Theater Review

“ Observe the Sons of Ulster Marching Towards the Somme”

**** (out  of 4)

Violent memories impel, impale

By Colin Dabkowski THE BUFFALO NEWS
STAFF REVIEWER
Updated: 03/04/07 4:11 PM

There might be nothing sadder than a group of men bound by destructive memories. In “Observe the Sons of Ulster Marching Towards the Somme,” a unit of Northern Irish soldiers becomes so assaulted by memories of their violent past that they eagerly volunteer to rush headlong to their deaths.

Frank McGuinness, the playwright, knew well the deep alliances that bound the Loyalist Protestants of Northern Ireland together. As a Catholic, he seemed to realize the deeply futile nature of attempting to sever those bonds while condemning them as capable of the worst kind of destruction.

And the Irish Classical Theatre, capable of the best kind of representation, took this lesson as deeply to heart as it is possible to go. The production is practically flawless, even down to the surprisingly good Northern Irish accents, and it lets nothing get in the way of the very potent lesson of the play: We cannot escape our memories, try as we might. We can only incorporate them into our lives, hope for the best, and prepare ourselves for the worst.

As the play opens, we see an old man in a chair, deeply engaged in a conversation with God. The man, Kenneth Pyper (Jim Mohr), is recalling his time as a volunteer member of the 37th (Ulster) Division in World War I. He speaks with longing and regret about the fact that he is still alive, while the rest of his division perished in gloryless battle.

“Some of us were lucky enough to suffer your visions immediately,” he says, supplicating God. “Darkness for eternity is not survival.”

As the elder Pyper speaks, memories of his time in the Ulster Division return to haunt him, as the members of his unit appear as specters on stage. In the second act, we look through the elder Pyper’s eyes at those very memories: the troops’ lives leading up to their deaths.

A scene in which the troops introduce themselves to one another on the first night after joining up is dominated, with no complaints, by Brendan Powers as the younger Pyper, a self-described “rare boy.” Pyper’s gallivanting and somewhat flamboyant practical joking at first throws off the hyper-masculinity of the rest of the troops but grows soon enough into an endearing trait. But any joking and lightness the characters exude is always wrought with pent-up frustration, a violence bubbling under the surface that rears its head throughout and produces in the audience a similarly subdued sense of dread.

As the men pair off, tribal alliances and fears reconstitute themselves in conversations, just as they will eventually do in battle. In a particularly disturbing but beautiful scene, George Anderson (Christian Brandjes) puffs his chest out with Protestant pride, making a drunken speech about the glory of the people of Ulster and their willingness to fight, even to die, for their cause. But, as Anderson says the word “die,” his chest slowly unpuffs, he repeats the word twice, and then breaks down as he realizes that he himself will almost certainly fulfill that grim prophesy as he marches with the rest of his unit into the bloody battle of the Somme on July 1, 1916.

The play’s immediate relevance — both in Ireland and Iraq — should be obvious.

Drama presented by the Irish Classical Theatre Company through April 1 in Andrews Theatre, 625 Main St. For more information, call 853- 4282 or go online at www.irishclassicaltheatre.com.

cdabkowski@buffnews.com