WORDS Maria Hagan
Written by Christine Dwyer Hickey and directed by Rosemary McKenna, Snow Angels is a bleak and poignant portrayal of contemporary Irish manhood.
Three housemates wake up one morning to find themselves trapped inside the house that they have recently moved into. They are keyless in the dusty house littered with cardboard boxes. The windows are barred, the doors are indestructible, and to make matters worse the pipes have frozen. Nursing the previous night’s hangover and preparing for a party that evening, they find themselves in limbo between hangovers, realising that there is no food or alcohol in the house.
The old-fashioned decor of the house at first seems slightly at odds with the contemporaneity of the action: an iPhone rings from offstage. However, this emphasises the play’s lament of an era dominated by technology rather than simple human interaction. The set creates an overarching sense of nostalgia for a simpler, more human time.
The action relies mostly on stories and memories exchanged by the characters. The dialogue is particularly well written, effectively capturing audience attention. Humour is also cleverly injected to nuance the play’s overall gloom. Stripped bare of their gadgets and of any means of engaging with consumer society, the men can only turn towards — or against — one another. Rivalries are brought to a head as the men, sobering up, are fraught with boredom. Eventually, they dismiss the futile and address deep personal concerns. Secrets and lies reveal themselves. Loyalties of family and friendship are brought into question, and presented as breaking at the seams.
All notion of time is broken in Snow Angels. It is as though the men’s lives are paused for reflection, a comment on the vacant busyness of modern life. As their discussions turn sour, the writer, pianist and directionless student are overcome by a profound helplessness. Each comes to realise how unemployable and prospectless he is — a condition that rings painfully true to the young Dublin audience.
Projected overhead, snow falls incessantly throughout the performance. Visually effective, this staging enhances their entrapment, casting a natural division between the men and the outside world. The image is strongly reminiscent of Joyce’s Dubliners, a work that the play echoes compellingly. These men are certainly not angels, but we are asked to question whether this is a fault of their own or of their society. The audience is left to decide whether the falling snow represents eternal entrapment or a fresh start.
However, unintentional overlaps in the actors’ dialogue reveal slight imperfections in the performance. Perhaps the opening night is a little premature. Nevertheless, though a little rough around the edges, Snow Angels is a highly enjoyable performance that engages with its time and invites for serious reflection.
8.15pm at Project Arts Centre, until March 15.
Grade: 2. 1
