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Review: The Brightening Air (The Old Vic)

Review by Sam Waite

 

⭐️⭐️

 

There is, understandably, an air of anticipation and bated breath when an artist revisits the site of previous success. In this case, the sense of wonder is heightened as Olivier-winner Conor McPherson returns to The Old Vic as both writer and director with his new play The Brightening Air, set to be followed by a remounting of McPherson’s own triumphant Girl from the North Country. His victory lap just around the corner, the question is whether he’s onto a double-bill of delights, or if lightning really doesn’t strike the same place twice.



Taking its title from a Yeats poem, The Brightening Air observes the affairs – both the day-to-day and the extramarital – of a family in rural Ireland, beginning with them gathering for a late lunch/early dinner. Middle child Stephen looks after the family farmhouse while both assisted by and caring for younger sister Billie, while their elder brother Dermot left to wed childhood friend Lydia and take ownership of several cafes. Alongside the trio’s uncle, retired (not by choice) preacher Pierre and his live-in housekeeper, the guest list is completed by a staff member of Dermot’s – one who is, understandably, given a frosty reception by his wife.

 

Gathering these personalities under one roof and throwing Stephen’s struggles to find the cash to pay a local farmhand into the mix, the stage is absolutely set for zany antics and quickfire family drama. However this doesn’t really come until well into the second act, which seems at times deadest on resolving conflicts that were never fully established. McPherson’s writing is as solid as his tenure would have you expect, and there are some genuine compelling threads at play, though none ever seems to be plucked with the focus they ought to. A love triangle, a cultish group of retired priests, and the potential influence of a magical well all factor into the plot, but none are given the room to breathe that would make them truly land.

 


Where McPherson’s script is most consistent is when leaning into its comedic elements – insults both veiled and openly barbed are flung about, and Billie’s frequent disregard for decency in the presence of her elders is continually winning. Billie and Dermot prove to be the most memorable of the eight-person ensemble, partly because of their more broadly drawn, dynamic personalities, but largely because they are the two characters drawn on most for comedic input. Of course, this is to be expected with I.T Crowd and Bridesmaids favourite Chris O’Dowd in the role of Dermot, rarely going far below the surface of the part but willing to play the boorish oaf and able to throw his entire weight behind a joke.

 

As youngest sibling Billie, Rosie Sheehy proves to be the standout performer of the evening, totally winning from the first moments and digging into some genuine pathos later in the performance. Alongside still-injured fingers from an earlier accident, Billie is referred to as not “normal” and as having meltdowns, (coupled with her seeming hyper-fixated on certain topics, I wondered whether neurodivergence was being implied) Sheehy manages to sell Billie’s status as an outcast without losing her inherent appeal. It also helps that a strong singing voice is showcased at the first act’s close, accompanied by Sheehy’s onstage piano-playing.

 


While not poor by any stretch of the imagination, and all having moments showcasing their strengths as actors, the rest of the cast struggle to break out from the pack. In this Chekhov-inspired play, the action is slow-building, and tragically the opportunities for the cast to shine more brightly are either not taken as firmly as they could, or simply don’t appear until too far into the story. The direction takes this same slow-burn approach, at times creating a nice, realistic view of rural life, but creating a cluster of conflict towards the second act’s conclusion when every loose plot thread is pulled together too sharply, and all those slow-burns ignite at once and overwhelm one another.

 

Rae Smith has created a suitably drab living space (meant as a compliment, I promise you!) for the family homestead, and Mark Henderson has provided suitably sedated lighting for the implied cloud cover and grey skies outside. Lamps flicked on mid-scene help to illuminate just how dreary this rural setting seems to be, while Smith has littered the place with mismatched chairs to reinforce the hard times and well-worn furnishings that make up Stephen and Billie’s day to day lives. These pieces, the chairs and dining table in particular, are moved around a fair amount during the show, though it’s not always clear as to why – obviously the table is brought in to allow for more guests at lunch/dinner, but why then does it move repeatedly within that same room?

 


Particularly impressive work comes from fight director Kate Waters, who has a couple of opportunities to showcase her work. While they are smaller moments of a snatched away hand or a more typical one-on-one brawl, Waters’ work serves great dramatic and comedic effect in a sequence involving all three siblings as well as others from within the ensemble, with actors climbing atop one another and some real sense of threat stemming from the encounter. In a show where many scenes can feel static or that bit too rigid, this moment of genuine excitement and chaos is more than welcome.

 

The work of an obviously skilled creator but lacking the requisite drive to really lock into its themes, The Brightening Air fizzles at times with its own potential, but never truly bubbles over in this relaxed, sometimes-unfocused production. While this show didn’t hook me the way I would have hoped, perhaps it’s worth noting that McPherson’s key influences (Chekhov, as a key example) don’t always resonate with me either – for myself there were moments with glimmers of possibility, and undoubtedly for others they will shimmer throughout the evening.

 

The Brightening Air plays at The Old Vic Theatre until June 14th

 

 

Photos by Manuel Harlan

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