Fit-up frolics

In 1998, the Irish Rep produced a gleaming production of Boucicault’s “The Shaughraun,” following it up in 2001 with an irresistibly lunatic “musicalization” of the writer’s “The Poor of New York,” retitled “The Streets of New York” for the occasion.
This time, director Charlotte Moore has had the exceedingly bright idea of treating the Rep production of Boucicault’s 1860 success as though it were the work of a group called “Flanagan’s Travelling Theatricals,” a “fit-up” company of the sort that toured Ireland?s towns and villages until well into the 20th century. The fit-ups played town squares, church basements, and sometimes in the open air, working out of the wagons in which they moved from place to place and in which, in some cases, the participants lived during their performing season.
For the hard-pressed travelling troupe’s tussle with the somewhat mysterious Irish writer’s comic melodrama, Moore has identified the specific location as “a woods near County Cavan,” a choice which has inspired set designer James Morgan to come up with some absolutely stunning trees, impressive enough to take their place among the redwoods of Northern California.
The physical beauty of the production is probably as close to outright spectacle as the Irish Rep is ever likely to come, with those powerful trees spreading their rich foliage across the ceiling above the stage and even into the audience space.
Dion Boucicault based “The Colleen Bawn” on an 1829 novel, “The Collegians,” by one Gerald Griffin, who, as a young newspaper reporter, had covered a particularly lurid Limerick murder trial, and, changing the location to Killarney, wrote his book.
Boucicault, happening upon the novel, found it suitable for stage adaptation and undertook the project. The astonishingly prolific playwright, who wrote or co-wrote something approaching 200 plays, was essentially an exceedingly popular comic melodramatist at heart, so he gave the novel’s tragic tale a happy ending, thereby coming up with one of his most popular works, providing his audiences with precisely the sort of thing they liked best.
The complicated plot, requiring 11 actors, a couple of whom appear in more than one role, can be daunting and so can the language. With that in mind, the Irish Rep has included in its program a sheet containing no fewer than 21 words and phrases used in the play and translated from the Irish language for the benefit of audiences visiting the Irish Rep?s home on West 22nd Street, where the show will be holding forth until Nov. 30.
The trial on which Griffin reported had its social aspects, since the murder victim had been a poor but beautiful young girl, and the crime had been arranged by a 23-year-old naval lieutenant who happened to be a nobleman, assisted in the killing by his loyal but somewhat dim-witted manservant.
But tragedy wasn’t what had made Boucicault one of the most popular playwrights of the 19th century, so he juggled the facts to suit his purposes.
In the Rep’s production, the title character, Eily O?Connor, is gracefully played by Heather O’Neill, while her better-bred counterpart, Anne Chute, a rival who becomes a friend, is in the capable hands of Laura James Flynn.
The male roles have been reconfigured in such a way that the “hero,” if indeed he can be called that, is no longer the navy man, but is a privileged youth, Hardress Cregan, played with spirit by Declan Mooney.
Meanwhile, the seaman is still on deck, as a sort of second romantic lead in the sturdy person of George C. Heslin, who did strong work a couple of seasons ago in the fascinating “Misterman” by Enda Walsh.
Eily’s protectress, Sheelah, is briskly done by Rep regular Terry Donnelly, while Hardress’s put-upon mother is efficiently done by Caroline Winterson, returning to the stage after a lengthy absence.
The villainous side of the ledger is primarily handled by the Rep’s production director, Ciaran O’Reilly, in the role of the murderous servant, whom Boucicault has turned into a vaguely comic hunchback named Danny Mann, who is Sheelah’s son.
O’Reilly has an absolutely unforgettable deathbed scene involving a tiny teddy bear. The moment has to be seen to be believed.
Equally evil, if not more so, is the grasping landowner, Mr. Corrigan, delivered with energy and style by Colin Lane, who would be twirling his moustache in true melodramatic fashion, if only he had one. What he does have, however, is one of the most bizarre wigs to be seen on any new York stage in many a theatrical season. Lane’s comedic timing is outstanding.
Useful support, including a lot of work shifting the fit-up’s painted canvas scenery, is provided by John Keating as Father Tom. The lanky actor seems to be sufficiently elongated by his long cassock to have stepped out of a painting by El Greco.
Equally admirable assistance is turned in by Paul Vincent Black in the slightly confusing role of Myles-na-gCopaleen, a horse-trading rogue maddened by his unrequited love for Eily.
Onstage for much of the show’s brief, swiftly paced running time, clocking in at just under two joyous hours, is James Cleveland, as a fiddler adroit enough to produce the sound of a complaining cat, if one is needed.
Casting directors should be advised that at least a half-dozen of the city’s most appealing and most proficient Irish and Irish-American performers are on view in “The Colleen Bawn,” for the most part resplendent in Linda Fisher?s surprisingly lavish costumes and skillfully lighted by Brian Nason.
“The Colleen Bawn” is, despite a fleeting longueur or two, is most definitely one of the brighter, most successful outings on the part of the undauntable Irish Repertory Theatre. Season after season, it becomes clearer and clearer that the group is fast becoming one of the city’s most unpretentiously valuable cultural assets.