Ferocity

Marion O'Dwyer and Mark Lambert in Ferocity. Image, Ciarán Bagnall

****

The 1980s cemented the shift from who we were as a nation towards who we might become. A decade in which Catholic conservatism gave way to social unrest. Christian O’Reilly’s family drama, Ferocity, set in a Big House in North Kerry over the Christmas season tapping into the tensions of the time. Between old traditions and the emerging young. Between keeping secrets and being freed by the truth. O’Reilly’s composite of theatrical styles converging in a kitchen sink drama which flings several kitchen sinks into its jumbled mix. The result an untidy concoction of competing conventions infused with moments of brilliance.

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Marion O'Dwyer, Molly Logan, Clelia Murphy, Aisling Kearns and Patrick Ryan in Ferocity. Image, Ciarán Bagnall

It’s been a time since we’ve had a new Christmas play to equal, say, The Man Who Came To Dinner. Ferocity, alas, isn’t it. Initially you could be forgiven for thinking otherwise. With English accents sounding like strained Noel Coward action opens on Christmas Eve 1981, at a quirky family gathering in Aunt Alice’s house to celebrate the festive season. The matriarchal spinster Alice, and her tank topped brother Roger, hosting the sensitive Rose and her peace at any price daughter Sally, along with Sally's window smashing son Kevin. Sally’s estranged husband, the belligerent writer Jonathan, adding fuel to the family fires with his unfiltered, drunken outbursts. Ensuring housemaid Cathy is in for a rollicking good Christmas watching the comedic sparks fly.

Patrick Ryan and Ronan Harney in Ferocity. Image, Ciarán Bagnall

Except nothing is quite as it appears, narratively or theatrically. Alice, a restrained Marion O Dwyer, has a pressing secret. O’Dwyer excelling as a woman realising everything she thought she knew was wrong whilst trying to make everything right. Aisling Kearn’s beautifully tempered Sally concealing her own secret; a spine of acumen beneath her apparent fudging around life’s edges. Even Molly Logan’s earthy maid Cathy has a dark secret to tell. But the biggest secret belongs to young Ronan Harney as Kevin. The sensational thirteen year old, oozing presence, having to flip flop between Enid Blyton character and Adolescence level intensity, the latter which he delivers with silence alone. Kevin’s need of a father finding an invested Patrick Ryan as man-child Jonathan swanning about boisterously like a pantomime villain. Even as the real villain is hid in plain sight.

Ronan Harney and Aisling Kearns in Ferocity. Image, Ciarán Bagnall

Switching uneasily between Noel Coward comedy and Eugene O’Neill tragedy, Ferocity makes impossible demands. Yet it proves richer than its clumsily assembled parts as director Andrew Flynn astutely plays each scene allowing the whole to land where it may. When funny, Flynn can ensure funny. Or, as in a devastatingly brilliant scene post intermission, tease out tensions of unbearable intensity. The young Harney and a spellbinding Mark Lambert strikingly brilliant in a skin crawling encounter. A monumental Lambert making you like Roger, hate him, then hate yourself for liking him. Lambert, along with a vastly underused Clelia Murphy as the ditzy Rose, a polar star of undimmed brilliance in Ferocity’s bright constellation. Murphy’s mesmerisingly detailed performance simply extraordinary in its expressiveness. Ferocity rounded out by Ciarán Bagnall’s lights and set. A compromise of compact convenience immersed, like Sinead Cuthbert’s costumes, in classic tones. Leaving Carl Kennedy’s music design to best convey the period through its time conscious soundtrack. Along with an ever present Atari console that remains unopened. Like that ever happened.

Aisling Kearns, Clelia Murphy and Mark Lambert in Ferocity. Image, Ciarán Bagnall

Like twins of good and evil, there’s a powerful family tragedy and delightful Christmas comedy incubating inside Ferocity. If only they would get out of each other’s way. Instead, they fight for dominance, shifting between heart rending scenes of devastating power to moments of brash humour about drunken sex on a chaise lounge. Ferocity relying on pop psychology tropes as its hurried end arrives via an overly self-conscious monologue and a convenient, get out of jail conceit. Even so, when it’s good, as it most often is, Ferocity is very, very good indeed, with Lambert and Murphy worth the price of admission alone. Then there’s Harney, announcing himself as a bright young talent for the future. And that scene, post intermission. So harrowingly brilliant it forgives, condemns, and elevates everything around it.

Ferocity by Christian O’Reilly, directed by Andrew Flynn, presented by Magic Pill Productions in association with Town Hall Theatre and Decadent Theatre Company, runs at The Mick Lally Theatre, Druid Lane, until November 15.

For more information visit Decadent Theatre Company or Druid Theatre.