Belle Aykroyd (left) plays Sara and Robert Cuccioli is her father, Major Cornelius (Con) Melody, in Eugene O’Neill’s A Touch of the Poet.
Written in 1942, Eugene O’Neill’s A Touch of the Poet was intended to be the first of multiple plays about the Irish experience in America. O’Neill’s cycle was never completed, and the play was produced posthumously, in 1958. The Irish Repertory Theatre’s revival, masterfully directed by Ciarán O’Reilly, is a gut-wrenching drama that focuses on the Irish American Melody clan in the Boston of 1828. Led by Con (for Cornelius) Melody (Robert Cuccioli), a ne’er-do-well immigrant and inn owner who recites Lord Byron’s poetry, most of the characters live in a world full of delusions.
Con’s grasp of reality seems to have ended after the Battle of Talavera in the Napoleonic wars, the impending anniversary of which he joyfully anticipates. He regards his long-gone heroism in the British army under the Duke of Wellington, fighting the French as “Major” Melody, as his crowning achievement and a testimony to his honor and self-styled social status. For those, he demands respect from all—never mind that he was discharged from the army for killing a Spanish officer whose wife he had bedded.
Sara shares a tender mother-daughter moment with Kate Melody (Kate Forbes, right). Photographs by Carol Rosegg.
However, Con’s failure to transcend class structures in America leads him to drink, and he is impervious to the impact of his drunken rages and efforts to flaunt his military career and bogus “high” birth in Galway. Numerous poor, drunk souls in rags frequent Con’s tavern and praise his generosity, as the default “lord of the manor” who provides them with free drinks. They tolerate his barbs without recriminations. His delusion is also fed by the sole firsthand witness of his bravery on the battlefield—his saber-scarred distant cousin Jamie Cregan (David Beck filled in for Andy Murray at the performance I saw).
Similarly, Nora (Kate Forbes), Con’s emotionally battered wife, provides unconditional love and support, puts up with his mood swings and outbursts, and enables them by plying him with drink when he appears unhinged. Nora’s devotion, fueled in part by her guilt at conceiving their daughter Sara (Belle Aykroyd) out of wedlock, results in distancing herself from priest and church. Sara has no reticence about lashing out at Con’s abuses, especially his thoroughbred mare, which consumes much of his limited income but symbolizes his status as a gentleman. She laments: “I know well he cares more for a horse than for us.”
“The play is graced by Forbes’s exquisite portrayal of a long-suffering wife whose unequivocal love is unappreciated and unrequited by her husband.”
When it is revealed that unpretentious Sara has been nursing Simon, the sensitive, equally unpretentious poet son of the socially prominent Hartfords, Con fantasizes about a “settlement” the Hartfords would pay him for the privilege of marrying Sara to Simon. Con sees Sara as a fortuitous bargaining chip for social advancement: “If you trick Hartford into getting you with child, I could not refuse my consent.”
The play is graced by Forbes’s exquisite portrayal of a long-suffering wife whose unequivocal love is unappreciated and unrequited by her husband. The pomposity of Robert Cuccioli’s Con, which sometimes subsumes the other cast members, is somewhat offset by the geniality of Beck’s Cregan. Until he eventually discerns Con’s madness, Cregan is swept up in it, and he serves as a contrast to Con’s bitter and nasty demeanor. Aykroyd conveys the feistiness and unashamed candor of a young woman repelled by her father and his treatment of the women in his life.
Con (Cuccioli) makes unwanted advances toward Deborah Hartford (Mary McCann).
The technical aspects, from the period set by Charlie Corcoran, with its cracked and paint-worn walls, create a vivid atmosphere, to Michael Gottlieb’s muted lighting enhance the perception of early American hardship. Alejo Vietti and Gail Baldoni have co-created the costumes, from the tattered clothes of locals to the bright red British uniform in which Con swaggers and recites Byron.
O’Neill did not publish the play in his lifetime. Perhaps he wanted to spare his family a painfully graphic view of his upbringing, although it seems equally likely that he wanted to spare himself that pain. Like Long Day’s Journey into Night, also posthumously published, A Touch of the Poet doesn’t stint on Con’s rage, alcoholic stupor, or vulnerability once the drink wears off. It’s downright ugly.
The Irish Rep’s rendition of the play underscores Irish immigrants’ struggles in making new lives in America while holding on to strengths and dignity of their heritage. It fits well with O’Neill’s legacy of resilience amid tragedy, of pride’s undoing, and of families’ inevitable and often destructive intergenerational impact.
Eugene O’Neill’s A Touch of the Poet runs through April 17 at the Irish Repertory Theatre (132 W. 22nd St.). Evening performances are at 8 p.m. on Wednesdays, Fridays and Saturdays and at 7:30 p.m. on Thursdays; matinees are at 3 p.mm. on Wednesdays, Saturdays and Sundays. For more information, call the box office at (212) 727-2737 or visit irishrep.org.
