Reviews: Shining City / Omid Djalili: Live!

Published on Monday 10 March 2008 19:19

THEATRE SHINING CITY ***

BYRE THEATRE, ST ANDREWS

AS ANYONE who has seen his powerful 1998 masterpiece The Weir will know, Conor McPherson's drama often proceeds not by acting out the story, but by finding a character who will tell it with a haunted intensity that burns it on to the mind. It's therefore no surprise that the heart and soul of his 2004 play Shining City – revived for a UK-wide tour by Michael Emans's East-Kilbride-based Rapture Theatre – lies in the story told by John, the central character, about the circumstances surrounding the horrific death of his wife in a traffic accident. The story is told to John's Dublin therapist, a priest-turned-counsellor called Ian, over two sessions. And this core narrative is framed by three other scenes, in which we see something of the messy circumstances of Ian's own life.

The parallels between the two stories are obvious; as is McPherson's effort to explore the idea of therapy as a way of transferring the burden of guilt from one soul to another. But in Emans's slightly rough-edged production, these ideas seem poorly realised compared with the central story of John's midlife torment and its chilling consequences. All four cast members – including Rory Murray, as a late replacement in the role of Ian – give thoughtful performances. But Michael Glenn Murphy, as John, is unforgettably moving, the pain of his story etched on his small face in a way that catches the heart, and ensures John's story becomes part of the legend of modern Ireland.

JOYCE McMILLAN

COMEDY

OMID DJALILI: LIVE! ***

GLASGOW ROYAL CONCERT HALL

FOLLOWING his BBC series, Omid Djalili's profile has never been higher, or his ill-defined role as a Middle East spokesman less easy to overlook. In the past, the Anglo-Iranian's professed – or rather, perhaps, protested-too-much – reluctance to accept this double-edged title has seemed disingenuous, given the extent to which he exploits his Iranian origins and vague Western understanding of the region for his act. But mainstream success has rendered the responsibility more onerous and Djalili applies the full weight of his considerable performance skills to matching his billing. His exuberant set-pieces can occasionally mask underwhelming writing, with a song and dance in lieu of a punchline or a Nigerian accent wrung to death for every last, accentuated syllable. But Djalili appreciates this full well, subsuming the more hack elements into the projection of his loveably outsize persona, while other crowd favourites like the Godzilla impressions are simply impossible to resist.

JAY RICHARDSON