In the year that commemorated the 1913 lockout, and in the same week that a financially bruised and battered Ireland doffed its cap to departing IMF/EMC task masters, Druid Theatre opened its production of Dion Boucicault’s theatrical blockbuster of the 1860s - a Victorian melodrama in which a painfully stereotypical Irish peasantry seem to get thoroughly diddled by painfully stereotypical Anglo-Irish nobility. Produced here without explicit irony, this Colleen Bawn is a rather incongruous and escapist presentation.

 

Based on heartrending true events of 1819, the impecunious Anglo-Irish Cregans are pursued by Mr. Corrigan (Maelíosa Stafford) for defaulting on their mortgage and the family’s hegemony is threatened. Only an advantageous marriage can keep Mrs Cregan (Marie Mullen) and her son Hardress (Marty Rea) in the manner to which they have become accustomed. Of course, Hardress doesn’t love millionaire Anne Chute (Aisling O’Sullivan) to whom he is betrothed but the ‘Colleen Bawn’, a pretty little peasant (Kelly McAuley) from the mountains. He is aided and abetted in his thoroughly irresponsible love affairs by his servant, crippled Danny Mann (Aaron Monaghan) who will do absolutely anything for his master despite the abuse he endures from him. Finally, Myles na Coppaleen, a sort of Irish Hymen or gabby deus-ex-machina, tweaks events and most things fall into place (apart from poor Danny) and the status-quo is re-established. 

 

From its manifesto in press releases (“…a source of mirth and edge-of-the-seat engagement…”), the programme and poster tag-line (“A Thrilling National Drama – with poitin”), to the stage-Irishness of the actors under a preposterously rich velvet proscenium, Druid clearly go gung-ho for dramatic high-jinks, jollity and mirth. Of course, melodrama is all extravagant, sinuous plot, high emotion and exaggerated character. It is a form that wears its heart upon its sleeves for critics to peck at with ease. And, as one might expect of Druid, it is produced in gloriously rich Technicolor.  

 

 Set designer Francis O’Connor’s vision of a Killarney demesne is encircled by a vast and dramatic diorama, like a view of Earth from space: blue sky, purple hills and cumuli. A Perspex Neo-Palladian structure (a rather literal metaphor for the fading fortunes of this Anglo-Irish ascendancy) stands centre-stage and the musicians are encamped to one side. It’s certainly very beautiful, contemporary in aesthetic, and definitely lavish – although rather intransigent in action: changes of scene (and there are thirteen of them) are indicated by props hefted to and fro (mostly Sugán chairs), a brilliantly minimalistic lake, and rather inexplicable changes of colour in the tiles of the Perspex portico floor.

 

Director Garry Hynes’s cast of regulars (now termed “The Druids” in the company’s literature) enjoy their light night out: it must be quite a relief to slip under the skin of what are essentially two-dimensional characters after a year of Tom Murphy turmoil. Marie Mullen is all black bustle and lilting Lady Bracknell, Marty Rea sympathetic in his treatment of a rather weedy character, and John Olohan and Maelíosa Stafford thoroughly secure with archetype.  Aisling O’Sullivan, very much in the style and voice of Black-Adder’s Queen Elizabeth I, conforms superbly to horsey heiress. Perhaps Aaron Monaghan’s abilities, usually skilfully applied, are under-exploited in his portrayal of Danny as all physicality and little humanity, but Rory Nolan is a wise and fine-voiced Myles.

 

The programme notes lend gravitas to the evening’s spectacle: Dion Boucicault’s The Colleen Bawn was a wildly popular show 150 years ago, and would influence writers “including Synge, Shaw and O’Casey”. However, unlike other popular and influential writers from the past (Shakespeare is the most obvious example), there is little lyricism of language, complexity of ideas or even universality of theme in this script. Unlike Mozart and Da Ponte’s (often more political and satirical) collaborations in Opera Buffa there is no depth or subtext created by extraordinary music.

 

Consequently it feels as if something is missing. So, despite its glossy packaging and tragic origins of the story, The Colleen Bawn as a theatre piece doesn’t really stand very steadily on its own two feet. It’s almost as if it is produced today primarily because of its cultural and theatrical significance, and Hynes does not really help a contemporary audience make much sense of a work in which the underdog Irish are quite so cruelly shafted.

 

Druid deal with the pragmatics of theatre craft with their trademark rigour, discipline and drive and this is another slick, shiny and generally entertaining outing. Yet, perhaps eclipsed by the expectations of Druid for creating ‘serious’ drama over the last few years, this bonny-looking Colleen Bawn is far from being at home in modern Ireland and lacks a bit of flesh.