There are a million Irish plays in the world. The Irish are prolific writers, and most of the work out there is self pitying maudlin crap to be quite fair. Crap. And no one does self pity like the Irish.
Brian Friel is, on the other hand, like George Bernard Shaw, a good writer.
Not only was "Translations" a good play, and as I say well done, it was nostalgic. Peter Wright, one of the best directors and teachers I have ever had, had a fondness for Irish plays, he himself being a dark Irish American play wright. And so at RWU we always had at least one Irish play in the season.
My first introduction to my undergrad was working on Peter's production of "The Clearing" in high school. I remember sitting upside down on the top of a ladder stapling burlap sacking from the ceiling (For some reason burlap sacking is the standard set dressing for Irish plays) and coming into the theatre to see "Translations" smelled wonderfully like that experience. (The walls being hung with burlap sacking).
Also, it was wonderfully refreshing to see an honest straightforward realistic play from my own culture. I know what happens in Ireland in the 1700s. I do not need the potato famine explained to me. I understand the subtext in reference by the author to events and concepts and the rolling tragedy of the history he describes. It is mine. Though I am not Irish, I am American, my flavor of American is flavored by that history.
Culture is interesting. We spend so much time studying other people's we often forget to look back on our own. And don't realize how sometimes they are not so dissimilar.
It's midnight now. I must to bed. More to come on this subject in future.
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