Review - Theater Emory's The Lieutenant of Inishmore

Martin McDonagh’s The Lieutenant of Inishmore, recently produced by Theater Emory, encapsulates a moment of time in early 1990’s IRA war-torn Ireland. Padraic is away, serving in the INLA, and has asked one simple task of his father, Donny: look after his cat (Wee Thomas) while he’s gone. The play opens with said cat, brain-dripping and quite dead, in the arms of Padraic’s childhood friend, Davey. Donny and Davey must decide whether to confess to the violent and self-obsessed Padraic that his only friend in the world – this cat – is dead, or cover up the truth.
Dark humor injects itself throughout the play, beginning with the duo’s mad decision and near-obsession to cover up the crime rather than confess and deal with the nasty consequences. Among their ideas: telling Padraic he’s merely sick, and substituting and shoe-polishing another cat. When Padraic arrives home, their plan is to tell him Wee Thomas has a disease that makes him smell like shoe polish and “get all orangey.”
I thought the entire ensemble was well cast, and the director effortlessly melded the stage crew as well. Thanks to vocal coach Cynthia Barrett for making the actors’ brogues, for the most part, crisp and clear. McManus was lucky to find actors up to the caliber and height of Tim McDonough. Mairead, the only female character, had a difficult task of playing with the boys and proving in the end to be an even more zealous maniac than Padraic, her love. I found Teissler the most difficult to understand, and for some reason chose to focus her gaze out beyond the audience above far stage left. Perhaps the choice was to invoke a dreamy sixteen year old with an eye to a future far from Inishmore, but I found it distracting. The easiest to understand, I thought, was Jonathan Durie, who (I think) was the only non-American on stage. A tip of the hat to Mark Cabus’s Christy, lollipop-wielding and eye-patched, entering with the most benign greeting, “How do!” only to take a sinister turn on Padraic with his henchmen. Krakovsky and Harland made a lovable duo backing up Cabus, and it’s too bad that the audience’s hearts had already been won over by the other comic team, McDonough and Read.
Not having read the script, I can only hope that a brilliant directorial turn was taken by Donald McManus in having Tim McDonough in character as Donny giving the curtain speech each night with Wee Thomas, very much alive, in arms. A beautifully subtle way to get the audience – and PETA – to both see a live cat from the get-go, and reassure that no animals will be harmed during the production. I found it off-putting and unnecessary, however, for an ASM to cook food for the cat onstage before show. At first I thought that the point was to get the smell wafting through the air, but the smell didn’t last. Then I thought it was to show off that the play had a working hotplate, but that’s not such a great feat. All in all, no one needs to see an ASM’s backside for a solid ten minutes. I chalked it up as simply confounding.
In Kat Conley’s beautifully designed set, the main piece is Donny’s home. The large roof beams were either an optical illusion or cunningly designed, as they looked quite heavy and I was shocked to not see them stretch to the floor behind stage. A great use of space in front of the stage, a rocky shore along the front of the set took us outside to the shores of Inishmore, and a steel structure at stage right became Padraic’s torture warehouse in Northern Ireland. Kudos to the poor actor having to hang upside down for a good ten minutes…not to mention his fellow actor who had no means of cutting him down if necessary, as the winch was operated from below. I thought the physical separation of playing space not only helped denote geographic distance, but helped drive home that Inishmore is an island, and there’s something isolated and self-sufficient about island dwellers: every man for him- or her-self.
Liz Waldman’s sound structure was thoughtful throughout. Highlights for me were the water-dripping with echo effect for the warehouse, and the live drumming for “The Patriot Game.” I could have done without “Are You Ready for a War?” sung by the full cast at the end. If the purpose there was to uplift audience spirits after a dark show…it was catchy, certainly, but too long, and uplifted nothing.
The costumes were unremarkable – with no offense meant to designer Ros Staib, who had a slim palette to work within, with blood-cleaning issues and lots of drab/dull scenarios to consider. A nod, certainly, to Mairead’s dress, made entirely of men’s shirts and ties.
I must take issue with Wee Thomas’s reappearance at the end of the show. By the time the cat comes home, the point of the play has already hit home: terrorism is a fool's paradise – pointless and creating needless hurt and confusion. Concretely put via the cat’s return: all this fuss for nothing. So, why the bright light and angelic chorus? All the audience needs to see is the cat appearing on the window ledge (pushed or tossed from below by a willing ASM). Pardon the use of this word, but: overkill.
I was fortunate to work on McDonagh’s The Pillowman at Actor’s Express some years ago, and had seen Theater Gael’s staging of The Cripple of Inishmaan. Though I hadn’t read this play nor seen it live before, I guessed it would be gripping, bloody, gory, unsettling…or all of the above. I was stunned to learn that McDonagh is quite young – just 40. He has a bevy of plays under his belt as well as – I think – In Bruges was his screenplay, yes? Seeing Theater Emory feature a young(er) playwright is a nice bookend to the 6x6 productions that will end the season. Theater Emory has done a lot to surprise in the past few seasons: showing Ad Hoc they can do musicals, too, and now some blood & guts. I look forward to Persuasion, the rest of this season, and beyond.