The Brightening Air

Chris O'Dowd, Peter Corboy and Brian Gleeson in The Brightening Air. Image Patricio Cassinoni

****

Tolstoy famously claimed, “all happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way”. Clearly Tolstoy hadn't watched many 1980s, family sitcoms. Before that The Brady Bunch, The Partridge Family, even The Addams Family were all lovely in a similar lovely way. Till The Simpsons, Married With Children, later followed by Malcolm in the Middle arrived portraying unhappy families as all unhappy in the same, identical way. Gormless, cowardly, idiotic Dads often thinking they’re still players. Smart, long suffering mothers and wives trying to hold the family together. Throw in a daft grandparent and variations on the idiotic, clever, or responsible child and viola; you have The Brightening Air. Conor McPherson’s hilariously funny, kitchen sink, sit-com channelling 1980s family dysfunction.

Chris O'Dowd and Judith Roddy in The Brightening Air. Image Patricio Cassinoni

Set near Sligo in the 1980s, McPherson’s dysfunctional family get-together, built on the flimsiest of pretexts, confirms that money and family are like oil and water. McPherson’s second best losers gathered at the crumbling family home at the behest of blind priest, Father Pierre (a superb Seán McGinley). Enter Dermot, the man-child husband who never found himself (a stupendously brilliant Chris O’Dowd), Stephen, the responsible brother who stayed behind to fulfil family obligations (a solid Brian Gleeson), and Lydia, the wife who can't let go of a broken relationship (an excellent Judith Roddy). Then there’s the gormless suitor Brendan, (a terrifically dull Peter Corboy), the self deprecating lover, Freya (Aisling Kearns smartly rescuing a troubled role), the faithful house keeper Elizabeth (the ever excellent Derbhle Crotty) bringing up the familial rear. All satellites revolving around the gravitational centre that is chicken raising Billie, a young woman who needs minding though we’re never entirely sure why. Kate Gilmore astonishing as train fascinated Billie, struggling in a world where she’s slower yet smarter than all those around her. As a will reading moves events along and minor miracles reveal unspoken truths, lives promise to become changed forever. But if The Brightening Air's comedy flows, its dramatic ending is resolved with the equivalent tension of a mid-week episode of bake off.

Judith Roddy, Kate Gilmore, Peter Corboy, Derbhle Crotty, Seán McGinley, Brian Gleeson, Aisling Kearns and Chris O'Dowd in The Brightening Air. Image Patricio Cassinoni

A lightweight, sit-com exploring family values not worth their salt, The Brightening Air overplays its dramatic hand till its bluff gets called. Not that there's no dramatic meat on its bones. A thoughtful interrogation of the threadbare ties that tentatively bind sees familial obligations to care for the weak asking uncomfortable questions. Billie, along with aging parents, find their carers often resenting their second best lives. What Billie’s difficulties are McPherson never specifies. Which can feel like a dated cop out from the assisted-living options of the 21st century. All of which segues into ham-fisted spirituality and theological pretensions. Dwarfed beneath the shadow of druidic real deals like John Moriarty, references to magic wells, changeling children, love potions, or burning bodies by the Ganges sound as substantial as speculating on 2057 Grand National. Speaking to an untidy marriage of folklore paganism and defunct Catholicism. More tourist guidebook than theological treatise. And if the point is it’s all shallow anyway, it’s a point poorly made.

Chris O'Dowd, Kate Gilmore and Brian Gleeson in The Brightening Air. Image Patricio Cassinoni

What elevates McPherson's scrappy script is its richly textured language, wherein images like Limerick Junction unfold metaphors that just keep on giving. McPherson's incomparable use of language vividly energised by a divine ensemble delivering outstanding performances. The fulcrum of which is a sublime Gilmore. Flush cheeked, peering out from behind frightened, world weary eyes, Gilmore’s Billie is Lear’s wise fool trapped in situations not of her making. Performances aided by McPherson’s taut direction which sees action gallop along at pace. Rae Smith’s rustic kitchen and Mark Henderson’s evocative lights a meeting of the ordinary and the possibility of something beyond. A twee video projection speaking to sentimental nostalgia midway through adds nothing and subtracts more.

Judith Roddy and Brian Gleeson in The Brightening Air. Image Patricio Cassinoni

Receiving its Irish premiere having premiered at The Old Vic, London in April 2025, much of the talk surrounding The Brightening Air has concerned the play’s influences. Yeats’ poem The Song of Wandering Aengus (inspiring the title), parallel’s with Chekhov, family dynamics, its uneven spirituality, and the tensions of wanting to live our fullest lives. Yet like ingredients for a recipe, what sounds individually impressive doesn’t always come together into the meal we hoped. Comically, The Brightening Air is extremely tasty. Dramatically it proves far less substantial than its darkened end aspires to. That said, performances, across the board, are sensational. McPherson’s dysfunctional play about a dysfunctional family delivering a dysfunctionally enjoyable experience.

The Brightening Air by Conor McPherson, presented by The Gate Theatre and Old Vic productions, runs at The Gate Theatre until August 30th.

For more information visit The Gate Theatre