Theatre review: Bryan Murray's own experience to the fore in Alzheimer's play 

Deirdre Kinahan's play was written for the veteran actor who was diagnosed with dementia a number of years ago 

Bryan Murray in An Old Song, Half Forgotten, at the Peacock Theatre. Picture: Ros Kavanagh 

An Old Song, Half Forgotten: Abbey Theatre, Peacock Stage

★★★★☆

Actors are told to live the moment anew with each performance, but to see that truism embodied by an actor that literally has no other choice is quite extraordinary. This is precisely what happens in Deirdre Kinahan’s remarkable new play, written for veteran actor Bryan Murray, who was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease several years ago.

Murray himself is best known for roles in Fair City, Brookside, RTÉ’s adaptation of Strumpet City, and the fondly remembered The Irish RM. Kinahan’s play tells a fictionalised version of Murray’s own life, mirroring his trajectory from Inchicore origins to London success via the Abbey Theatre, and revisiting it all through the prism of his illness. 

The writing beautifully balances the Alzheimer sufferer’s crystal-clear memories of things long past with the fuzziness and confusion of day-to-day life. But if Murray is playing the fictional actor James O’Brien, we can never really forget it’s Murray the man we are seeing. 

Because of his short-term memory loss, he repeats lines delivered via an earpiece, his stagecraft and presence carrying him through what for him must always remain uncharted terrain.

 This is not an actor performing Alzheimer’s, it’s an actor living it. Therein lies the quiet power of this beguiling piece of theatre.

Bryan Murray and Matthew Malone in An Old Song, Half Forgotten. Picture: Ros Kavanagh.

Joining Murray on stage, the excellent Matthew Malone offers versatility and movement around the former’s still centre. Yet for all the energy he brings, Malone never overshadows Murray. It’s a deft performance, as he takes on multiple roles in Louise Lowe’s fluidly directed action: an alter ego, a younger Murray, and, with great comic effect, his mother, keen to convince anyone who’ll listen that her darling’s a natural. 

With notebook in hand, he jots down the memories Murray speaks. It’s a symbolic attempt to frame experience, to grasp onto one’s memories and, hence, oneself.

With its moving, intersecting arch and frame, Conor Jacob’s set is an eloquent extension of the play’s themes, while Ciaran Bagnall’s multicoloured lighting conjures an apt placelessness and mystery. Adding yet another layer to a richly realised production is a string quartet stationed stage left. Paul Frost’s new music for them is a treat.

• Until May 6