If this show had been just a chatty, autobiographical concert, I would have enjoyed it for Dempsey’s expressive vocals and his local connection and following, because that would be a concert. If this show had been something approaching a Ted Talk, I could have appreciated what would probably be a performance consisting of mostly monologue and several songs spread throughout, because that would have been a Ted Talk. The former, it’s not unreasonable to say, would do quite well being staged in Vicar Street. The latter, would suit anything from, again, Vicar Street to a college event hosted in a large lecture hall. Admittedly, a Ted Talk in Vicar Street would either go on for too long for what it is, or would be too short for there to be a consistent turnout. The two points I’m trying to make are that this show didn’t exactly know what it was, nor did it become an entertaining hybrid, and that Tales from the Holywell should have definitely been put on in Vicar Street.
This show wasn’t a play, a concert, or an interview- It was an in-between entity and failed to take on the features of a particular form. I can’t say that Tales from the Holywell was successful at owning the work’s formlessness either. The stage design was that of a concert, in many ways. As far as deviating from that, there was a lighting rig that would hang in front of Damien and each of the band members, only to rise at two moments that don’t particularly call for a reveal or opening up of the space, undermined further by the fact that this was one of the few stage design changes. Towards the very end, the back curtain rose to reveal a row of lighting at the back with some mirrors. All of this was quite anticlimactic.
There was a point, however, where an opaque curtain came down, hiding the band but leaving Dempsey alone on stage, with each band member backlit to cast their silhouette on the curtain in question. This staging suited the topic of the monologue where Dempsey discusses violence and instances of confrontation with bullies from his youth, and was the one moment I recall where I could say it made sense that this show was put on in the Abbey. It was also the one moment I could even begin to believe that a writer and director as accomplished as Conor McPherson was directing the show. I have seen his writing performed and have heard of his directorial strength in The Girl from the North Country – the achievements and success of which are well known. McPherson’s talent was, to me, underused. While the pacing of the show between songs and monologues was quite consistent and neither part overstayed its welcome at any particular point, the transitions from monologue to song were sometimes stilted. Otherwise, the mix of song and story was unproblematic in the first half. The show took to an intermission after a reasonable duration and I can’t fault the pacing there either.
The second half was a much less engaging affair, with the aforementioned mix of song and story dropping in quality. The flow between these two was much the same, however, the content of the story side of things was nowhere near as interesting and structured as the first half. The half started with a single song on a piano, positioned stage-right and removing Dempsey from his central spot which the whole stage seemed designed to focus on. He might as well have been in the wings as far as the blocking of the stage. The stage design was inactive in accommodating or adding reason to this repositioning of Dempsey. After this song, he returns to the centre of the stage and the show continues. I am still unsure as to why this was done in this way and I hope it wasn’t McPherson’s idea. If this was a concert elsewhere, I would have tolerated this and put it down to being a practical necessity for the stagehands.
Back to the structure of the storytelling, the issue of the anecdotes from Dempsey was more and more pronounced the closer the show got to its ending. There was no sense of journey or conclusion, leaving the back end of the show feeling very open-ended and underdeveloped. I happen to be a fan of shows that don’t follow a particular structure or aim straight at a cliché conclusion of sorts, but, as I mentioned before, this show didn’t seem to know where it was placing itself as a show; I would argue that a piece must be sure of itself, even if what it ought to be sure of is its own formlessness. A good actor playing a character who is awkward and riddled with nerves is delivering a good performance. A nervous or unsure actor who isn’t filtering that into their performance justifiably is visibly that more so than whatever character or shape they are trying to take. This show was unsure, and so am I.
As a final note, changing the tone a good deal, I have to say that Damien Dempsey’s stage presence and connection with the audience were strong and unwavering. He, funnily enough after all I’ve said, was very self-assured- I didn’t doubt his worth as an entertainer for a second. It was a shame this wasn’t put on in Vicar Street.
