Infinity

Chris O'Rourke
3 minutes ago
3 min read

Timmy Creed and Martha Dunlea in Infinity. Image, Marcin Lewandowski

****

What is the nature of time? In Canadian playwright, Hannah Moscovitch’s hugely engaging Infinity, an obsession with time leaves no time for anything else. Moscovitch’s troped tale from 2014 less a treatise on theoretical physics so much as a study of family dynamics. Articulating how, as in David Auburn’s Proof, or Adam Rapp’s The Sound Inside, very smart people share a striking resemblance with the very stupid. Academics capable of understanding the universe unable to comprehend what’s right before their eyes. Like time preaching zealot, Elliott. Timmy Creed exceptional as a pony-tailed, Phd candidate strutting about like Temu Jesus. Busily chasing time theories like a dog trying to catch its tail. Blind to the needs of aspiring violinist, and future wife, Martha Dunlea's Carmen, reduced to a long suffering, sigh of resignation. Perpetually on the cusp of a happy ever after that's endlessly postponed. Their precocious child, Sarah Jean, the poster child for never having children. Bláithín MacGabhann superb as both the adult Sarah Jean and her eight year old self who grows up to be her parent’s daughter. Sharing her mother’s ticks, love of music and need to be loved. Along with her father’s love of maths, need to get his own way, and inability to respond to the needs of anyone else beyond trying to kiss everything better.

Bláithín MacGabhann in Infinity. Image, Marcin Lewandowski

In essence a memory play, Infinity is driven by Sarah Jean’s soul searching. Initially brooding in a mood as dark as her boots, she directly addresses her confidant audience. Two hard hitting truths forcing Sarah Jean to trawl through a litany of lovers next to scenes from her parents troubled marriage, including memories she could never have know. Aedín Cosgrove’s clinical set foreshadowing what’s to come whilst underscoring science’s impersonal abstractions. Scarves and coats for both living and dying resisting science's impervious glare. Valentina Gambardella costumes foregrounding warmth and flawed humanity. Contrasting with Cosgrove's stringent lights and hygienically sanitised set.

Martha Dunlea and Timmy Creed in Infinity. Image, Marcin Lewandowski

Making Infinity one of the year’s best productions to date are three superlative performances under Julie Kelleher's exceptional direction. Martha Dunlea elevating Carmen from passive narrative device to fleshed out character by front-loading Carmen’s emotional depth during a beautifully articulated opening. Why Carmen allows herself disappear is a flaw on Moscovitch’s part as Carmen is never given space to articulate herself. Yet Dunlea shows us why in every restrained sigh. Meanwhile Timmy Creed’s Elliot articulates everything for everyone. To the point where Carmen staying simply defies belief. Until Elliot’s keynote speech. Creed revealing, in the briefest flicker of a glance, how Carmen is Elliot’s ride or die. Suddenly you get it, because Creed gets you right where it matters. As does MacGabhann, hilarious as an eight years old child and superb as a self-obsessed adult. MacGabhann never softening Sarah Jane’s egoism or delusions, but exposing her naked soul in its messy complexity, self-inflicted and otherwise. Kelleher refusing to define, or reduce Moscovitch’s characters to flaws alone. Or allow them neatly escape by eliciting false sympathy. Redemption, like being unrepentant, always costs, and in Infinity the price is paid in full. Even if a too tidy, final image strives for self conscious sentimentally; its deeper evocation unearned.

Bláithín MacGabhann in Infinity. Image, Marcin Lewandowski

To paraphrase John Lennon, time is what happens while you’re waiting for time to happen. If time does exist, we only go around once, there’s no second chance, and no one gets out alive. Infinity confirming there is only this, only each other, and what we choose to do with the time we have. As a play, Infinity is hugely affecting if rather flawed. As a production, Cork Art Theatre’s offering proves rather brilliant. As representative of Cork Art Theatre’s Re:Directing Programme 2026, which sees a series of contemporary plays platforming three Cork directors, Infinity makes for a rather exceptional start. So here's to Infinity, and beyond. To a near perfect production of Moscovitch’s less than perfect play, unleashing joy, laughter and tears. For performances alone, Infinity deserves another run, and word of mouth might very well insist. If only time can be found.