The ethos of Cork Midsummer Festival, that all the city is a stage, is truly embodied as a queue forms outside the Theatre for One venue near Cork Opera House. A slight delay, caused by a noisy street-cleaning machine, only adds to the collective excitement. Staff offering sunscreen in the midday sun further enhances the convivial atmosphere, as anticipation builds for Landmark Productions and Octopus Theatricals’ performances.
Theatre for One presents concentrated, five-minute plays, where a single actor performs for a solitary audience member within a small, confessional-style booth. This year’s theme, “Made in Cork,” features works by six Cork writers, skillfully directed by Julie Kelleher and Eoghan McCarrick. Upon entering, the sudden darkness and plush red velvet instantly evoked memories for this former convent school student.
The undercurrent of religious themes persists in penned by Michael John McCarthy and powerfully delivered by Marion O’Dwyer. The scene is set quickly: an older woman at a New York bus stop opens up to a fellow passenger – I’m startled when she asks my name.
As she reminisces about her Irish childhood, her New York accent melts away, replaced by the melodic cadence of her West Cork upbringing. Wearing a cross, she speaks of praying for her deceased husband at church and imagines her own idealized funeral back home before dismissing the notion. She then indicates that my bus is approaching and bids me farewell.
Next is showcasing the multi-faceted talent of Gina Moxley, who both wrote and performed. She recounts a college trip to the US and an encounter with Elijah, a palm-reading hotel employee emanating “a bang of Southern Gothic,” whose offhand remark has haunted her for years. Seemingly fragile, yet resolute, she, like the woman at the bus stop, grapples with her own mortality.
It’s profound but also wonderfully funny, thanks to Moxley’s knack for clever phrasing. The intimate, even confrontational, nature of the format amplifies the experience as she takes my hand, remarking on its softness, before handing me a notebook. In it, she asks me to write the words for a tattoo she envisions across her chest. As she spells them out, I gasp at the implication and hesitate, struggling with her request. It stands as one of the most affecting and impactful moments I’ve encountered in theater.
As the screen lowers, tears well in my eyes. I need a moment, but the door swings open, sunlight floods in, dispelling the darkness – time to return to the real world.
