Muicín

Siofrá Ní Eilí in Muicín. Image, Jilly McGrath

When it comes to art, everyone has a different experience. Especially when a work is performed in one language whilst being read in another. Like Ultan Pringle’s Muicín. Pringle’s reimagining of his 2023 play Piglet in an Irish language translation by HK Ní Shioradáin. Performed in Irish with subtitles you read off your phone, courtesy of a scan code at entry. A painfully bad idea whose practice ensures you either read your phone or watch the stage. For, unlike surtitles, you can never really do both. Which is why I’ve omitted a star rating. Given how Christian Brothers beat the Irish language out off me in an effort to beat it into me, I can only speak to my engagement via subtitles, which was problematic. Fluent Irish speakers might be more forgiving.

Siofrá Ní Eilí in Muicín. Image, Jilly McGrath

Either way, there’s other strengths and issues. Muicín being a likeable twist on the by-the-numbers, ready-made play. Typically a one person monologue of a troubled soul, usual in rural Ireland, living their second best life. Trying to come to terms with a failed relationship, opportunity, add your own, who, through encounters with some quirky characters, face an uncomfortable confrontation where what’s hidden is made known. Resolution found in a rousing happy, best self ever after, or some poignant, deep seated, soul searching.

Siofrá Ní Eilí and Niamh Murphy in Muicín. Image, Jilly McGrath

And so it begins. Mercy Munroe channelling her inner Fleabag as she monologues whilst working in an Athlone fish and chips shop. Where, for half an hour in a hour long play, she overshares about Gemma who dumped her in Costa on Dawson Street, recounts flashing her tits in gender studies before dropping out of college, and provides flimsy details of her actualising breakdown. All whilst encountering fair weather friends, Shiv and Clara, whose food she messes with because they allegedly left her just when she needed them most. Mercy being one part abandonment issues, one part hard to believe, and most parts hard work. Some song and dance routines so as to smile though your heart is breaking, along with Jennifer Coolidge impressions, dilute more than muddy Mercy’s ankle deep, Mammy issues. Highlighted by the arrival of self-righteous, fault finding Gemma, whose prolonged blame game reveals gaslighting, lies, and that both characters are wholly unsuitable for any meaningful relationship with anyone. A hurried rush to the finish line sees Mercy more informed but perhaps, like some, none the wiser. For if, like me, your subtitles froze minutes from the end, leaving you trying to read over the shoulder of the person in front of you, you are also likely to have made a best guesstimate as to how Muicín actually concluded. Clues evident in Siofrá Ní Eilí’s vibrant performance which oozes presence. Ní Eilí’s Mercy part wide eyed musical theatre kid, part Gloria Swanson meets Bette Davis via a Baby Jane mash-up. Against which Niamh Murphy’s Gemma suggests a Puritan with an unforgiving conscience. Reprimanding you for your own good, but really for their malicious delight. Director Jeda de Bri uncharacteristically not having their best day. Staging action without invention and never truly challenging the play’s characters or fault lines. Risking equating choices arising from poor mental health with moral choices.

Siofrá Ní Eilí in Muicín. Image, Jilly McGrath

Irish language plays are hugely important, and LemonSoap Productions are to be applauded for undertaking Muicín. Subtitles on phones, however, create a sub-optimal experience. Compounded by Pringle not having their best day either, despite Muicín showing moments of poignancy, tenderness and humour. On their day, as evidenced by the brilliant Boyfriends, Pringle is maturing into a terrific playwright, employing wit and insight coated in rich, observational language. A young writer whose work would benefit from, and repay, meaningful development beyond tea and biscuit chats with peers and free theatre tickets. Muicín, like Pringle, showing immense potential waiting to be harnessed. Whatever the language.

Muicín by Ultan Pringle, presented by LemonSoap Productions, runs at Project Arts Centre until Feb 27.

For more information visit Project Arts Centre