Writer: Peter Hanly
Director: Lynne Parker
Works about the creative process, and even more so the creatives themselves, tend to be vastly overrated by those who have done the creating, and disliked by the rest of us who have to sit through them. There are brief flickers of dread early in What Are You Afraid Of? that this will be another one of those pieces, but they are merely shadows. The reality is that this is a wonderful piece of theatre; gentle and fun, while also being terrifying and utterly sincere, it manages to bring its audience into the world of the struggling creative, and vice-versa, and so a common space of understanding and empathy is built.
Peter Hanly is the writer and main performer, though he begins in the crowd, harassed onto the stage by an antagonistic stage manager who directs the spotlight to find him. He introduces himself, and explains his fear – 14 years ago, after decades as a working actor, he got inexplicable, sudden, and all-encompassing stage fright, and has been unable to perform since then. Often these performances of watching actors work out their traumas by pretending to work out their traumas onstage don’t ring true – they are far too performative, and it is obvious that the work has already been done. This is never true of Hanly, who is consistently vulnerable, believable, and sympathetic.
Credit must go to director Lynne Parker for not only ensuring that this is never unfocused or self-indulgent, but also allowing the more bizarre and surreal aspects to be credible in the world of the show. These moments are provided by Domhnall Herdman and Niamh McAllister, who play, respectively, a version of Hanly’s grandfather in the guise of a guardian angel, and various characters including a prosecutor and therapist trying to help (or otherwise) Hanly. Herdman is charming and supportive as a turn-of-the-century draper, but there is true melancholy in many of their interactions. McAllister is naturally funny, and relishes the opportunities the differing roles afford her. Her scene as a prosecutor, acting as Hanly’s own subconscious trying to undermine himself, is a highlight.
The core of the work, that elevates it into the highest realms of this year’s Dublin Theatre Festival, is Hanly’s recollection of his parents’ slide into dementia. This is where the walls between performer and audience disappear, and the real human tragedy is glimpsed. It goes unsaid, but Hanly’s fear of forgetting his lines is mirrored and actualised by his parents forgetting each other’s names and their shared memories. It is to Hanly’s credit as a writer and a person that he resisted the urge to hammer this point home. The ending is a beautiful moment that again brings performers and audiences together, and I envy anyone who is due to experience it.
Runs Until 4th Oct 2025.
