No Ordinary Fool

The play opens to a small cottage on a hillside, surrounded by daffodils in full bloom, and a barefoot maiden plaintively singing. The eye is then drawn towards the darkened figure of an inert man, kneeling, as if deep in prayer, by the hearth. Thus, right from the outset, the audience can feel some form of tension between this timelessly idyllic scene, filled with the promise of renewal that spring brings, and these two characters who seem to have cause for sorrow and introspection. Unsurprisingly, so, this latest play from Sebastian Barry does draw inspiration from the creation of a confluence between time, Nature, and humanity respectively.

Ballycumber is a fictional rural village located on some valley slopes in Co. Wicklow. The cottage is the life-long residence of Nicholas, a middle-aged sheep farmer and confirmed bachelor. In the opening scene, he regales the much younger Evans (Aaron Monaghan) with the titular tales of the village, as a way of casually cautioning his friend and neighbour against embarking upon an amorous affair. However, as Nicholas is to later discover to his horror, his words possess a terrible power.

Indeed, this is a play rich with language, where the dialogue of each character is seeped in both idioms and anecdotes. Moreover, the imagery used is rooted firmly in Nature. This all culminates in a form of communication between the characters that is almost entirely bounded by the world around them in Ballycumber. While there may be references to international places, figures, and events, in essence, they seem to be no more than fragile wisps of information on the wind.

Moreover, through these stories, the past not only remains alive, but it can colour the present and shape the future. Barry appears to use this concept to then to pose harrowing questions about the nature of life and death and about family and community. The cleverly constructed circularity in the play implies how unanswerable some of these enquiries may be. Instead, the cottage becomes a crossroads between different times and different realms. It is a place for the cathartic expression of anger, grief, and frustration at matters that are beyond our ability to overcome or even just to properly comprehend.

In support of such ideas, this production, as directed by David Leveaux, is breathtakingly beautiful and bleak in equal measure. From the strong visual imprint of the gold and green sea that is Mike Britton’s set design to the ghostly video projections of Dick Straker, the cycles of life and seasons respectively are clearly illustrated. All of the cast deliver their many monologues in an impressively natural and flowing manner, with the ever-present Stephen Rea particularly strong as the distraught and tormented Nicholas.

When this is all taken together, then, the result is a play of grim and remorseless intensity, which challenges the audience both during the performance and for some time afterwards. In effect, it raps on the doors behind which sad and upsetting memories get kept.