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Irish Theatre Magazine Review

Reviewed 7 February By Siobhán O’Gorman

The importance of music in Marina Carr’s plays is often overlooked, and it holds particular significance in her acclaimed Portia Coughlan. The ghost of Portia’s twin, Gabriel, never speaks but sings as he haunts the eponymous protagonist. Under the guidance of director of Aoife Connolly, Aisling Quinn  created a musical score for this production that harmonised with the play’s portrayal of mundane daily life repeatedly interrupted by the ominous and the supernatural. Instrumental music alternated between the piano and the guitar, complementing the play’s themes of freedom and containment. Quinn’s own vocals, which have been compared to those of Kate Bush, provided Gabriel’s childlike singing voice.

Portia is Connolly’s directorial debut and she has, quite literally, added another layer of mystery to the protagonist’s dead twin. In Carr’s text, Gabriel is visible on stage, as he and Portia unconsciously mirror each other’s movements; Bluepatch’s Gabriel, played by Paul Nolan ( who also plays Senchil, a self – proclaimed ‘shadow’ character), was barely observable as he appeared behind a semi-transparent curtain. Together with Quinn’s haunting vocals, this feature added to the Gothic qualities of the play.

Portia, played by Andrea Scott, frequently had a faraway look and dragged her feet mournfully, as if she was as much a walking ghost as her twin. Scott’s skillfully played lethargy, complemented by her command of the lazy Midland’s drawl, intensified the character’s sporadic outbursts of vigorous – albeit tormented – passion. In one such fit, Connolly had Scott bending forward and clutching the back of a seat, aptly appearing like a caged animal as she delivered her hateful speech to the exasperated husband Raphael.

Before the scene in which Portia’s drowned body is discovered, lighting designer Sophy Bradshaw Power employed an erratic interplay of blue and green hues on the mottled midsection of the set’s backdrop to reflect the deadly flow of the Belmont river. This created a surreal spell, which set the scene for the play’s subsequent revelation. Scott played the dead Portia by standing on the box stage left, her hands arched high above her head – suspended presumably, having been newly dredged from the river. While this was in keeping with the minimalism of this low budget production, it compromised the limpness – and ultimate deadness – of Portia’s body, which is paramount to this scene. It could, however be seen to add to the way that Carr’s play blurs the distinctions between life and death.

Ben Mulhern’s performance added an energy to the somewhat tokenistic character of Raphael. This was especially evident  in the final scene, in which he and Scott skilfully demonstrated the tenderness, and touching – yet ultimately destructive – honesty between husband and wife. As Portia leaned over his crouching form, sincerely explaining her inability to forget Gabriel, he almost shrugged her off. These actions, and the final image of Portia lying on the floor in resignation, poignantly conveyed the sense of regret that is at the heart of Carr’s tragedy, as well as testifying to the talents of this new company.

Siobhan O ‘Gorman is currently completing a doctoral research project on the plays of Marina Carr and Susan – Lori-Parks at the National University of  Ireland, Galway.

Irish Reviewers Online Review

Reviewed 5 February by Aidan Halpin

Marina Carr’s ‘Portia Coughlan’ inhabits uncomfortable territory, figuratively and literally.It is set amidst a stifling midlands landscape to which the title character is inextricably bound and yearns to escape. Haunted by the death of her twin, her life contaminated by grief and guilt,this powerful work charts Portia’s last days before a seemingly inexorable fate draws her into the same river that her brother Gabriel had drowned in 15 years previously.This is a play in which Carr skillfully appropriates the mythic dimensions of Greek tragedy and transposes them to a contemporary context, where emotions run high and personal truths clash with the prevailing structures of family, community and tradition. Carr’s use of the midlands dialect (faithfully represented in this Bluepatch production) to articulate those emotions endows the play with a raw, poetic quality.

Andrea Scott’s Portia was intriguing. Her portrayal was suffused throughout with a sense of the character’s alienation from herself and her surroundings.Portia frequently appeared disengaged from the other characters, she often stared into the middle distance or stood at a remove from them, the physical space between them exemplifying her emotional isolation. Her dominant mode of expression was casual malice or disinterest, as though she resented any attempt to lure her away from her morbid preoccupation with Gabriel’s death. When she was overcome by rage it tended to be internalised, cannibalising her from within. This approach to the character was a valid one, insofar as it is psychologically realistic, and it lends itself to the New Theatre’s stage, where the epic emotional scale of Carr’s work might otherwise prove too monumental for its intimate environs. But the powerful poetry of Carr’s language seemed a casualty of this choice at times, its lyricism diluted by Portia’s brandy-soaked world-weariness. It would be unfair to criticize Scott too heavily in this instance, as her performance was otherwise compelling and strong, but one wonders what might have been achieved if she had ventured further and brought more of Portia’s smouldering passions to the surface.

Other noteworthy performances included Ben Mulhern, who played Portia’s husband, Raphael, turning in a subtle and touchingly sympathetic rendering of the character. Paul Nolan more than earned his weight in digestive biscuits for his hilarious, physically masterful and affectionate depiction of Uncle Senchil. Maggie May, the “Ould whore with bad legs”, provided light relief (no pun intended) in the guise of a bow-legged Suzanne Lakes. Eileen Fennell must have relished her role as Blaize Scully, a symphony of vitriolic spite which shocked and amused the audience in equal measure.

Aoife Connolly directed this play with an assured hand, displaying a rare command of blocking and spatial awareness and employing a bold physical performance style which aptly reflects the heightened naturalism of the script. The dark comedy of the piece was effectively delivered, never threatening to overshadow or detract from the play’s tragic import. Connolly deftly combined the various elements of the design to serve the script and her vision for the production. There was a robust simplicity to the set, one multipurpose set piece (serving as a sofa, a riverside bench and a bar) established the shifting locals for each scene. The lighting design incorporated blues and greens, perhaps suggesting the Belmont river and the tragic mood that is associated with it. One regret was that the ghostly figure of Gabriel was not featured more prominently, his presence has significant connotations for Portia and his appearance onstage has the potential to be highly evocative.

This is a far cry from the theatre of consolation. Portia Coughlan abandons its audience to find their own accommodation of the emotions it arouses. There are no easy resolutions, no cosy catharsis and no resisting the tragic undertow of this work.

- Aidan Halpin -