Paul Mercier's hugely entertaining new production for Passion Machine Theatre Company resets a Celtic myth in the crime-ridden underworld of modern Dublin. This is pared-back, ensemble-driven spectacle at its best: there is no set, seven actors play an array of roles, no gag is spared, and yet a remarkably clear narrative emerges.
Adaptor/director Mercier follows the bones of the myth closely, but adds a revisionist spin that will doubtless alienate some purists. Heroic Fionn McCool is now a none-too-bright gang boss; his valiant tribe, the Fianna, are a band of dopey thugs sporting various widths of pinstripe and depths of inner-city Dublin accent.
Mercier's version is also a mildly feminist recuperation of Grainne's story. In the myth she is a young princess who is to be married off to the older Fionn for political reasons, but forces one of Fionn's men, Diarmuid, to flee with her on her wedding night. History has blamed Grainne for betraying her race, but here Mercier paints her as a likable, spirited wild child who chafes at being used as a sexual pawn, even though that is exactly what she is destined to be.
There is a calculated sophistication behind the production's rough-and-tumble look. Mercier puts the focus on his actors' adaptability and energy, and invites the audience to imagine location and character changes that a more realistic approach would have spelled out.
When Grainne makes her escape by car with the reluctant Diarmuid in the driver's seat, she breaks into a triumphant love song to a recorded backing track. The rest of the actors emerge with electric fans and hand-held lights to transform their getaway into a kind of filmic fantasy - hair blowing in the breeze and so on. The aplomb with which Emily Nagle delivers the song, even though she patently can't sing, exemplifies the actors' engaging commitment.
Among the gifted cast, David Pearse shines as a series of defective heavies and improbable slicksters. Mercier's only fault is that he has tried to pack too much in: audience interest starts to flag in the second half, as Diarmuid and Grainne's flight is depicted in excessive detail. But overall this production affirms that veteran populist theatre-maker Mercier hasn't lost his touch, and that the recent stream of high-energy, audience-friendly Irish shows (Stones in His Pockets, Alone It Stands) is not abating.
· Until March 30. Box office: 00 353 1 677 1020.
