A little more than a century ago, a young John M. Synge had his ear pressed to the floorboards of his public house quarters, hoping to catch strains of conversation from the plastered peasants below.
Urged by his contemporary W. B. Yeats to visit Ireland's Aran Islands, Synge was inspired to write his now-renowned plays by the bawdy beauty of the inhabitants' strangely poetic patois.
His unsentimental satire of Irish peasant life, "The Playboy of the Western World," caused an immediate sensation when it first opened in 1907, enraging audience members with its seemingly amoral treatment of murder and its supposed slandering of the good name of Irish women.
As part of its centennial celebration, the Ireland's world renowned Abbey Theatre, has taken its production of Synge's "Playboy" on the road, and will be performing at Boston's Wilbur Theater until Nov. 21. Yet this play, which once incited riots, had my date yawning halfway through the first act - not a good sign.
In the dead of night, a filthy, exhausted stranger limps into a pub on a barren cliff in Geesala, County Mayo.
Underneath the layers of mud is Christy Mahon (Tom Lawlor), a young vagabond who has been on the run for eleven days, apparently having killed his abusive father during a row with a single spade-blow to the head. He tells his sad tale to the sympathetic folk in the pub, including the owner's overworked daughter, Pegeen.
Pegeen (Cathy Belton) is engaged to her wimpy cousin Shawn (Andrew Bennett) - apparently there aren't a lot of options for a girl living in this out-of-the-way isle - but she is taken by this daring newcomer who breathes life into her dreary existence, and it soon becomes clear that Christy shares her feelings.
Christy repeats his story several times for different audiences, and each time the tale becomes more and more elaborate; the listeners are scandalized and seduced as Christy acts out his Oedipal offense.
Suddenly transformed from an uncouth layabout to a revered rebel, Christy finds himself quite popular with the ladies: Pegeen, the charismatic Widow Quin (herself a local legend for murdering her husband, whose wardrobe she is apparently fond of wearing), and a trio of local girls are all smitten by the playboy. As his stock in the world rises, he even gets a job as the pub's pot-boy, where he can be close to his beloved Pegeen. All seems to be going fabulously - until his father shows up, alive, angry, and determined to ruin his son's good fortune.
The play is by turns humorous and tragic, and its themes of the capricious nature of hero worship and the universal desire to reinvent one's self still resonate today.
However, most of the all-Irish cast, Cathy Belton in particular, reel off their lines at a less-than-leisurely pace, and the combined effect of the unfamiliar accents and breakneck delivery make comprehension difficult.
While some audience members consistently caught the jokes, many others seemed to laugh only belatedly, or not at all. Furthermore, the script itself is rife with Gaelic terms and Irish slang. This adds to the play's authenticity and lyricism, but unless you know a "cnoicin" from a "shebeen," you will find yourself challenged to decipher the dialogue.
For the most part the performances are solid, although you would expect a little more from a company that crossed the Atlantic to get here.
Andrew Bennett's portrayal of Pegeen's unwanted suitor is lackluster; he recites rather than delivers his lines, and always seems to be standing at the sidelines, looking out of place with his modern geek-chic haircut.
Olwen Fouere, however, shines as the company-craving Widow Quin. She delivers her complex character's lines with a deft ironic touch; her bravado has a subtle sadness to it that endears her to the audience, if not to the already lovesick Christy, who only has eyes for Pegeen.
Set designer Guido Tondino transforms the Wilbur stage into a rustic public house; the set is minimalist, consisting only of three rough-hewn walls, a few worn pieces of furniture, and dozens of liquor bottles lined up on a ledge which provide the appropriately gray and dreary set with its only hint of color.
While the staging is innovative - the pub walls swing open at emotionally-charged mom-ents - the crew seems unaccustomed to the Wilbur stage. Several times the audience saw crew members scurrying about backstage, making it difficult to suspend disbelief.
The biggest problem with this production of "Playboy" is that it comes off as self-conscious and over-earnest.
In the end, the production is too reverent, leaving the audience unable to really enjoy the show's ribald humor and understated surrealism.
It's too bad, because "Playboy" would have a lot to say if they would only let Synge's words speak for themselves.
