No doubt inspired by being interviewed to death every time he publishes another Great American Novel, Don De Lillo's third play, which premiered in the US last year, is a satire of multichannel media familiar to science-fiction fans, in which live TV and capitalism engulf us completely, right down to our "shitmost selves".
The premise is absurdist: a businessman, Michael Majeski, intends to travel to Valparaiso, Florida, but mistakenly flies to Chicago. Somehow, this propels him into an avalanche of media interviews, all trying to get inside his airborne moment of realisation, each all but replicating the last. Each scene is an interview. Majeski quits his job and devotes himself to the limelight, enduring the bruising cynicism of his interviewers, or flirting with a young female journalist. Like something out of a JG Ballard novel, his life has suddenly become "luminous" in quality; pain is more intense, every thought charged with significance.
The scenario spirals in intensity in the second act: one long final scene, when Majeski and his wife Livia appear on the global daytime talk show hosted by the odious Delfina Treadwell (played with reptilian allure by Emma Lowe), and her co-presenter, the demoniacal Teddy Hoddell - a part made for Niall O Sioradain.
From here on De Lillo's colourless, odourless dialogue deliquesces into manic lyricism as Majeski's mind melts down: grinding through the miserable "sex stripped of culture" with his wife, his suicidal episode on the airplane, and worse. The language is extraordinary, even if it's not the most easily staged in the world, and the Greek chorus device is awkward and anachronistic.
As Majeski, Gerry O'Brien puts across an interesting mix of anonymity and bewilderment, while Niamh O'Shaughnessy gives a chilly performance as Livia. Under John O'Brien's direction, the veteran Iomha Ildanach company somehow crack the profound alienation of the piece, although the last scene lacks rhythm at times, and could have been pared back. For all that, this is a solid, head-on rendering of a contemporary paranoid nightmare.
Until August 26. Box office: 003531-6713387
***** Unmissable **** Recommended *** Enjoyable
** Mediocre * Terrible
