'Dancing at Lughnasa' is hauntingly beautiful

For a play that looks the grimness of life full in the face, "Dancing at Lughnasa" contains plenty of dancing.

Of course, you'd expect as much, from the title.

But this isn't the let's-stop-the-storyand go-into-a-choreographed-dance-withscores of-backup-dancers kind of routine we're used to in musicals.

This is dancing that wells up naturally, out of people's circumstances, dancing that's in response to — or in defiance of — that very grimness with which the characters are all too familiar.

"Dancing at Lughnasa" (at the Florida Repertory Theatre through Feb. 1), isn't a musical at all. But it does contain Irish step dancing, Irish set dancing, waltzing, the tango, and the fox trot.

The dances bubble up naturally from the very depths of the characters, compelling them to move, to reach for joy, to give physical form to unexpressed longings.

"Dancing at Lughnasa" will make you laugh. And it will also break your heart.

Brian Friel's Tony Award-winning drama is a memory play; Michael, an Irishman (Chris Clavelli), recalls the summer when he was 7, living with his mother and her four sisters.

Clockwise, from the left, Jan Wikstrom, Carrie Lund, Lisa Morgan, Rachel Burttram and Michelle Damato in "Dancing at Lughnasa." We're shown a series of scenes, knit together by Mr. Clavelli's monologues, as he shares his memories of that pivotal time.

The five Mundy sisters, all single, struggle to survive. They have each other. And they have the radio, which they call Marconi, after the brand. The radio works — sometimes. Its spurts of infectious music occur too sporadically and abort too soon, just like the tiny bursts of joy in their lives.

As in all families, the sisters each have a designated role. There's Kate (Jan Wikstrom), the eldest, who feels she has to keep order and propriety in the home. The earthy and bawdy Maggie (Lisa Morgan) is a jokester supreme, using humor to deal with the world. Agnes (Carrie Lund), the middle child, is the peacemaker of the family. She's especially close to Rose (Michele Damato), who is "simple." And Christina (Rachel Burttram), the youngest, is the quiet romantic of the five, though all the sisters are quietly pining for love in their lives. It's Chrissie who's had a child out of wedlock: Michael, who narrates the play and gives us his memories.

Their brother, Father Jack (Peter Thomasson), a priest in Africa for 25 years, has returned home. Disoriented, he wanders about, his previous life in Uganda more real to him than his current surroundings. Mr. Thomasson skillfully plays him as a man living in memories, struggling to make sense of the present.

That summer, Michael's father, Gerry (Brendan Powers), shows up, a disrupting presence. A smooth-talking Welsh ne'er-do-well, he has big dreams, none of which ever become reality.

Gerry used to teach ballroom dancing, but now has a new job: selling gramophones. The scenes between Mr. Powers and Ms. Burttram are some of the happiest ones. Though you know he won't keep his word, you can't help but hope for them as Gerry starts sweet-talking Chrissie.

Ms. Burttram's face, so pinched and dark in the house, starts to soften while talking with Mr. Powers, though, for a while, she keeps her arms folded across her chest.

But when the two finally dance about the garden, it's with a lyrical grace and romanticism worthy of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. He may be a fast-talker genetically incapable of keeping his promises and she may be an unwed mother, but you believe, if only for a minute or two, that love is possible.

Mr. Powers plays his scenes with a light touch, careful not to make his character too smarmy. He has charm aplenty, but nothing of substance behind it.

This is an incredibly strong ensemble, without a weak actor in the group. The Mundys make a credible family; you believe they've all lived and struggled together. And as the play progresses, each displays a surprising complexity to her character.

Ms. Morgan, who never fails to amaze when she's on stage, is an obvious audience favorite. Her scenes provide much-needed comedic relief, easily garnering many of the evening's laughs. When she smears flour on her face, hikes her skirts and, with a wild yell, begins to dance, her sisters can't help but join her.

This is a high point of the play. The five let loose with stomping steps, dancing with abandon, grabbing hands or encircling each other's waists. Even the proper Kate can't resist, and while the others are dancing inside, goes into the garden and dances on the bench.

Some of the sisters even dance on top the kitchen table. (And on opening night, when Ms. Morgan started banging on a bread pan with a wooden spoon, she did so so enthusiastically that the head of the spoon broke off and flew into the audience.)

But watch Ms. Morgan's face before she breaks into dance. Hearing of an old friend from the past, she recalls a dance she attended years ago, and the dance contest in which they participated. There's joy in the retelling, great wistfulness, and anger at the contest's results, which is actually a larger anger at the general unfairness of life itself.

And then there are no words, only the ache of longing and the painful realization of what's been lost etched upon her face.

Ms. Domato's character too, surprises. Though "simple," she sometimes knows more about what's going on in town than the others, and also has her eye set on a gentleman in the village. Ms. Lund's Agnes also harbors secrets. She displays a calm demeanor but secretly agonizes over an unrequited love.

Ms. Wikstom's Kate may be schoolmarmish in the house, but she shows great tenderness with her young nephew. She's also willing to be vulnerable with her sister Maggie, expressing her fears for the future. (Maggie, on the other hand, displays a more rough-and-tumble affection for her nephew, playing pranks and peppering him with endless riddles.)

The sisters gossip, joke, quarrel, make up, sing, and yes, dance, all the while slogging through the drudgery of daily life and housework. Will they ever find lasting joy in their lives? Will they ever find true love and marry? Or has their time passed?

The five seem equally shocked and intrigued by the pagan rituals and dances celebrated in the village and also spoken of by Jack, who, at one point suggests that, were they in Africa, the sisters could all share one man and raise his children together.

Guest director Maureen Heffernan, who also directed "Rabbit Hole" and last season's "Doubt" at Florida Rep, has once again done a superb job with this production. Her vision is impeccable; she has a gift for bringing out the best in her actors. You feel she has brought these characters back to life from out of the past.

This is a stunning and haunting production that continues to work its magic long after the actors' final bows. It pries open our chests and shows us the undeniable truth of our naked, aching hearts.

Ray Recht's raked set is spectacular. The stage is divided into the interior of the home — all browns and dusty beiges, like a sepia photograph — and the outside world, with a luminescent blue sky, stone wall, and giant sycamore tree. It's the perfect blend of realism and memory.

The sisters' home, complete with thatched roof, is spare, but lived in. And Recht has carefully placed some children's toys downstage, center: a small wooden wagon, a toy car, a tiny train engine, a small sailboat.

This play is a triumph of theater. Mr. Friel's considered one of our greatest living playwrights and this excellent production more than does justice to his lyrical writing. Florida Rep has once again surpassed itself, providing us with theater that is powerful and moving.

Memories, longings and regrets run through "Dancing at Lughnasa" like a recurring chorus.

But always, always, no matter how grim the circumstances, there is music, and there is dancing.....or at least the bittersweet memory of it.

If you go

>>What: "Dancing at Lughnasa" >>Where: Florida Repertory Theatre, in the Arcade Theatre on Bay Street between Hendry and Jackson, in downtown Fort Myers >>When: through Feb. 1 >>Cost: $38, $34 and $20 >>Info: Call 332-4488 or www.FloridaRep.org