A Hard Dance To Follow

There is music in Brian Friel’s almost great play, “Dancing at Lughnasa,†but it comes from a radio, not from the words. And when the “Marconi†plays in the cottage of the five Mundy sisters in Ballybeg, it evokes the memories of good times and hopes and dreams.

   Friel’s play was rightly admired when it came from Dublin to the National Theatre in London, and to Broadway, winning a Tony in 1992 for best new play (its cast of fine Irish actors brought brogues so thick you sometimes wished for an interpreter).

   Living in near poverty with prospects of marriage gone, the sisters dote on Michael, the illegitimate son of Chris, (one of the siblings), and they dote on Father Jack, their brother, just sent home ill from Africa after serving the church there for 25 years.     

   Many of the play’s actual words are spoken by Michael as the grownup narrator recalling his memories of three weeks in the summer of 1936, when he was 7 years old. As he tells us the “different kinds of memories†he has of that time and that nothing much happened during the three weeks, we see and hear the sisters during an ordinary afternoon:  doing their chores, knitting, bickering, witnessing the unexpected arrival of Gerry — Michael’s father, a charming Welsh bounder — and from time to time breaking into song and dance, prompted by music from the beloved Marconi.

   Along the way, especially in the second act, Michael tells us of the bleak and tragic futures that lie ahead for the sisters and for Father Jack, who — though recovered — will die of a heart attack. The sisters will lose jobs and incomes and the family will break apart and some will die. But for the two hours of the play, music and dance keep hope alive.

   All of this is the stuff of real theater and begs for an accomplished cast able to move us with looks, gestures and inflections, since many of the play’s best moments are non-verbal:  Chris and Gerry’s Fred-and-Ginger dance in which all her longing and love are manifest; the sisters’ impromptu jig and step dancing; and even Father Jack’s “pagan†dance with two sticks invoking African gods.

   The Sherman Players tried mightily to bring life to a play that has generous writing, revealing the characters’ inner selves. Doubtless this exercise was good for the Sherman cast, stretching their experience for future work.  But for the audience the result was often slow, even tedious. There were sparks, but they ignited no lasting fire.

   Tracy Hurd was a solid Kate, the schoolteacher and oldest sister, especially in her first act jig, when her feet showed us a carefree world she would never know. Miles Everett’s Michael was good as narrator, strained when impersonating his 7-year-old self. Jackie Decho-Holm’s Maggie showed energy as the family’s cheeky “housekeeper,†and Alison Bernhardt was a fine Rose, the “slow†sister.  James Hipp’s Gerry was charming if too earnest, and Steve Manzino’s Father Jack was good enough.  Francis A. Daley directed.

   The Sherman group continues to attempt ambitious productions. They seem to do best with melodramas that demand only so much. “Enchanted April†and “Gaslight†were done well.  Even the awful production of “Salome†made clear why Wilde never wanted the play mounted on stage. But “Dancing at Lughnasa†is beyond the company’s abilities.

   “Dancing at Lughnasa†runs at The Sherman Playhouse, through Oct. 16. For tickets, call 860-354-3622 or go to shermanplayers.org.