“THE HEEL OF THE OPPRESSOR IN A FERRAGAMO SHOE”: MEDIUM AND MESSAGE IN IMPROBABLE FREQUENCY

Abstract

thrust stage in semi-darkness is crisscrossed with searchlights as performers enter and take up positions at small covered tables at edge of elevated playing area. The roving spots and low blue and green lights reveal a vague silhouette skyline and a line of six tall pillars. band is positioned to side of stage. Their music gives way to sounds of sirens, bleeping of code and radio interference. Lights converge on Peter Hanly, bespectacled, dressed in a brown suit with argyle vest and tie, perched on a high stool at a large curved wooden bar counter centre stage. Somewhat gangly but at ease, he addresses audience in RP accent, overtly presenting himself as narrator of a story about to unfold. Some of us were born to be spies, he opens, me, though, I sort of fell into it by chance. His tale of answering an ad in Telegraphis delivered in rhyming verse accompanied by music, and encounter with a soft-spoken Colonel is re-enacted. The Colonel, decked in military regalia, pops up abruptly from behind counter with a sheaf of papers concerning risks of Irish Nazi sympathizers, bizarre meteorological broadcasts and a mission to Ireland: A field agent! Crikey! I flushed with pride, / Though I had assumed Eire was on our side. / Oh, I know they're independent, and neutral as such; / But really, aren't they British, pretty much? exclaims Hanly's character, Tristram Faraday. With a sigh Colonel disappears behind counter. Blackout.1 2 The first scene of Improbable Frequency promises historical intrigue, a maladroit narrator and a potentially rich seam of irony. Clearly, too, set design, music, rhyme and mixed diegetic levels augur a ludic attitude towards theatrical convention.Since its foundation in 1984, Rough Magic Theatre Company has been committed to bringing innovative new theatre writing to Irish stage. Initially much of this work was non-Irish, though latterly focus has been on fostering new Irish writing as well as creative adaptations of classics, such as Phaedra or The Taming of Shrew. Central to their project has been belief that Irish theatre was, as Lynne Parker put it, rather inward looking3 and that exposure to other voices and dramaturgies is necessary and vital. As one of productions marking Rough Magic's twentieth anniversary year Improbable Frequency, written by founding member of company Arthur Riordan, with music by Bell Helicopter, synthesizes some very familiar motifs in Irish theatre - national identity, linguistic virtuosity, history and memory - with forms not so prominent in its history - musical and cabaret. Patrick Lonergan cites many of Irish points of reference in his review of 2004 production, remarking how it combines elements of the comic absurdism of Beckett, Behan's politicised vaudeville, Boucicault's melodrama, and gallows-humour cynicism of Ireland's younger writers.4 It also treats historical moment that has long-term ethical resonance, one that has arguably been among most important, if discreetly suppressed, factors in shaping of Irish identity since 1940s.In 2004, just ten years after official conclusion of state of emergency in existence since 19395 and almost sixty years after end of World War II, Improbable Frequency tackles issue of Irish neutrality. It is not first play to do so, though in contemporary theatre Frank McGuinness' Dolly West's Kitchen (1999) is only immediate predecessor. In contrast to naturalistic and discursive mode of Dolly West's Kitchen, however, Improbable Frequency is staged as a cabaret comedy; its set involves minimal props and dramatic action is interspersed with musical numbers self-consciously directed to audience.Set in 1941, plot revolves around improbable connections between a group of fictional and historical characters. Tristram Faraday, a very British Enigma style code breaker, is sent to Dublin to investigate extent of Irish sympathy for Nazis and curious coincidences pertaining to weather. …