Blarney or Brilliance?

The German professor, gesturing broadly from behind the podium, maintains that the essence of the creative production, be it the project of the many, or indeed, of the singular, is above all relevant to the schizophrenia of the author.

He indeed continues to say that all theatre is but the striving to assume the Other--to repress some aspect of the One, the accentuation of other aspects.

Without this, the art, so to speak, fails, for the project of the artist is to create new expressions of the Known, he continues. And continues.

Pretension or substance? You be the judge.

Adapted by Richard E. Nash '92 from the writings of modernist Irish author Flann O'Brien, Hair of the Dogma is an intriguing, confusing, play. And in its own absurd but highly credible way, it is very funny.

Nash is also the producer, director and sole member of the cast. He is also a bartender of sorts, offering Guinness stout to the most clever heckler in the audience.

Hair of the Dogma

Adapted by Richard Nash

Adams House Upper Common Room Through Sept. 22

Nash plays several manifestations of his dramatic self. One, his namesake, directs and oversees the scripted action. The other players are a pedantic and highly affected professor; an Irish lad of 20 with many a fantastic tale to weave; and "YER MAN," the principal narrator who is engaged in a conspiracy to overthrow Nash.

This is not standard dramatic fare; it actually seems more like a textual game, that while clever, is not exactly absorbing. If you like to tear into the theoretical underpinnings of theater, Hair of Dogma is remarkably engaging.

In essence the play is a debate about the independence of art from the artist. Through use of a tape-recorder, the narrator and the director exchange insults. "YER MAN" refuses to perform large sections of the play out of spite, Nash threatens to slap him with hemorrhoids. The narrator, a seasoned artistic creation, joins the union of characters who meet surreptitiously in the recesses of the writer's mind to plot his overthrow. He laments the creation of new, politically native characters who flood the job market.

"YER MAN," constantly striving to free himself from the power of his creator, slowly goes insane. A large part of the appeal of this play is the perverse joy of watching the narrator self-destruct. And since "YER MAN" is part of Nash, in a sense we are watching Nash self-destruct.

That Nash can hold the audience's interest singlehandedly for over an hour is a tribute to his tremendous acting ability more than the inherent power of the play. Sometimes the self-consciousness of the work becomes ponderous.

But the wit of Hair of the Dogma keeps the play from sinking into tedium. The ancillary characters certainly enliven it: the professor rants about the nature of atomic particles and the propensity for human beings to turn into bicycles, and the Irish lad spins yarns of the miraculous healing powers of his brother.

Indeed, 'tis some blarney lads in this production. Irish lads, I dare say, fine fellows all--though distinctly resembling a Nash fellow I knew once. As Nash would say, "I wouldn't mind only..."