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Arts

A Director’s View of “Woman and Scarecrow”

woman and scarecrowA woman lies on her deathbed, time ticking away, the end imminent. As she comes face to face with her mortality, she nurses regrets, mourns missed opportunities and contemplates the nature of her complicated marriage to a unfaithful husband. She is accompanied on her final journey by a friend, unseen to others, who is both comforter and critic.

Like most quick summaries of a complex piece of art, this bit of shorthand doesn’t do justice to Irish playwright Marina Carr’s ultimately redemptive “Woman and Scarecrow,” on tap for Villanova University’s Vasey Theatre November 8 through 20. “Woman and Scarecrow” has been described by reviewers as “spirited,” “biting,” “poetic” and “fierce and funny.”

(Hey, it’s Irish. It’s about death. Of course there are laughs.)

The play is not the first visible evidence of a unique new educational exchange program between Villanova’s well-known Irish Studies department and the Abbey Theatre, the national theatre of Ireland, but it might boast the highest profile. Described as “an historic intellectual/artistic partnership,” the new exchange program will expose Villanova students and outside audiences to renowned Irish actors, directors and writers; at the same time, Villanova students will travel to Dublin to study and work with the Abbey Theatre.

Directing “Woman and Scarecrow” is actor-friar Father David Cregan, O.S.A., associate professor and chair of the theatre department.

We talked to him about the play and the new relationship with the Abbey Theatre.

Question: Tell me about this play. What is it about to you and why do you like it?

Answer: “Woman and Scarecrow” has all the best qualities of an Irish play. It has a powerful story, it’s written with a kind of poetic prose that is indicative of the Irish dramatic tradition, and it also balances the comic and the tragic elements of the human existence in quite an epic way. That makes it a shining example of Irish theatre. The ability to both laugh and cry and to celebrate and mourn simultaneously—that’s part of the Irish aesthetic in general.

The play was attractive to me because of the epic way in which it deals with the really important questions of life and death. It allows the audience to enjoy a powerful story that simultaneously has a prophetic message about how to live life to its fullest, how to value oneself and how to live in the right relationship with the world. It tells the story through a series of tragedies and triumphs, through a series of failures and accomplishments in the life of Woman. But the play also has a sort of transnational quality in the way that it speaks to the human condition. It’s not only the Irish condition. It allows us to witness the last moments of this woman’s life as she tries to reconcile herself with her choices and deals with the repercussions of her mistakes.

Question: You’re an actor-director, but you’re also a priest. How do you look upon this play from the priest’s perspective?

Answer: It confirms something that both religion and theater share in common. If you’re familiar with the Roman Catholic creed, the line in the creed that really calls out to me is this one: “We believe in the seen and the unseen.” This play, while it tells a very specific story, has a kind of global outreach in the sense that it articulates both the seen and unseen qualities of what it means to be a human being, and it really connects the spiritual and the material in the way that it builds the relationship between Woman and the Scarecrow. The question in the play is, who or what is Scarecrow? Scarecrow appears on the stage for the entire production, and is physically and metaphysically connected with Woman, but she’s another element of her. The other characters in the play, when they come into the room, don’t see or acknowledge that Scarecrow is there. It’s kind of an embodiment of the spiritual component of the human condition. Scarecrow is not just her conscience, not editing or condemning her for a licentious lifestyle, but is pointing out to her that the mistake she made was in not valuing her life in the way that she should have; that her mistakes were that she didn’t treat herself well. [In this way, Scarecrow] helps woman cross from the world of the living into death. Those are the kinds of things they talk about the whole play. The play has an acknowledgement of the ethereal—or as I would describe it, of the spiritual—that definitely connects with my larger worldview of spiritual responsibility.

Question: Did Villanova’s theatre department choose this play, or was it a more collaborative decision with Abbey Theatre? And what role did the Irish Studies department play?

Answer: When the relationship with the Abbey Theatre began to materialize, we started to think of ways of making a connection. “Woman and Scarecrow” was a natural fit for me because my research and my writing is all in the area of contemporary Irish drama. I was interested in the potential and the power of the play. So many of the themes in the play are important Irish themes about returning home, and in particular returning to the West of Ireland and its curative and humane qualities. They speak of homecoming. Homecoming is not just about the connection to place or earth; it’s also a kind of spiritual reckoning.

Question: Marina Carr was a Heimbold professor at Villanova in 2003. Did that have anything to do with the choice of this play?

Answer: We’ve been connected with her work; we’ve produced it before. She was a friend of the department. This particular piece of work in my opinion is a triumph in her writing, a high point in her career, even though it’s a relatively small play.

Question: You’re an Irish fella. What’s appealing to you about doing Irish Theatre.

Answer: What I love about the Irish theatre is its courage, the exploration of deep emotion, and its interest in the journey of the soul and of the mind. This play contains all of that. It’s an actor’s dream come true because of the breadth of its emotional expression, and it’s a director’s dream come true because the script is so beautifully and poetically written. It really exhibits a kind of emotional complexity that is part of Irish artistic expression, a kind of courage to look at the harder, darker things. That’s one of the things I love about Irish plays—it’s the deep feeling at the center of it all.

  • irishphiladelphia.com readers get a 50 percent discount on tickets. Click on the Direct Ticketing Link or call the ticket office at 610-519-7474 and use the code IRISHPHILLY.
Arts

Inis Nua Theatre Company Nominated for 3 Barrymore Awards

Members of the "Dublin by Lamplight" cast. Photo by Katie Reing

The Inis Nua Theatre Company has received three nominations for the 2011 Barrymore Awards for Excellence in Theatre from the Theatre Alliance of Greater Philadelphia, all for its production of “Dublin By Lamplight,” a play by Irish playwright Michael West.

Nominated are the cast of “Dublin by Lamplight,” which has spent nearly a month in New York as part of the New York Irish Theater Festival, for “outstanding ensemble in a play,” as well as Charlie DelMarcelle for outstanding lead actor in a play, and John Lionarons for the Clear Sound Award for outstanding sound design and original music.

Inis Nua Theatre Company presents contemporary plays from Ireland and the UK.

“Dublin by Lamplight” wasn’t the only Irish play recognized by the Theatre Alliance. Theatre Exile’s production of the Martin McDonagh play, “The Lieutenant of Inishmore,” was nominated for five awards including outstanding overall production of a play, outstanding direction, outstanding set design, outstanding choreography/movement, and outstanding supporting actor (Pearse Bunting).

The 17th Annual Barrymore Awards ceremony will take place on Monday, October 3, at the Walnut Street Theatre, 825 Walnut Street, Philadelphia. The evening is black tie optional.

Arts, Dance, Music

A Festival of Videos

Dan Isaacson

Dan Isaacson in concert with his band Simple System.

A lot can happen in three days and nights.

And let’s be honest, we couldn’t be everywhere, my partner Lori Lander Murphy and I.

Or could we …

Looking at the videos we collected at the 2011 Philadelphia Ceili Group Festival, it certainly seems like we must have violated some of the fundamental laws of space and time.

You are traveling through another dimension—a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That’s a signpost up ahead… Your next stop: The Twilight Zone!

OK, so maybe it wasn’t as far out as all that.

But we think it was still cool.

You decide:

Here ‘s this year’s video playlist.

Arts

New Offerings from Inis Nua Theatre Company

A character from "Dublin by Lamplight." Photo by Katie Reing.

The Inis Nua Theatre Company, the only local theater group that produces only contemporary Irish and UK plays, announced its new season of plays and readings this week. The plays include the Philadelphia premier of “Little Gem” by Elaine Murphy which played to sellout crowds at Dublin’s 2008 Fringe Festival and Enda Walsh’s “The Walworth Farce.” Inis Nua has produced Walsh’s play, “Bedbound,” a Fringe Festival first place winner.

Recently, Inis Nua was invited to bring its production of “Dublin by Lamplight” to next month’s New York Irish Theater Festival. (You can help send them there by donating here.) The company is holding an “All-in for Dublin” charity poker tournament on Sunday, August 7, to raise money. It starts at 4 PM at the Latvian Society of Philadelphia at 531 North 7th Street.

Here’s what’s coming up on stage:

Landscape with Weapon by Joe Penhall (From England)
A reading on October 17th at 7pm
A well-meaning engineer has invented a new super-weapon with infinite and wonderful capabilities. That was before issues of financial gain and government control crept into the picture. Landscape with Weapon is a wry account of private anguish, public responsibility and a problem with no solution. By the writer of the award-winning play, Blue/Orange.

The Error of Their Ways by Torben Betts (From Scotland)
A reading on November 28th at 7pm
From a playwright lauded by many as the most exciting new voice in British theatre comes a shattering re-imagining of life as we live it now, set in the context of a bloody revolution. Witness to a brutal political assassination, we are introduced to a society fractured by a lack of belief in anything meaningful, in which everyone has something to protest against.

Random by Debbie Tucker Green (From England)
A reading on January 23rd at 7pm
Random explores a single day in the ordinary life of a black Londoner and the random incident that changes her life and that of her family. Tucker Green’s poetic rhythm and keen details create a spellbinding, elliptical story that shatters stereotypes by humanizing an all-too common inner-city event. Olivier Award winner.
Little Gem by Elaine Murphy. Directed by Kathryn MacMillan (From Ireland)
Philadephia Premiere
January 31-February 19. Location TBA.
This is the Philadelphia premiere of this amazing look into one transitional year in the lives of three generations of a Dublin family. Daughter Amber is taking an unexpected break from binge-drinking with the girls, mother Lorraine is testing the waters of love on the north side of 40; and granny Kay is watching her dear man slip away. Come have a listen. These women will shock, delight, and steal your heart.
Love Steals Us from Loneliness by Gary Owen (From Wales)
A reading on March 19th at 7pm
A drunken evening leads to an argument with repercussions lasting over forty years. This play explores viewpoints and how they change with age. This is playwright Gary Owen’s response to the media frenzy that followed twenty teen suicides in Bridgend from 2007-2010. From the author of Crazy Gary’s Mobile Disco.
Didi’s Big Day by Paul Walker (From Ireland)
A reading on May 21st at 7pm
Didi and Peter have planned a beautiful dream wedding. What could go wrong for such a perfect couple? Missing rings, inappropriate speeches, and bridal party brawls collide in this hilarious story of the wedding from Hell.
The Walworth Farce by Enda Walsh. Directed by Tom Reing (From Ireland)
Philadelphia Premiere
June 12th-June 30th at Christ Church Neighborhood House
What can happen when we become stuck by the stories we tell about our lives? Following on the success of Inis Nua’s production of Bedbound in 2010, visit the world of Enda Walsh again in the rundown London bedsit of a seemingly exiled father and his two sons. Twisting and turning, this farce combines uproarious comedic moments with shocking realism to portray a family absorbed by their own personal mythology

Arts

Help the Inis Nua Theatre Company Get to NYC

Jared Michael Delaney as "Frank and others." Photo by Katie Reing

If they can make it there, they can make it anywhere.

At least that’s what the folks at Philadelphia’s Inis Nua Theatre Company are hoping. But they’re going to need help from you.

More specifically, they’re hoping to take their acclaimed production of “Dublin by Lamplight” to the Big Apple as one of the featured plays in the 1st Irish Theatre Festival, which runs from September 7 to October 4. (See our review. We loved it. Or as we theatre reviewers say: It was “boffo.”)

“Dublin by Lamplight” is booked to run four weeks—24 performances in all— at the prestigious off-Broadway 59E59 Theatre.

Inis Nua, an extremely creative bunch, produces plays from Ireland, England, Scotland and Wales. Their talent has not gone unnoticed, certainly not by local theatre goers. But someone else pretty important also noticed.

“Elysabeth Kleinhans, the artistic director of 59E59, came and saw the show (Dublin by Lamplight) during its last week,” says Tom Reing, Inis Nua’s founder and artistic director. 59E59 is one of the participating venues. “That’s when she offered us a slot. I think she had an idea we were interested in doing this, but I had no idea she was coming. She e-mailed me the day before. The last time we were in New York, we were in an off-off-Broadway house, but 59E59 is much more of a destination point for people.”

All pretty exciting. But before they get to New York City, the theatre company needs a little traveling money—$40,000 to be exact, of which they have raised $26,000. Moving the play to New York for an extended run is a costly proposition, involving everything from travel and housing costs for the cast and crew to piano rental.

What’s more, they need it no later than September 1. Inis Nua continues to raise larger amounts through some of the traditional non-profits, but just important are the smaller-scale grassroots efforts.

“We’re doing a multi-pronged way of raising money,” says Reing. “We’ll also be doing things like happy hours and other events. We’re basically taking a leap of faith that our supporters will help us out and we’ll be able to do this. It’s such a great opportunity.”

Reing is especially eager to present this particular play. “It’s one of the reasons I started this company,” he says. “When I first saw this play in Dublin in 2002, I was blown away by it. I would love to have directed it, but I didn’t have the money at the time. This past spring, I had the money to do it justice.”

You can help Inis Nua do the play justice in New York City. Navigate on over to the Kickstarter Web site to make a pledge. The company is attempting to raise $5,000 on Kickstarter, which bills itself as “a new way to fund and follow creativity,” of which $2,470 has been pledged as of today.

It’s easy to make a pledge, and it’s all in an extremely worthy cause. Please pledge today.

Arts, People

Catherine Barry & Charlie: The Dublin Author Pens Her Story of Recovery

 

Catherine Barry's new memoir, "Charlie & Me"

All of us have our demons, but few of us ever can, or do, write about them as honestly and eloquently as Catherine Barry has in her new memoir titled “Charlie & Me.” 

The writer, Dublin born and bred, has three well-received novels to her name: “The House that Jack Built (2001),” “Null and Void (2002)” and “Skin Deep (2004),” as well as a place on the fund advisory board of the Dove Self-Esteem Awareness campaign.  But for her latest book, Barry is mining her own life, and turning the focus to her fierce battle with recovery from alcoholism.

“There’s a saying,” Barry told me by phone from her home in Dublin. “It’s called a ‘dry drunk.’  It’s when someone stops drinking, but they still have the disease.  In the beginning, you’re just so thrilled to not be drinking, it’s a honeymoon period. But then, you start having to deal with the issues underneath, what made you drink in the first place.”

Barry began her recovery in 1993, on an April night when she made her way to her first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.  She had finally said the words to herself, and out loud to her physician, “I think I might have a bit of a drinking problem.”  Still, she had already turned around to leave the meeting before it began when she felt a staying hand on her shoulder.  Charlie Gallagher, who would become her sponsor, her mentor, her lifeline, her savior, and her title character, had found her. And with a smile and the words “Welcome home, Cathy,” he led her back inside.

The decision to begin her story on the first day of her journey to recovery was deliberate; Barry realized that many of the books on the topic of alcoholism start with the destructive road to the bottom, and end at the point where the person decides to seek help. But for Barry, and for everyone facing recovery, that’s where the real fight begins.

“I literally woke up in the middle of the night with the idea for ‘Charlie & Me.’  I was in the middle of writing another book at the time, when I realized that this was what I was meant to be writing.  I knew I was onto something, I just felt that with this book.  I’m on a mission now to just tell the truth because it needs to be told. I don’t think I would have made it through the first year without Charlie.”

At the time, Barry was the unemployed mother of two small children, and was in the process of removing herself from an abusive marriage: “I had no job, no money, I was in an insane marriage.”  She was at her rock bottom.

Charlie, as Barry writes about him with undying love and affection, is a character quite unlike any other.  He had to begin their relationship by explaining what a sponsor was, by telling Barry that he would “simply pass on the tools of recovery as they had been passed on to him twenty-five years earlier.”  He would help her get, and stay, sober.

He was a man who had equal parts passion for coaxing dilapidated old cars to run for him, for collecting junk that he masqueraded as antiques, for chain-smoking rolled up tobacco cigarettes, for dressing up dapper in suits of many colors and hats of many feathers and for warbling Sinatra tunes off-key. “He wasn’t a saint,” Barry told me, but as she writes in her book, Charlie “imparted his wisdom, warmth and sense of humour to me…His attitude towards life gave me a blueprint—an instruction book on decent living, if you like.”

“The funny thing, I suppose,” Barry laughed, “is that we were a bit like the blind leading the blind. Two sick people trying to help each other, like the patients themselves healing each other.  It was a strange paradox that I still don’t fully understand.”

It was Charlie who encouraged Barry to begin really using her writing talent. “I was always writing as a child, always writing diaries. I fell in love with the smell, the ambiance of libraries. I would write short stories and poems…and then put them in the drawer. “

But there was one poem of Barry’s that a friend had had written up and framed for her. Charlie noticed it hanging on the wall one evening, and commented, “God, that’s brilliant…Do you know who wrote it?”  When Barry replied that she was the author, Charlie wouldn’t let her off the hook until she’d shown him what else she’d written. He made her type out the poems, and begin the submission process.

“We writers, we’re always the last people to see it in ourselves.  I’m always looking for validation from the outside world. I used to pester other authors and say ‘Am I a writer?’ You have to acknowledge it yourself.”

Writing “The House that Jack Built” came about as a bit of a dare, when someone said to Barry, “You know, you could write a book.” She could barely conceive of it, but she persevered.

“The day I got the check for the advance on the first book, I brought the check to the bank and then kept waiting for them to ring me and tell me that it had bounced.  It’s almost like a passion for self-destruction that an alcoholic has…practicing forgiveness is something you have to do up until the day you die.”

Barry is unstinting in her honesty as she recounts the darkest days of her early recovery.  One chapter in particular recounts her obsession with a boyfriend who had his own issues of addiction.

“A lot of people have spoken to me about that chapter. It’s struck a nerve with many people.  It’s the mentality of ‘Now I’ve stopped drinking…what other things can I use to distract myself from the pain that started the drinking in the first place.’ I wanted to fix this man; I’d spent my life trying to fix other people. There was a hole in me that I wanted to fill, and it’s just the same old thing. It’s what I see addiction is, trying to find a way to cope with the pain.”

“And while I’m saying this,” Barry laughed. “I still haven’t figured it all out.  Insanity—the definition is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.”

“I just say, ‘Go for progress and not perfection.’”

Barry’s mission to “just tell the truth” has produced a beautiful, poignant, funny, devastating memoir. Even seeing the end coming, I have to say I sobbed as I finished the book. Her personal triumph is that she continues her recovery, one day at a time, and that she has shared her story with the world. Based around her fight for sobriety and stability, it’s a narrative that will resonate with anyone battling any kind of demons.  Although I daresay readers will wish they had their own Charlie by their side for the rumble.

“Charlie said it to me, that I can’t stop from touching the flame, and he was right. That’s the way I am. But I found a higher power and I still continue to rely on that higher power today. Forgiveness is a process.”

Charlie always told Barry that “the writing will cure you” and she has never felt that more strongly than with this book. “I feel like it’s saving my life all over again. This is the road I want to be on…I’ve found my voice now.”

“Charlie & Me” can be ordered online through www.amazon.uk and www.easons.com. And check out Catherine Barry’s facebook page at: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Catherine-Barry/230954423587434#!/pages/Catherine-Barry/230954423587434

Arts

Shining a Bright Light on an Ancient Irish Martial Art

John Hurley with son Liam

John Hurley with son Liam

Irish history means everything to John W. Hurley.

It starts with his family. His grandfather William Hurley was from a coastal town called Ballyheigue in County Kerry. Young William fought in the British army in World War I, then with the Irish Republican Army in the war of independence, and later on the side of those who were opposed to the 1921 Anglo-Irish Treaty.

That turned out to be the losing side, and so William packed up his family (including then 24-month-old Michael J., John’s dad) and moved to Jersey City.

Like many emigrants, the Hurleys assimilated—but they never forgot where they came from, and they made sure they passed on their Irish pride to their children and grandchildren.

“My dad really valued his heritage and his culture and tried to instill that pride in us,” says the soft-spoken Hurley, a graphic artist from Pipersville, now back in college and hoping to one day teach high school social studies.

Clearly, something must have penetrated, and pretty deeply at that. Although he’s only an amateur historian, John W. Hurley has managed to make himself into a passionate expert in a very obscure yet fascinating subject: the history of shillelagh.

Most people think of this iconic symbol of old Ireland as a walking stick. But Hurley knows what it really is: a weapon.

He started to come by this knowledge early in life, mostly by making some chance connections.

For a start, he recalls hearing his grandmother speak Irish. Like a lot of kids, he paid little attention to what the grown-ups were doing. And then, one day, when he was in high school (Essex Catholic, taught by the Christian Brothers), “it dawned on me that there was an Irish language, separate from the English language. it was an epiphany, and I wondered what else about Irish culture I was missing.”

Around the same time, he and his family went to the Irish festival in Holmdel, N.J., and he found a book of stories by the little-known Irish novelist William Carleton. In one of the stories, there was an account of a “stick fight.”

“I was a kid who watched a lot of kung fu movies,” Hurley says. “In this scene, two guys are fighting, and one guy moves in close and flips the other guy over his shoulder. I thought to myself: This is like kung fu. That made me realize that there was more to stick fighting than barroom brawling.”

Indeed, fighting with the shillelagh proved to be Ireland’s own martial art. Once Hurley made that connection, he became obsessed with the idea. He wanted to know more.
He went on to attend the University of Dayton for a degree in commercial design, and then, in 1975, he went to Ireland to spend time with family. While there, he found a 1975 book, The Irish Faction Fighters of the 19th Century, by Patrick O’Donnell. It provided more detail on stick fighting, and by then it clear to Hurley that that battling with a shillelagh was not just about two hard-headed Irishmen frantically whaling away at each other. There was a formal discipline and an art to stick fighting, passed down from father to son, together with an elaborate set of unspoken rules—shillelagh law—for how a fight must be conducted.

It was Hurley’s father Michael who urged him to follow his passion.

“I was talking to my dad about it (stick fighting) one day,” says Hurley. He was the one who suggested I should write a book about it. I had always wanted him to write. He really was like an old fashion seanchie (the Irish word for story-teller). He was a really good guy with an outgoing personality. The problem was, he didn’t have the patience to sit down and write. But I was a lot more introverted.”

So the more reserved son began a project that would drag on for years, through marriage, kids, jobs, layoffs and all the other joys and challenges of adult life. Right from the start, Hurley knew he had his work cut out for him.

“When I was a kid, I knew what a shillelagh was. Everyone knew what a shillelagh was. It was iconic, like a harp. I also knew that not a lot of people realized it (fighting with a shillelagh) had been a martial art. I knew it would be hard to convince them. So I really wanted to make it a good book, to provide evidence that it was for real.”

Hurley spent countless hours tracking down every bit of documentation he could find, piling up copious notes.

Around 1994, he was reading a kung fu magazine–that interested had never faded away–and he discovered a story about a stick fighter in Canada by the name of Glen Doyle, who had learned the art from his father.

Hurley wrote to him, and for a while they corresponded, but not much came of it.

Then a few years later, Hurley again found information about Doyle, this time on the web–and now Doyle was actively teaching his family’s stick fighting method. At this point, Hurley was a able nail down even more detailed information.

Finally, after years of fact-gathering, Hurley wrote his book, “Shillelagh: The Irish Fighting Stick.” Self-published in 2007, it is Hurley’s densely documented, 370-page homage to a forgotten Irish art. It is dedicated to his father, who, by all accounts, was proud. (Michael Hurley died in November 2010.)

Hurley’s book is not exactly sailing off the shelves, but ultimately, it’s not whether the book becomes a best-seller. It’s that the book exists at all.

“I just thought I always wanted to do something like this, almost in a patriotic way,” he says. I wanted to contribute something to Irish culture somehow. No one else was interested. It seemed the one thing I could do.”

Arts, History

Colin Quinn Makes a “Long Story Short”

Colin Quinn in "Long Story Short"

Colin Quinn, you are funny.

I already knew that, but I had it reconfirmed for me on the opening night of Quinn’s one man show, “Long Story Short,” at the Suzanne Roberts Theatre on Broad Street. Fresh from Broadway, and making its Philadelphia debut, this 75 minute tour-de-farce of history bites where it’s supposed to and makes short work of some of history’s biggest moments.

And keeps the audience laughing throughout the entirety of the evening.

Quinn’s point, made with his trademark raspy-voiced rat-a-tat delivery, is that in all the years humanity has been evolving, we haven’t changed all that much: “With all the progress, where’s the progress?” he asks early in the show.

He points out that “our ancestors weren’t the ones who starved to death waiting their turn in line for food.”  In other words, survival of the fittest doesn’t mean survival of the nicest.

Directed by Jerry Seinfeld (I looked all around the theater in the hopes that he is a hands-on director who was perhaps directing from the seat next to me; no luck), the show’s style of humor reflects the sensibility of the man best known for his show about nothing. This time, however, he’s steering a show about all things universal.

No history stone is left unturned: politics, philosophy, psychology, arts & literature. Quinn touches on all of them. And the points he makes are the kind that have you going, “Oh, yeah…” Like his take on democracy, for instance:

“It’s sad. Marxism didn’t work. Communism didn’t work. Capitalism doesn’t work.  Nothing works. Even democracy doesn’t work. Democracy—the greatest form of government and we have two choices for who’s our leader. In fascism you only have one choice. That’s great. We have one more choice than the worst form of government.”

It’s sageness like this that keeps the audience holding fast for the next pithy piece of insight wrapped in humor to be delivered by the craggy-faced man pacing the stage.  It’s actually a bit like sitting around with a funny friend, the one who minored in history and knows how to draw the connections between the follies of early civilizations and our own modern messed-up universe.

As Quinn makes perfectly clear, we have always been searching for the truth of our existence, or as he puts it: “Don’t judge me by what I do…judge me by what I’m telling you when I’m doing the opposite.”

“Long Story Short” is here in town through July 10th, and it’s worth an evening of your time.  For more information, check out The Philadelphia Theatre Company’s website: http://philadelphiatheatrecompany.org/events/LSS.html