REVIEW: Local drama group deliver memorable ensemble performance in Dancing at Lughnasa

On Monday evening at the The Source Arts Centre, Thurles Drama Group delivered a truly masterful production of Dancing at Lughnasa, a feat of mesmeric ensemble acting that held the audience in rapt attention from first line to final tableau.

This sensational production directed by Margaret McCormack, captures the subtle layers of meaning in Friel’s deeply metaphorical play, exploring its key themes of family dynamics, memory, desire, social constraint, and the tension between tradition and change.

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This year marks the thirtieth anniversary of Thurles Drama Group’s last production of this classic play.

Dancing at Lughnasa stands as one of the pivotal achievements of twentieth century Irish theatre. Written by master craftsman Brian Friel and first staged at the Abbey Theatre in 1990, the play draws on memories of Friel’s own family in Donegal to tell a story that is at once intimate and profoundly resonant. 

Set in the summer of 1936 in the fictional village of Ballybeg, it unfolds at an epochal moment in Irish history, poised between tradition and change, shaped by economic hardship, emigration, and the pervasive influence of Church and State.

Set against the backdrop of the Festival of Lughnasa, the ancient pagan Celtic harvest celebration, the play is narrated by the adult Michael Evans, who looks back to the summer of 1936 when he was just seven years old, living with his mother Chris and her four sisters, Kate, Maggie, Agnes, and Rose, in their modest Ballybeg home. The household is a tightly knit unit, bound by love and routine.

Their elder uncle, Father Jack, has recently returned from missionary work in Uganda, weakened by malaria and profoundly changed by his time abroad.

He has “gone native” in outlook and habit, and he is not the same man anymore. His presence, along with the intermittent visits of Michael’s father, Gerry Evans, brings both disruption and a glimpse of life beyond the confines of the village.

The Mundy family’s economic situation reinforces the sense of constraint that shapes their lives. Kate, as the household’s only wage-earner, shoulders the responsibility of supporting her sisters and maintaining the home, while Agnes and Rose contribute through the modest earnings of glove knitting, a small cottage industry typical of the era.

Maggie, Rose, and Chris manage the daily chores, tending the hens, preparing meals, and keeping the household running.

In Dancing at Lughnasa, dance symbolizes romance, escape, and fleeting freedom. The sisters briefly entertain the idea of attending the harvest dance, but Kate dismisses it, worried about the judgment of the community: “Do you want the whole countryside to be laughing at us? Women of our age? Mature women, dancing?”

Maggie’s memories of youthful dances and her love for Brian McGuinness, along with the flirtation between Gerry and Chris, highlight the tension between desire and social constraint. The sisters’ wild kitchen dance becomes a moment of release, allowing them to embrace the joy, sensuality, and vitality that their daily lives in conservative 1930s Ireland often deny.

The performances in this production are world class and captivating, drawing the audience fully into the lives of the Mundy family. Maria McElgunn gives a compelling and nuanced performance as Kate, the matriarch of the household and the main breadwinner.

McElgunn conveys Kate’s preoccupation with appearances with remarkable subtlety, capturing not just her concern for social standing but the mental and emotional tension that lies beneath. 

McElgunn portrays Kate’s constant grappling with duty, faith, and familial responsibility with a depth that elevates the character beyond mere rigidity.

Where a lesser actress might have emphasized only the nagging or controlling aspects of Kate, McElgunn penetrates to the emotional core of the character, revealing her isolation, quiet anguish, and the weight of her lifelong responsibilities.

During the sisters’ wild kitchen dance, she resists for a time this bodily temptation - when she does dance Kate is seen dancing on the perimeter of the scene - even in this moment of liberation she restricts herself.

Every gesture, pause, and inflection communicates the internal struggle of a woman determined to protect her family while managing her own unmet desires and disappointments.

Geraldine Delaney gives a captivating performance as Maggie, the seemingly carefree joker of the Mundy household. Always ready with a song, joke, or dance, she keeps the family together with warmth and humour, showing generosity and genuine affection for young Michael. 

Delaney also conveys the purpose behind Maggie’s levity, revealing the deeper unhappiness and frustration beneath her cheerful exterior.

This is especially clear when Kate recounts Maggie’s old friend Bernie O’Donnell, who escaped Ballybeg to build a life in England, leaving Maggie to confront quiet longing and disappointment.

Delaney’s subtle performance illuminates these hidden sorrows without diminishing Maggie’s charm, capturing the complexity of a woman who balances resilience, humour, and vulnerability.

Stacey Taylor delivers a nuanced and deeply affecting performance as Chris, Michael’s mother and the emotional anchor of the Mundy household.

From the start, Chris quietly yearns for a more exciting life - wanting to dance, to improve her appearance, and to find love - while carrying the weight of shame for having Michael out of wedlock, a burden Kate occasionally reminds her of.

Her fraught relationship with Gerry Evans adds further tension, stirring hope, desire, and frustration. Taylor conveys Chris’s constant struggle between duty and self-fulfillment with subtlety and emotional precision, making her desires, frustrations, and resilience vividly real.

Paula Drohan delivers a quietly powerful performance as Agnes, the most reserved of the Mundy sisters yet perhaps the strongest-willed, with remarkable hidden reserves of strength.

Drohan captures Agnes’s thoughtful presence, her habit of listening as the others banter, and her tendency to keep her emotions close to the chest.

Yet beneath her quiet exterior, Agnes is unafraid to assert herself when necessary, whether standing up to her sisters or confronting difficult truths, such as her anger when Kate refuses to use Gerry Evans’s name. Drohan brings depth to Agnes’s longing for life beyond Ballybeg. 

She is the first to suggest that the sisters attend the harvest dance and makes a heartfelt, emotional plea for the freedom and joy of dancing.

When she joins her sisters in the iconic kitchen dance, Drohan conveys grace, pride, and quiet defiance, showing a woman fully alive in that fleeting moment of liberation.

Her portrayal of Agnes’s attraction to Gerry Evans is equally compelling; when dancing with Gerry, she moves with an effortless elegance and intimacy, as if their connection has been a lifelong one. Drohan renders Agnes as a quietly commanding presence, a woman whose strength and inner life resonate long after the stage lights dim.

Ciara O’Meara delivers a buoyant and charming performance as Rose, the youngest and most innocent of the Mundy sisters. Rose appears childlike and carefree, often described in the language of the time as “a bit simple.”

O’Meara emphasizes Rose’s unfiltered honesty and lack of shame, setting her in sharp contrast to Kate’s preoccupation with social status and appearances. Fiercely protected by her sisters, Rose nevertheless harbours a passionate yearning for love and excitement, especially in her fascination with Danny Bradley.

O’Meara balances this longing with Rose’s role in sustaining the family through glove-making, a cottage industry threatened by a new factory, foreshadowing her eventual emigration with Agnes. O’Meara infuses the character with warmth, mischief, and humour, making Rose utterly engaging.

Liam Ryan inhabits Father Jack with a compelling mix of vulnerability and eccentricity. Returning from Uganda to a world that feels alien, he conveys Jack’s frailty, doddery mind, and struggle to find words, while also revealing his fascination with the pagan rituals he witnessed abroad.

Unlike Kate, Jack is tolerant and open, embracing practices that would shock his conservative community. In Friel’s play, he contrasts sharply with the constrained lives of the Mundy sisters, embodying freedom, openness, and alternative ways of living.

His presence highlights the tension between tradition and change, duty and desire, and underscores the play’s themes of cultural transition.

Pat Loughnane delivers a magnetic performance as Gerry Evans, a charming yet deeply unreliable man. Feckless and self-serving, Gerry drifts through Ballybeg.

Loughnane conveys his restless energy and appetite for adventure, from flirtation and dance to his impulsive decision to join the International Brigade in Spain. Gerry’s presence unsettles Kate, threatening the household’s fragile equilibrium.

Loughnane balances his roguish charm with inherent unreliability, showing a man who opens the sisters’ world, if only briefly, while remaining incapable of offering stability.

Derek Doherty delivers a quietly assured performance as Michael, the adult narrator whose memories frame the story. Balancing innocence with reflective insight, he captures the bittersweet weight of nostalgia, grounding the ensemble and allowing the audience to experience the joys and sorrows of the Mundy family’s summer with clarity and emotional resonance.

The visual and atmospheric elements of Thurles Drama Group’s production are superbly realised through set and lighting. Anne O'Dwyer, who designed the company’s first production of Dancing at Lughnasa thirty years ago, reprises her role, creating a lived-in, intimate Mundy household filled with domestic details that evoke both warmth and poverty in 1930s rural Ireland.

Dean Rossiter’s lighting design masterfully enhances the play’s emotional and thematic depth. Warm, golden tones illuminate the Mundy home, evoking intimacy and familial comfort, while cold, pale light casts the garden sequences, reflecting the coldness of the outside world.

Most strikingly, the kitchen dance scene glows in vivid red, a bombastic explosion of colour and frenzy that perfectly complements the sisters’ wild, liberating choreography. The energy, sensuality, and sheer joy of the movement make this moment worth the price of admission alone.

I would urge everyone to come and witness world-class art right on their doorstep. Thurles Drama Group have rendered Friel’s vision with remarkable skill, bringing every character, every moment, and every nuance to life. This is simply, incontrovertible class.

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