Aidan Mathews's new play interrogates faith in a contemporary Irish context by placing a terminally ill young man centre-stage and making his death the play's central dramatic action. Jordan is a 30-year-old Catholic with a brain tumour; Marcus is his manic-depressive younger brother with a sardonic quip for everything and scars on both of his wrists.
Their devout mother, Martha, attends to Jordan with patience, but has absolutely none for her younger son: "Are you still talking about your ludicrous little illness?" she spits at Marcus when he disobeys her. The local priest, just returned from Rwanda, hovers close to the action, as does the awkward neighbour Arthur, and Marcus's new girlfriend Felicity.
Mathews is a published poet, and the dialogue here is beautifully observed. His portraits of clever people trapped in their wit are often convincing and insightful. But because he does not integrate his religious themes evenly into the contemporary context, the overall message is hard to discern.
We are clearly encouraged to identify Jordan, wracked with pain in his adult diaper, with Jesus; but the extent to which the other characters map onto historical figures is problematic - what or who is Marcus betraying, Judas-like, through his doubt and self-absorption? More troubling still is Mathews's idealisation of the women as succour figures. Martha's main conflict seems to be her inability to be the perfect mother to both her sons, and the scene where the voluptuous Janet Moran, as Felicity, soothes and entices Jordan by dancing in her bra is an offensive objectification.
Martin Drury's superbly elegant production absorbs many of these problems, however. He embraces even the set changes as opportunities to explore character and extend the heightened atmosphere.
While the first act is overly elongated by the onstage celebration of a Catholic mass, the second becomes a shared ritual between audience and performers, as Martha coaxes out Jordan's last breaths by evoking the process of birth: "Push now, push. The blue world welcomes you, my honey one, my happiness."
Mathews may have raised more problems than he can solve with this play, but his seriousness of intent and ambition are admirable, and the standards of acting and production are faultless.
· Until June 8. Box office: 00 353 1 878 7222.
