Theatre

Mischief

Oran Mor, Glasgow

Mary Brennan

three stars

THE rocky shore-line re-created on-stage in Gemma Patchett’s set is the isolated, spartan dwelling place of Ronnat and her daughter Brigid. There are cattle on the island, but they belong to the monastery over the water, and while the monks welcome the milk and butter that the women send over, the women themselves are not welcome. Women, it seems, are "mischief", and you can read into that a medley of trouble and temptation tied into lust and the sex act. All to be avoided and kept at a distance, according to the monks – which is pretty rich, given that Brigid’s now deceased father was the Abbot.

Such hypocrisy still lurks in our own times – and not only within the Church – but by setting her play in 800AD, writer Ellie Stewart is able to question who, or what belief system, has the right to dictate the moral frameworks of a community. Ronnat (Elspeth Turner) and Brigid (Alison McFarlane) still adhere to the old, pagan ways: charms are chanted, in Gaelic, to safeguard the cattle or ensure the cream churns to butter. It’s a musical/poetic element in director Gerda Stevenson’s sympathetic response to Stewart’s scenario and it heightens a sense of them being at one with nature. until a man, Fari (David Rankine), is washed up on the beach. Mischief is about to descend, disrupt and destroy everything the women have previously relied on.

Sex does come into it. And a child is subsequently born. The real mischief, however, creeps in with the assertive disciplines and ambitions of the monks whose determination to create the Book of Kells takes precedence over their Christian duty to their neighbours, even if they are women. Double standards are out in force here, but so is the saving grace of love, with nicely-judged performances and direction making mischief with our understanding of social change and religious dominance.

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