Up a steep and grassy windblown hill, within the prime row of what’s often called the brand new graveyard, the playwright Brian Friel lies buried underneath a darkish, shiny slab etched with a picture of a St. Brigid’s cross, a conventional Irish image woven from rushes.
This little cemetery in a distant northwest nook of Eire has a sweeping view of valley, hills and tiny city: Glenties, County Donegal, which in a manner is a curious selection for Friel’s last resting place. It isn’t the place he was born, in 1929; that was Omagh, throughout the close by border with Northern Eire. It isn’t the place he died, in 2015; that was Greencastle, fairly a bit farther north in County Donegal, on the ocean.
However it’s, arguably, a spot he spent a number of time in his head. Glenties (population 927 in 2022) is his mom’s hometown, the place he would go throughout childhood summers. Not a son of the city however a grandson, he turned, because the New York Occasions critic Mel Gussow asserted in a 1991 profile, “a author on a degree with Sean O’Casey and John Millington Synge,” two of probably the most esteemed Irish playwrights within the canon.
What declare to fame Glenties has, and what brush with Hollywood, is due to Friel. In his writing, he reworked it into a spot known as Ballybeg: the positioning of lots of his performs, together with probably the most well-known, “Dancing at Lughnasa” (1990), which is impressed by his mom and aunts, and devoted “In reminiscence of these 5 courageous Glenties ladies.”
Off Broadway this season, Irish Repertory Theater’s Friel Project will revive three of his Ballybeg performs, beginning with “Translations” (1980), a couple of Nineteenth-century British colonialist challenge to Anglicize Eire, directed by the Tony Award winner Doug Hughes and working by means of Dec. 3. It is going to be adopted in January by “Aristocrats” (1979), set amid a once-grand Catholic household in Chekhovian decline, directed by Charlotte Moore, Irish Rep’s creative director; and in March by “Philadelphia, Right here I Come!” (1964), wherein a younger man prepares to depart Ballybeg for the USA, directed by Ciaran O’Reilly, Irish Rep’s producing director.
After Friel died, the critic Michael Billington called him “the best Irish dramatist of his technology,” citing a physique of labor that examined “exile and emigration, the political Troubles of Northern Eire [and] the subjective nature of reminiscence.” All of it, he pronounced, was “sure collectively by his ardour for language, his perception within the ritualistic nature of theater and his breadth of understanding.”
In a telephone interview, O’Reilly mentioned that “if there was such a factor as a poet laureate of the Irish Rep, it might be Brian Friel”: an intellectually curious, deeply empathetic playwright who probed the make-up of Irish identification. As profoundly as Friel fathomed small-town Irish life, he additionally acknowledged the urge to flee it — or in O’Reilly’s phrases: “Let me get the hell out.”
“In so lots of his performs, it’s concerning the departure from it and the necessity to break past it,” mentioned O’Reilly, who was 19 when he left his hometown, even tinier than Glenties, in County Cavan.
After all, the true Ballybeg — whose title in Irish, Baile Beag, means “small city” — exists solely in Friel’s performs. Nonetheless, you’ll be able to hear echoes of Glenties in these performs, and echoes of these performs in Glenties.
And when you go there on the lookout for him, as I did in late September, you can find him — even when the publish workplace the place his mom is claimed to have labored is lengthy gone, succeeded by a department tucked effectively contained in the Costcutter grocery store, on an unbusy Foremost Avenue pocked with vacant storefronts.
I stayed in a bed-and-breakfast at one finish of the street, close to the electrical car charging level that communicates loud and clear that Glenties is a Twenty first-century city. On the different is a resort whose web site commemorates the event, 25 years in the past, when Meryl Streep, star of the movie adaptation of “Dancing at Lughnasa,” slept there “on the evening of the native premiere.” In between, a inventive arts heart and a present store each have Lughnasa — “the feast day of the pagan god, Lugh,” because the narrator of Friel’s play explains, and a harvest competition — of their names.
With a dozen Broadway productions in his lifetime, most of them Ballybeg performs (together with “Religion Healer,” from 1979, wherein a pivotal, sinister occasion happens on the outskirts of city), Friel was not given to sentimentalizing rusticity.
However outsiders tend in that course, as a Ballybeg lady says in Friel’s comedy “The Communication Wire” (1982): “You know how strangers get queer notions about a spot like this; and foreigners is the worst.”
But when a customer remarks, in “Give Me Your Reply, Do!” (1997), “The view up that valley is breathtaking,” he might simply be speaking about Glenties, whose title in Irish, Na Gleannta, means “the glens.”
The city has beautiful vistas of the Blue Stack Mountains that hem it in — and make driving there from Dublin, as I did, an journey, fraught with the danger of toppling off some slender, winding street right into a patch of attractive surroundings.
FOR MORE THAN 50 YEARS, beginning within the Nineties, a railway stopped in Glenties. I realized that at St. Connell’s Museum, a homely repository of space historical past simply across the nook from Foremost Avenue. Its assortment of Friel materials tends towards information clippings (extra Meryl) and previous present posters (just like the one which informs you that each Liam Neeson and Stephen Rea had been within the unique solid of “Translations,” in Derry).
There’s additionally the textual content of a cheeky piece that Friel wrote for The Irish Occasions in 1959, ribbing Glenties for its second consecutive win of the nationwide Tidy Cities contest. “My mom’s folks had been MacLoones,” he notes, wryly claiming “direct descent” from that “mecca of tidiness.”
The cottage the place the household lived, the house of the impecunious sisters who impressed “Dancing at Lughnasa,” is in Glenties — near the place the railway station was, the place Friel’s grandfather had been the station grasp. The Brian Friel Belief, which reportedly has plans for a cultural heart elsewhere on the town, owns the home.
From the street, the trail to the previous household house passes underneath a low cover of branches. Then, in a clearing, there it’s, trying dirty and forlorn, with moss-carpeted stairs and a gold-lettered plaque beside the door. “‘The Laurels,’” it says, which is the home’s title. “Unveiled by Brian Friel, Meryl Streep and Sophie Thompson. twenty fourth September 1998.”
And that is the place the smooth glow of “Dancing at Lughnasa,” a reminiscence play set in imaginary Ballybeg in 1936, collides arduous with a actuality that’s too earthbound, too bleak, too untouched by poetry. But additionally — perhaps due to the plaque, and the gloom — extra like an exhibit than a remnant of historical past.
“Translations” (wherein, considerably mind-bendingly, a personality from Ballybeg mentions Glenties in dialog) takes place a century earlier, in 1833, because the British are mapping all of Eire and rewriting each Irish place title into English. It’s greater than a decade earlier than the Nice Famine, however jobs are scarce — a theme that runs by means of Friel’s performs — and a worry of blighted crops is making some locals nervous.
“Candy God,” one other scoffs in response, “did the potatoes ever fail in Baile Beag? Effectively, did they ever — ever? By no means!”
If you happen to go just by the signal on Foremost Avenue in Glenties, with its arrow pointing vaguely north, you’ll by no means discover the city’s famine graveyard. If you happen to seek the advice of Google Maps, it should let you know that the place is “briefly closed.” Not so.
After I pulled up behind the group of homes the place my GPS mentioned it was, a person in a purple sweater immediately emerged to search out out why I used to be there. Then he moved a steel barricade away from the graveyard entrance — “It’s only a makeshift factor,” he mentioned — and let me in. The intense inexperienced grass was so smooth underneath my ft that I mentioned so, and the person mentioned it in all probability ought to have been farmland all these years in the past. Down the hill, sheep had been grazing.
The graveyard has solely a single marker, inscribed in Irish: a Twentieth-century monument to the lifeless buried there starting in 1846. That’s the 12 months after the failure of potato crops began the Nice Famine, making poverty a scourge in rural Eire. Illness unfold among the many determined poor on the Glenties workhouse. Inmates who perished had been interred out again.
A lot covered-over distress, such an alluringly pastoral setting: This felt like Friel to me.
I bought again within the automotive and headed to the Atlantic Ocean, about eight miles away, the place the island of Inishkeel and its medieval monastic ruins lie not far throughout the water from Narin/Portnoo Seaside. At low tide, you’ll be able to stroll to it on an uncovered sandbar, however you’ll need to maintain cautious watch of the time when you don’t wish to get trapped there, and heed an indication, mounted to a gate on the island, that warns, surreally: “Watch out for the bull.” (I noticed no bull.)
There’s a wildness and a timelessness to Inishkeel. A rugged desolation, too, regardless that all it’s important to do is face the far shore to see the homes on the mainland, and wind generators spinning within the hills past: a side-by-side coexistence of the eerie historic and the unsettled now that could be very Friel.
Glenties doesn’t have a shoreline, however Ballybeg does, with not less than one island off it: in “The Light Island” (1971), known as Inishkeen; in “Fantastic Tennessee” (1993), known as Oilean Draiochta, which is translated within the play as Island of Thriller. Neither island is tidal like Inishkeel — you want a ship to get to them — however every shares a little bit of the real island’s past.
In these performs, Friel faucets into the primal, the mythic, the non secular. And perhaps it was simply the grey and chill the day I used to be there, and the tiny needles of rain that stung my face. However on that marvelous, rock-strewn island, all of these forces appeared solely conjurable — someplace off stunning Ballybeg, County Donegal.