Sakauchi

Under Halligan’s direction, several risky choices mostly pay off. A sedentary, somnambulist pace captures the weight of heat and time for longing spirits incapable of realising the vitality their bodies now betray. Michael James Ford’s superb Bob the riskiest choice of all. Ford’s excellent portrayal of leaden arrogance endlessly performing stiff, cane waving self-reflection captivating until the heartbreaking reveal. Ever performing to his own audience, Bob responds to disclosures more as facts spoken than experience felt. Next to plays like Florian Zeller’s The Father, conveying the emotional depth of the troubled elderly, you might wish for a more emotive closure. For the end needs it. A botched segue into Oppenheimer territory sees McKinley scrambling to elevate his delightfully soft comedy into something symbolic. Flaccid attempts to shoehorn in atomic related gravity not needed. The work had been done, and beautifully realised by Ford, O’Regan and Ní Chaoimh. The ending arriving with a great big bang, but landing as something of a whimper.

Mark O’Regan, Michael James Ford and Bairbre Ni Chaoimh in Elysium Nevada. Image Futoshi Sakauchi

Full of sharp observations, superb comic touches and understated tenderness Elysium Nevada works best when viewed as a character study rather than story. An encounter with three forgotten souls lost to time and the vagaries of memory. If performances are strong across the board, O’Regan, like a long suffering Barney Rubble to Ford’s flinty Fred Flintstone, steals the show with a world weary charm, detailing the weight and wisdom of ordinariness. Ford, O’Regan and Ní Chaoimh together delivering some utterly irresistible theatre. 

Elysium Nevada by Barry McKinley runs at Bewley’s Café Theatre until May 30th.

For more information visit Bewley’s Café Theatre.