The Gigli Concert – Darlinghurst Theatre Company and O’Punsky’s Theatre

Overview

Plumbing the rich history of Irish theatre, you might expect Tom Murphy’s The Gigli Concert to revel in the kind of bleak existential humour that characterises the work of Samuel Beckett, or perhaps the seductive wit of Oscar Wilde. Though treasured wells of inspiration and formal innovation, these modernist gods of prose and stage can tend to hinder recognition of Ireland's contemporary dramatists.

Presented by Darlinghurst Theatre Company and O'Punsky's Theatre, Murphy's theatrical tale (and by some accounts, his finest) is set in a dank, dirty chamber strewn with books and liquor. As the lights come up, in shuffles a bleary-eyed JPW 'Jimmy' King (Patrick Dickson). Spending his days gulping down cheap vodka, perusing the pages of Heidegger and Kierkegaard, and pining after the disinterested love of his life, this shabby intellectual is a quack psychiatrist, or ‘dynamatologist’.

However, his routine is disrupted by the arrival of a mysterious Irishman seeking psychiatric treatment. The unlikely patient (Maeliosa Stafford) is tight-lipped and stiff-jawed — a self-made construction manager and family man. As psychotic outbursts begin to fracture his no-nonsense manner, it becomes apparent that he is consumed by the odd desire to sing like Italian opera singer, Beniamino Gigli.

There is a slippage between patient and psychiatrist as the pair take it in turns to drive the vodka-fuelled sessions, divulging lost loves and marital bitterness. Jimmy's pseudo-scientific ramblings are a delightful fusion of ‘reach your potential’ diagrams and catchphrases. The intoxicated swagger and gestural exuberance of Dickson’s performance is certainly entertaining. The physicality of his stage presence counters the common assumption that Irish dramatists bury the body under verbal complexities.

With the rhythmic twang of his Irish accent and his hard pragmatism, Stafford’s enigmatic Irishman is the perfect compliment. Reflecting on his gritty, impoverished childhood, he becomes an engaging storyteller. Oscillating between scepticism and romanticism, the character is difficult to pin down.

There's also a third character, Mona (Kim Lewis). A married Irishwoman, reeking of rough charm and brash humour, she is Jimmy's lover. Arguably, this underwritten character functions largely to shine light on Jimmy's flaws; however, Lewis makes the most of the material, painting a sympathetic woman of iron-clad bravery, unlike her male counterparts.

Director John O'Hare has rallied together a strong cast and they deliver the vivid and memorable performances necessary to bring this long and dialogue-heavy play to life. Gigli's operatic tenor is woven through at various volumes, almost like a fourth character. This musical backdrop is integral to understanding the mystical union between the characters. As Stafford's Irishman ponders: "Like, you can talk forever... but singing. Singing d'yeh know? ... The only possible way to tell people who you are."