Emotional heft propels 'Confessions'

February 03, 2004|Globe Staff

Adultery isn't a sin in the fictional Irish town of Baile Breag, says one character, it's a way of life. And it isn't just a way of life in Ronan Noone's "The Gigolo Confessions of Baile Breag," it's a metaphor for lost dreams, dead ends, and broken lives.

In the third installment of his Baile trilogy, Noone investigates the thin line between love and hate, elation and despair, innocence and experience, vindictiveness and violence, and lust and love. The local writer's voice continues to grow more powerful and more subtle, and his plays are now one of the highlights of any given theater season. (Unlike the more famous trilogy playing in movie theaters, there is no direct relationship between this play and the first two installments, so you don't need to have seen either of the other two.)

Noone strays off the path of naturalism here, experimenting with time, memory, and language while set designer Richard Chambers moves from the grunge realism of "The Blowin of Baile Gall" to a more ethereal approach, with a set of panels that frame a stark table and chair. Like "The Lepers of Baile Baiste," the first of the three plays, this one is produced by the Sugan Theatre Company and astutely directed by its artistic director, Carmel O'Reilly. The three characters move in and around the area, two of them examining the wounds they've inflicted on each other by revisiting their past.

Paddy and Rosie are variations on George and Martha in "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf," and the play itself comes across as a mind meld between Edward Albee and Sean O'Casey. The source of this longtime couple's often ferocious anger, it seems, is William, a young innocent who was ill-used by both of them before they hooked up with each other. Paddy had talked him into helping out with the married ladies of the town -- hence the title. Just about all the local women seem to need some relief from their inattentive or abusive spouses.

Noone always attracts top talent. Billy Meleady shines in just about everything he does as an actor, but there's a special sparkle to his work in the Noone plays. He ranges all over the emotional map, from impishness to anger, self-righteousness to ruefulness. Judith McIntyre "gives as good as she gets," to quote the play, with a provocativeness that is simultaneously sexual and censorious. It isn't clear until the end whether she's trying to tear down the house or restore its foundations.

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