An Octoroon – The Abbey Theatre: Peacock Stage, Dublin

Writer: Branden Jacob-Jenkins

Director: Anthony Simpson-Pike

The production of a play that is informed by Dion Boucicault’s work, featuring a heightened, ridiculous version of the playwright himself, runs every risk of being poorly judged, yet Branden Jacob-Jenkins’ work, with its biting satire, incessant humour, and deep, dark social commentary serves to honour the Dublin playwright and actor’s legacy. This reimagining of his The Octoroon is simultaneously a witty dissection of the 19^th century melodrama form which made Boucicault famous, and a stunning analysis of contemporary racial politics in the US and abroad.

That is not to suggest, though, that this is an easy watch – complete with a very deliberate content warning, this show is explicitly and undeniably provocative, reflecting the urgency of its subject matter. Beginning with an unnamed African-American Playwright (Patrick Martins) who describes his process for imagining and devising this work, he is soon joined by Rory Nolan portraying a fictional Boucicault, as they both delve into the specifics of 19^th century melodramatic theatre. Nolan is very much a stage Irish caricature, and this sets the scene for the rest of the piece – it serves as a relentless critique of the very form and culture that it depicts.

Martins, as the exterior playwright and then occupying the dual interior roles of the “benevolent” slaveholder George and vaudevillian villain Jacob McCloskey is superb, but then so are the whole cast – Maeve O’Mahony as the Southern Belle in absurd dress whom it is advantageous for him to marry; Jolly Abraham as a variety of stock characters including a perfectly crude Uncle Tom; Umi Myers as the eponymous Zoe; and perhaps most notably, Mara Allen and Leah Walker as Dido and Minerva, who play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to Zoe’s Hamlet. Satin Beige on cello, meanwhile, adds both atmosphere and drama to the piece.

Winding down to an inevitable tragedy, the piece takes a metatheatrical pause and asks the audience – how ridiculous are these melodramatic theatrical conveniences; how vile is this system of racial hatred? As projections of lynchings appear behind the actors and the set, which is at first literally made of cotton bales, is wheeled away, the reality behind the work’s formal critique becomes apparent – as much as the mechanics of melodrama seem ludicrous to us now, the reality of racial hatred and oppression is all too real in both Ireland and the US.

Runs until 14^th May