Attic Revival in Galway

Sold out: Hughes' Druid Debut 

‘Dora’ by Shane Daly Hughes received a standing ovation on its Druid Theatre debut in Galway on 11 November 2010. The Deptford Croppy ventured out of his 'Sarf London’ comfort zone to try his hand at theatre criticism and found himself strangely moved and exalted...

Let’s have it right my brethren, The Rusty Wire Service isn’t exactly known as an arbiter of aesthetics. It’s rare that the Deptford Croppy forays ‘Up West’ to the theatre. We’re definitely more ‘pie n mash’ than 'Yo Sushi' down here in SE8.

But before you write us off as proles and Philistines; we might remind you that life’s rich and tragi-comic pageant plays itself out daily on Deptford High Street so The Rusty Wire Service isn’t exactly a stranger to dramas.

And dramas of course are timeless and ageless; from Thespis of Icaria to Beckett of Dublin, the song has always remained the same.


On a stormy night in November, The Galway University Players’ production of Dora was both classical and completely experimental. From misty, marble-halled antiquity comes a story of a type that, two and half millennia later, resonates as strongly as ever.

This particular tragedy wouldn’t have looked out of place 2,000 years ago on the playbill of an Athenian amphitheatre and given the themes, I suspect the same would probably apply on a two millennium flip fast-forward.

But then, Greek tragedy has never really lost its power to shock: incest and infanticide in plays like Sophcles’ Oedipus cycle and Medea by Euripedes unsettle, appal and fascinate us just as they did our Attic forbears. 

Dora opens with a blind seer Teirea setting the scene in language that is both brimming with ancient cadences and vibrant contemporary argot. Helen of Troy, we are told wasn’t seduced by a Trojan playboy, rather: “Helen was abducted, and then she was fucked…It is as brutal and as simple as that. Abducted, and then fucked.”

Michael Faherty’s seer is a compelling figure on stage: Think mid-period Oliver Reed in big shades and a summer dress with lots of badly applied lippy and then you’re in the ball-park. I don’t mind telling you that his lascivious pink tongue peeping obscenely from between rouged lips and bushy beard is an image that will stay with me for some time....

Dora, he tells us, is the daughter of Helen of Troy and Theseus the demi-god; “Sweet Iphidora, born of sacred rape” and doomed to be a virgin sacrifice. Her stepfather Menelaus, his brother Agamemnon  and Odysseus the king of Ithaca conspire with the priesthood to sacrifice the maiden daughter of Helen, a priestess of the moon: “To regain a moon, one must slay a moon.”

Dora’s arrival from the world of mortals is eagerly awaited by a deity (Day), both depraved and absurd. Actor Neil Baréid’s Day is preening and self-regarding by turns; prone to blazing tantrums and Tourette’s like outbursts.

His appetites are violent and sadistic and Dora’s entrance marks the beginning of a battle where nothing less than the complete subjugation of another’s will is the intended goal.

And that starts out as a very uneven contest. Elish McCarthy brings an aching fragility and stillness to Dora’s first entrance into the realm of Day.

The God’s tactics of domination take many forms: officious Kafkaesque bureaucracy; “My authority requires a constant reminder. A ritual.” A sadistic and sinister relish in the revealing of his violations and plotting : “I am your grandfather. But I want to be so much more. Isn’t that wonderful?...Say yes.” And then there are the rages where he wields his rattle of power like a big petulant but omnipotent baby.

Dora‘s frail and willowy form is held centre stage throughout, suffering the violent language, offering resistance but slowly giving in to the violent will of her interrogator. He offers her ‘completion’ but in return she must submit to his sado-sexual whims and she finally relents.

His domination complete, Day closes the first act as he departs to ravish the conquered Dora with a bravura chest thump and a bellow of “Mine!”

Dora’s transformation in the second act is much more than a costume change. She is now more worldly and her wisdom makes her openly contemptuous of her venal violator. It’s clear that Day’s attempt to debase Dora has given her power over her captor in the form of his wife’s name.

Dora compels Day to teach her how to wield the power that comes with ‘completion’; the power over the lives and deaths of mortals. And of course, this being a tragedy, I don’t think I’d be spoiling it for anyone if I said that therein are sown the seeds of her downfall.

Even seasoned theatre-goers will not have seen a work like this. From the elegance of the lighting and production values to the craft of the acting, this is an assured and polished production. Parenthetically, the Druid’s decision to stage Dora is a statement of the playhouse’s intent to maintain its worldwide reputation for bold new projects.

The undoubted scholarship of the writing is never elitist and that in itself is no mean feat. If anything, it seeks to democratise and even ennoble the spectator by showing that, high concept art or not, Dora is accessible on many levels. Or put another way, you come out of the theatre feeling enlightened as opposed to baffled.


Classical purists might complain that there is no place for comedy in tragedy but what do they know? This play is shot through with occasional flashes of dark, mercurial wit, visual jokes and even the occasional knowing nod to popular culture. The humour is nevertheless applied with a deft and sparing touch, both in the writing and the delivery.

Themes such as male domination, sexual and mental cruelty and even the ancient power struggle for control of priesthood (or, if you like, control of the hotline to divinity), remain as cogent today as ever. The likelihood is however that none of this would matter if the storytelling wasn't fit for purpose.

The audience is invited, on a minimalist stage, to make fantastic leaps of imagination; to watch the battles of mortals being played out like a real-time strategy game; to create for themselves the shocking images of bestial couplings and ritual sacrifice. And in this performance, the audience were willing accomplices and dare I say it, more ‘complete’ for the experience.

The Rusty Wire Service looks forward to Mr Daly-Hughes taking the show on the road.