Synge, the emotional Man of Aran
A staging of Synge’s book about the rigours of island life
The Aran Islands
Viking Theatre, Clontarf, Dublin
Until January 23
It’s great to see this oneman staging of JM Synge’s books about the Aran Islands back on tour. It’s not only a very enjoyable show in itself, but it’s a revealing introduction to Synge’s
plays, especially The Playboy and Riders To The Sea.
In his introduction, Synge stated that he was giving a direct account of his life on the islands, which he visited for long stretches between 1898 and 1902, ‘inventing nothing and changing nothing that is essential’.
He added that he was saying nothing about the people that was ‘not wholly in their favour.’
That might leave the impression that he was giving a soft-centred picture of the islanders, but it’s one of the features of the book that he never patronises them nor tries to disguise aspects of their character that he didn’t like.
It’s an honest portrayal of people who had to struggle constantly against poverty, the weather and everyday dangers, especially the danger of manipulating boats in tempestuous seas: drownings were disturbingly common. Not to mention the tedium and hardship of preparing soil for potatoes, evictions, and the endless conversations about fish, tides and the price of kelp. All their work had a social aspect as they could all turn their hands to any craft.
Synge even takes the talk of fairies, witches and ghostly figures in his stride.
There are admirable and unpleasant men and women, chancers and liars. Some of their story-telling is good, some is indifferent. Yet the life was not without its humorous side.
Brendan Conroy plays Synge as more of an emotionally involved seanchaí than as an objective Dublin outsider studying the islands, using his arms and voice for elaborate melodramatic effect. At times the narrator was almost indistinguishable from the locals. But it’s still a remarkable performance.
The first half contains a number of the stories, while the second half deals more with actual life on the island. Adapting a book for the stage always has the problem of getting the balance right between the descriptive and the dramatic. The adaptation by Joe O’Byrne favours dramatic sections, but dropping the dream sequence would definitely be an improvement.
Synge learnt enough Irish to be able to talk to and understand those islanders who didn’t speak English. The language of the plays he later wrote translates easily into idiomatic Irish, but his version of the West led to riots in the Abbey when The Playboy was first produced in 1907.
Fervent Irish nationalists were appalled at the idea of Christy Mahon, a self-styled murderer, being welcomed and sheltered by young women. The combination of rough Irish males, hot-blooded women and raucous comedy wasn’t appreciated. One newspaper protested against this ‘unmitigated… libel upon Irish peasant men and worse still, upon Irish peasant girlhood.’ In the Abbey there were shouts of ‘Where’s the author. Bring him out and we’ll deal with him,’ while others sang A Nation Once Again, God Save Ireland, and shouted ‘Sinn Féin Forever.’
Yet Synge’s book on the islands details a case very similar to that of Christy Mahon, in which an actual killer was not only sheltered but was helped to escape to America. Not, he insisted, an instance of communal villainy, but an indication of their philosophy about crime and punishment.
The Aran Islands begins a nationwide tour to Everyman, Cork; Town Hall Galway; Siamsa Tíre; Glór, Ennis
‘At times in this one-man show the narrator is indistinguishable from the locals. It’s a remarkable performance’