Tip Sheetby Cahir O'Doherty
- Making the leap from radio to stage, Beckett’s “All That Fall” is a delight
- Peter Quinn's new book 'Dry Bones' asks hard questions
- Eamon Morrisey’s “Maeve’s House” not too open
- The birth of a nation at the Rep, “Juno and the Peacock”
- Simple Minds, the other great Celtic band, play New York this week (VIDEOS)
By Samuel Beckett
59E59 Theaters, New York
Five minutes into the production of Samuel Beckett’s All That Fall now playing at 59East59 Theaters in New York, I realized with some exhilaration that I was watching one of the greatest Irish plays I have ever seen.
It can be a murky business, living, and no one knows it better than Fintan Dunne, Peter Quinn’s incomparable Irish American detective.
In Dry Bones, the third and easily the finest part of the trilogy Quinn started with The Hour of the Cat, the author has crafted a cinematic spy tale that is crying out for the big screen (and may in fact appear there).
Written and performed by Eamon Morrissey
The Ireland that Irish writer Maeve Brennan left behind never really left her. No one knew this better than she did. In later years in New York she referred to herself as a “traveler in residence,” a nod to the fact that although she’d journeyed far from her first home in Ranelagh, South Dublin, it had already shaped her outlook and interior life.