THEATER - "The Field"

John B. Keane wrote The Field forty years ago: all that means is that the adjective “timeless” fits now, right beside “brilliant.” Most positive phrases fit this colorful drama, and Ciaran O’Reilly’s direction overruns the few flaws in the script, like the two-and-a-half-hour length or the second act’s repetitious proselytizing. Under O’Reilly, the length is justified as an opportunity to remain in the company of such fine, engaging actors, and at least the overbearing exposition is boisterous.

The Field is simple dialogue wrapped around a simple plot—a plot of land, in fact, that a gentle widow has hired honest, hardworking Mick Flanagan, barkeep cum auctioneer, to publicly sell. Problem is, local bully ‘The Bull,’ feels entitled to the land since he’s leased it for the past five years. Keane’s characters are more human than most, which is to say that they’re flawed: Mick is pressured into cheating the woman, and when an outsider shows up to buy the land, it’s more surprising that The Bull weeps over killing the man than the actual murder itself.

The second act grows rather preachy and contrived, as the sergeant and priest attempt to break the lie of silence that surrounds Carriagthomond. They moralize and condemn the fearful villagers who won’t finger the killer, but at the same time, Keane makes it clear that he’s on the villagers’ side. He even uses the questioning as an opportunity to further develop character: Flanagan’s wife, Maimie, has a meltdown after discovering she’s pregnant with a tenth child, and Flanagan’s son grows disgusted by his father’s cowardice. Of course, it’s ultimately the actors who have to show those nuances onstage, and not a single one falls short: Orlagh Cassidy, Marty Maguire, and Ken Jennings (to name a few) go so far as to make Broadway look flimsy.

The Field is a struggle between old values—The Bull wants to farm the land—and new ones—Dee wants to pave the property. Modern theater often does the same: new works pave over the rich life of the land. The Field doesn’t cut those corners: it lives and revels in them.

[published 6-6-06 in Show Business Weekly]