When I was at school, we spent some time assessing the works of Irish dramatist Sean O’Casey, specifically his trilogy of classic works (Juno and the Paycock, Shadow of a Gunman, The Plough and the Stars). This play, The Silver Tassie, did not get an Abbey Theatre premiere and was dismissed at the time of writing as a confused mess of stories and scenes, comparing unfavourably with Journey’s End, also set in the Great War.
This National Theatre revival still has a feeling of confusion and doesn’t quite hit the right note of O’Casey’s voice and poetry, but it has moments of greatness, particularly in act two, where a soldier sings of the desolation of war, and in the final moments, where a dance becomes a grotesque and moving comment on the devastation conflict has brought on a small community, not just the town bully who, blinded, becomes the piece’s philosopher, or the football hero who, bitter and paralysed from the waist down, has to reassess his life.
With ear-splitting explosions and an amazing transition of scenes between act one (set in a typical alehouse with comedy schtick characters) and act two, the field of battle, this play remains relevant and connects with its audience, although it can feel a little slow in places and the framing characters of Sylvester and Simon feel a little like pale cousins of the Paycock and his friend from ‘Juno’.
1 thought on “The Silver Tassie (National Theatre) review”
Interesting review. Thank you so much.
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