Bladnoch Distillery, Wigtown
4 stars
As heartrending as Brian Friel’s 1994 play about a blind woman who regains her sight but loses her vision undoubtedly was when it appeared at The Citizens Theatre in 2005, there was something over-egged about Gregory Thomson’s touchy-feely production. It wasn’t the script, which splits the action between its eponymous heroine, her knowledge-hungry husband Frank and Mr Rice, the battle-scarred doctor who gives her light but takes away everything that defined her as special when still in the dark. And it most certainly wasn’t the central performance by Cara Kelly as Molly, a fiery, vulnerable and no-holds-barred whirligig depicting a powerful woman totally in touch – and smell, come to that – with herself, whose entire world is turned upside down.
Any shortcomings were more about Thompson’s inclusion of the audience into the action, which, in the Citz, looked slightly forced, as if the words alone, broken up into yarn-spinning monologues, weren’t strong enough to stand up for themselves without extra added tricks thrown in. In the current context of this National Theatre Of Scotland touring revival, however, it’s more homespun, up close and personal set of venues lend themselves an all too appropriate air of community, allowing such techniques space to breathe.
There’s something here too that makes the play more of a three way split. Because, while Kelly’s whirlwind turn remains utterly unmissable, Michael Glenn Murphy as Frank, all full of hope and good causes, with Molly just a marker en route to saving the world, is the flipside of the broken Rice. Both men’s need to liberate Molly is far greater than her own in what remains a breathtaking study of how seeing isn’t always believing.
The Herald, October 1st 2007
ends
4 stars
As heartrending as Brian Friel’s 1994 play about a blind woman who regains her sight but loses her vision undoubtedly was when it appeared at The Citizens Theatre in 2005, there was something over-egged about Gregory Thomson’s touchy-feely production. It wasn’t the script, which splits the action between its eponymous heroine, her knowledge-hungry husband Frank and Mr Rice, the battle-scarred doctor who gives her light but takes away everything that defined her as special when still in the dark. And it most certainly wasn’t the central performance by Cara Kelly as Molly, a fiery, vulnerable and no-holds-barred whirligig depicting a powerful woman totally in touch – and smell, come to that – with herself, whose entire world is turned upside down.
Any shortcomings were more about Thompson’s inclusion of the audience into the action, which, in the Citz, looked slightly forced, as if the words alone, broken up into yarn-spinning monologues, weren’t strong enough to stand up for themselves without extra added tricks thrown in. In the current context of this National Theatre Of Scotland touring revival, however, it’s more homespun, up close and personal set of venues lend themselves an all too appropriate air of community, allowing such techniques space to breathe.
There’s something here too that makes the play more of a three way split. Because, while Kelly’s whirlwind turn remains utterly unmissable, Michael Glenn Murphy as Frank, all full of hope and good causes, with Molly just a marker en route to saving the world, is the flipside of the broken Rice. Both men’s need to liberate Molly is far greater than her own in what remains a breathtaking study of how seeing isn’t always believing.
The Herald, October 1st 2007
ends
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