The Sand Park

Seamus O'Rourke in The Sand Park. Image uncredited

*****

Male monologues are enjoying something of a five star moment. Stuart Roche’s Shard, Jimmy Murphy’s The Kiss, and now The Sand Park by Seamus O’Rourke. A moving meditation on life, death, community and masculinity. Framed as a character study of a quiet man, widowed by grief, looking for something to do and someone to talk to. James Anthony Lowry Snr, settling down with his flask and mug onto a weather beaten bench over a recently dug grave. Next to which an older, settled plot is marked by a smaller stone in The Sand Park, named for reasons soon divulged. There to talk to his son, James Anthony Jnr. His recently deceased wife, Rose, being given time to settle into the great beyond before joining their conversation. In which memory, history, hurling highlights, two demanding daughters, and a special love song recapture something still tangible. Where what is, what was and what has to be living in a tight knit, rural community creates a luxurious backdrop of ordinariness. O’Rourke’s ramblings as eloquent as poetry and as seemingly natural as thinking out loud.

Like Pat Kinevane and Mikel Murfi, O’Rourke has fashioned part of his career from brilliant, self-created, one man monologues. Like that of James Anthony Snr. A gentle man bewildered by life, struggling with grief, raising two daughters, a dog called Trixie and trying remember the exact words people use to describe things. Like the thingamy thing women are good at. You know the one. The ability to do lots of things at the same time. Multi-tasking. An apt description for O’Rourke’s deceptive script and performance, with both looking effortless, as if being made up on the spot. Meandering, folding in on itself, combining multiple ideas, themes and images that get dropped then later returned to. Looking haphazard when in truth it’s crafted with bewildering complexity. An extraordinary telling looking like the most ordinary thing. A world you irresistible lean into. O’Rourke ensuring you cry with laughter and laugh through tears. True, The Sand Park is touched by a pinch of sentiment, yet so is grieving. So are memories of a love well lived and a love that never got to live. Of a search for healing and the ability to go on for older men trying to find new ways to navigate a changing world.

The Sand Park. Image uncredited

While O’Rourke deserves every plaudit as writer, director and performer, Philip McIntyre's commanding set deserves its own acclaimed recognition. A wall dripping with foliage dominating the under appreciated theatre space that is The Viking stage. The Viking Theatre also deserving of recognition, celebrating its 14th year this week. The love child of Laura Dowdall and Andy Murray, the venue can be unfairly dismissed as catering to memory lane plays for an older audience. Which it unapologetically does, with some proving remarkably good, some not so good. But the venue offers so much more, including works of staggering quality. Acclaimed, aspiring; all shapes and sizes have graced its DIY boards. The award winning film Horseshoe, currently on nation-wide release, having risen out of a small group of scrappy mavericks who began as an in-house theatre company at The Viking. One of countless artists given a home, or whose work was given a stage to grace. It’s a thankless, tireless, insanity running a space like The Viking. Fighting the good fight for independent artists looking for somewhere to perform. Like Seamus O’Rourke’s revival of The Sand Park. A hearfelt heartbreak, and hilariously moving experience. Confirming O’Rourke as a storytelling genius, an effortlessly charismatic performer, and a national treasure. And The Viking as a venue offering warm, welcoming, unwavering support for artists across the country. Take a bow, Viking Theatre.

The Sand Park by Seamus’s O’Rourke, runs at The Viking Theatre until December 13.

For more information visit The Viking Theatre