Review of Translations by Navan Theatre Group

November 2010

 

Nothing Lost in Translations

As Navan Theatre Group’s production of Brian Friel’s Translations opened in Solstice on 24th November 2010, the storm clouds raged over our economy and once again the sovereignty and identity of our nation was debated. Was Mr Friel prescient or was it the hand of Irish history repeating itself with haunting precision?

 

Translations is set in a hedge-school in Donegal in 1833, at a time when the small Irish speaking community were struggling to hold their language and identity. The British Army Engineers were in place re-mapping the country and in doing so changing the Irish place names to an English equivalent. In the deep felt view of the community there were no equivalent words in English to describe what was essentially Irish, in its sound, its passion and connection to our soul.  Our richness of language, our identity and our very existence are entangled as one. Translations is regarded as Friel’s finest play and the complex text was brought to life with accuracy in its staging and deep thought and feeling in its interpretation by director Caitríona Heslin, the production team and an ensemble cast of ten.

 

The setting for the drama was in a superbly authentic and detailed byre that transported the audience back to 1833 with ease. The subtle lighting captured both the activity and the stillness in the byre, as it caressed the set in a way that helped create a spectrum of emotions - hope, despair, tension, tenderness, resistance, reflection and realisation that change is inevitable and always, always present. The smooth running production and impressive setting was complemented by excellent costumes and well chosen music and sound effects.   

Rich characterisation which was a feature of this production brought real life to the community that inhabited the byre. The hedge-school master - Hugh and his two sons, Manus and Owen were at the heart of all the activity there.

 

As the drama opened we saw Manus softly encouraging Sarah, who was mute from birth, to say her name. The deep and silent love of Sarah for Manus was a heartrending thread throughout, although never realised for Sarah.  Manus looked towards Maire, who in turn never saw herself as the wife of a hedge-school teacher. This love interest continued through to the end of the play when Maire yearned for a British Officer, Lieutenant Yolland, Manus leaves in despair and Sarah is left to feel the pain of unrequited love. The role of Sarah brought a moving and gentle performance from Katy Leech as the sadness and timidity of her tiny frame filled the byre and she drew the audience towards her with faltering voice and deft movement that communicated all her emotions so eloquently.

 

Manus was present for most of the drama and his reactions shaped much of the action. His relationship with Owen and his feeling of betrayal by his brother were part of what drove his refusal to compromise on the translation of the place names or to soften his stance on the presence of the British Officers. He was often alone and apart from the others as he dourly resisted the changes being thrust upon him. Yet whilst he was acutely perceptive to the political changes, he failed abysmally to see the change in Maire or Sarah’s love for him. Seamus McMenamin exposed the essence of Manus in a soft, yet defiant performance that had the empathy of an appreciative audience.  

John O’Sullivan was imposing as Hugh, the school master, a role which he delivered with arrogant and unswerving belief in himself as the master of all he commanded in the hedge-school.  Hugh was the classical scholar, who held Irish and his Irishness as the rock of his existence, so firm in his belief that he never questioned its continued existence. Yet as the drama concluded Friel through reducing Hugh to the dispirited drunken scholar demonstrated the uncertainty and inevitability of change. His friend and soul mate, the ethereal Jimmy Jack, was fixated on ancient goddesses Athena and Helen of Troy. David Thornton judged this tragic-comic character well and delivered a fine performance as Jimmy Jack. Between them they anchored the drama in the mythical past, our language residing alongside the classics - Greek and Latin - and endangered like the ruins of Athens. As the play ends they were both withdrawn into the past in stark contrast to Maire who was centre stage and the symbol of an uncertain and defiant future.

 

The drama is centred on the renaming of the town lands and throughout Friel uses the reciting of place names to pull us back to the heart of the play. Heslin’s intuitive directing raised this linguistic core to a sacred litany as in turn Owen, Yolland and Maire invoked the place names with reverence, drawing an engaged audience back to their own sense of place.  In Act Two as the light closed in on Owen and the distant seagulls cried out, a hushed audience were drawn towards the vision of a trance like Owen reciting softly -  Poll na gCaorach, Baile Beag, Ceann Balor, Lis Maol, Machaire Buidhe, Baile na gCall, Carraig na Rí, Mullach Dearg - each word dawning on him, as he recreated the lyrical and haunting beauty of a tongue forgotten, a tongue he had denied. This was a theatrical moment of deliverance for Owen, as the call of his roots asserted itself and hereafter his return to the tribe was inevitable.

 

Owen had returned from prosperity in Dublin as a paid translator between the British Officers and the locals. As the drama unfolded the drawing of Owen back to his roots was a slow and painful journey. From the moment that Owen entered through the imposing doors of the hedge-school he took command, changing the tempo, injecting energy and orchestrating the performances of those around him. Darragh Feeney was a delight to watch, his strong presence filled the space, and with fluid movement and resonant voice he slowly revealed Owen with meticulous connection to the words of Friel.

 

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