A factory foreman divides his attentions between his wife and his mistress. Estranged brothers discover a disturbing legacy on the day of their father's funeral. A drug dealer and his waifish girlfriend prepare to flee their sordid life. A lonely spinster pursues a pair of old bachelors. Mom-and-pop shopkeepers consider retiring. A hot chick plays with the bad boys, but ultimately opts for the honest lad with the honest job. And an old man gazes at the stars and remembers the happy times.
When we think of Belfast, that Irish city on the border separating the English-governed Ulster provinces and the island's independent counties, we usually envision pipe bombs, ruined buildings and civil strife. So it may come as something of a surprise to learn that its citizens are still capable of commonplace concerns - or so playwright Owen McCafferty hopes. He also gambles on our curiosity being piqued by their presentation in a series of interwoven scenes - 40 in all, featuring a total of 21 characters - that, taken together, make up a look at one significant day in the lives of his representative countryfolk.
The multiple-plot roman à tiroirs originated with the novel, a narrative form allowing for leisurely perusal. Its adaptation to film and television's intimate scope and rapidly-shifting locales has likewise proved successful. But as frequently happens when this complicated narrative form is transferred to the real-time viewing of the stage, we waste precious time orienting ourselves amid our story's unfamiliar geography, dialects and relationships before we can attend to the characters' respective journeys ending in denouements that are too often inconclusive, when not drearily foreseeable.
But even granting McCafferty's academic text, the preview performance I attended was not without its entertaining moments. The Seanachaí Theater Company has built its reputation on its prowess at hefting Victorian-weight epics, and under the briskly-paced direction of returning expat Scott Cummins, the actors' portrayals of generic archetypes engage us, however briefly, over the course of the production's three hours (two intermissions). The visual and acoustical isolation exacerbated by Joey Wade's stark scenic configuration may disappoint audiences expecting the backside-to-belly action showcased in Seanachaí's 2007 staging of Roddy Doyle's War, but the industry and enthusiasm of the ensemble cannot be denied.
Jeff Duhigg, left, and Tom Hickey
