An Lanntair, Stornoway, 21 July 2007

Macdara Vallely in Voice of the Sea.

IT SEEMED like one event too many. Some of us in Stornoway had not quite come down from party mode since the Heb Celt. Others were fatigued. The visitors were enjoying sunshine whilst a lot of the country was flooding. So it took an effort to enter the theatre to experience another show about the Clearances.

But Macdara Vallely won a Fringe First with another show, ‘Peacefire’. in 2004, and they don’t give these away in lucky bags. I was interested in seeing how two performers would combine music and storytelling. I think the publicity sold the performance short. What you got was a dynamic sweep of culture, presented in the simplest way with positive aggression and superb technique.

A spotlight shone on the musician’s chair. Uillean pipes and wood flutes at the ready. Another light hit on a pile of sand with a pocket-sized radio, the style that used to be called a tranny. A figure emerged from the sand and his voice alternated with the radio broadcasts, offset and overlapping with haunting, wailing heartstopping and heartening playing.

That was it. No projection. No dancing, except for the fingers of the musician, Ivan Goff, and the body of the storyteller, Macdara Vallely. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve nothing against dancing and projection, but how many productions have we all seen in recent years where one element too many is introduced. And the focus falls from the language or the movements that drive it.

This wasn’t about the clearances really. It was asking how what matters in our lives, lived at the Atlantic edge, will continue. It was more Beckett than McGrath. One Island was being evacuated. One voice remains to join the strands of loose narratives and throw that compelling net far and wide.

You get a break from the intensity of that voice by following the parallel story of more contemporary exile and loss that unfolds as news updates of a Search and Rescue mission. But there are so many rhythms within the narrative and so much humour and vitality in the main narrative that you are eager to go back to it.

If I try to describe the contents it will sound wetter than water – the legends of Fionn himself, leading on to those of his son, and all joined up. But within that simple framework you have a quality of devising and delivery that evokes Greek or Shakespearean comedy and tragedy. I was reminded of something else and only afterwords realised it was the story of David and Absalom.

Often a fine piece of theatre gets one outing, a wee tour and it’s gone. All this audience, I think, were very grateful to those who funded or hosted this performance. I’d certainly go again.

© Ian Stephen, 2007