Writer: Carol Murphy
You hear a description about a play that features a cannibal nun on the rampage in 19th century famine stricken Ireland, what do you think? It calls to mind a 1970s schlocky horror show, gratuitous and hyped. Carol Murphy’s one-person show manages to be almost everything you’d imagine, but more. Not only do we get the character of Maggie (the aforementioned nun), but we get a taste of her wild life in an era where history focuses on the collective, not individual story, and a roll around localised language and identity as well.
Murphy, performer as well as creator, enters the stage screaming in a robe with a swagger like a prize fighter, pugilistic and combative. We hit high speed from there, a pace that continues until the more reflective and ruminative ending. Pacing and prowling through the story and on the stage, she blasts through Maggie’s life during the blight famine of the 1840s as a runaway bride, a nun, a vigilante killing priests and British soldiers (eating bits of them when she likes), a brief spell in America and her murder of a landowner from whom she steals a pile of diamonds.
Her story is entertaining in the same way a particularly gruesome true-crime podcast is. Made all the more so from the reminders we get from Maggie of the context. This is all set against the deaths of millions who starved in their houses, on the roadsides and siocs, and in workhouses across the country. Maggie sees this, and combines the anger she feels at her own family’s betrayal and abuse with the rage she feels for the “colonisers” in her country into a murderous and cannibalistic campaign. If there’s such a thing today as a fresh take on Irish nationalism, this comes close. Maggie volunteers to eat the colonists so we can all be free.
As the medium for all this, Murphy is entrancing. Her performance comes across as a mix between modern seanchaí, shaman and revivalist preacher with a penchant for pulp horror stories. It has more words per minute than any other show you’re likely to see, leading to an intense and dense hour and a bit. With this pace, it’s all too easy to get lost. If you do, God help you – there’s no slowing down or recapping to catch you up.
A major component of the performance is Murphy’s inhabitation of Maggie’s character, specifically her voice. Her speech is blessed with the rhythms, metre and sounds of Maggie’s Northern Ireland, though stretched and amplified in a way that veers close to exaggeration at times. It’s far removed from the clarity and distinction usually on show on this city’s stages. It’s different, and takes a little getting used to. For some, unquestionably, there will be sections where following it will be a genuine challenge. But so what? Maggies’s story should not change for the listener, it’s hers. It may be hard in sections, but it would be wrong to change one syllable of this exciting intonation.
Through Murphy, Maggies’s story is given a fantastic presentation. But there’s just too little of it. Given the density of the delivery an hour is too long for the content. This story could have been more concise or more could have happened. It’s an odd imbalance – simultaneously packed and sparse. This folk tale is intriguing, engaging and educational but meanders a little and despite the charismatic energy of the performer runs out of steam quite a bit before the end.
Runs until 5 February 2023
The Reviews Hub Score
Intriguing, engaging and educational
