Wednesday, June 30, 2010


Well here is the fist national review of When Harry Met Sally in the Grand Canal Theatre. While not making one want to rush to the venue to catch the Hollywood film turned theatre, don't fret it is only one man's opinion. Some of the staff attended the show this week and thoroughly enjoyed it. Go and see it and make your own conclusions.

WHILE Marcy Kahan's stage adaption of his famous romantic comedy is lively enough, it really would take Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan to animate the vast science-fictional dimensions of the Grand Canal Theatre. The chatty confessionals of the story simply isn't suite to such a large space.
Rupert Hill's Harry is the most effective, his sinewy New Jersey accent and clipped physical mannerisms give this garrulous character a lot of warmth. And, of course, he has most of the best lines.
Sarah Jayne Dunne makes a far less impression as the romantically accident-prone Sally. In the first act, she's just a competent American accent, with nothing to suggest how Harry's cerebral interest could be continually reignited.
It's not until the second act that she becomes slightly weightier complement. All those years on the `Hollyoaks' soap opera come into play as she alternately bubbles with repressed desire and snorts with exasperations at Harry's stubbornly platonic behaviour.
Sally's infamous imitation orgasm in the restaurant could hardly be left out, and it's good enough, but erupts rather than flows our of th heated discussion about women faking it and men being fooled. Like every other scene in Michael Gyngell's production, it feels dutifully slotted in rather than thoughtfully arranged.
There is solid support in Luke Ruterford and Annabelle Browne as Jack and Helen, the two friends who pair off and get married against Harry and Sally's expectations.
But there's no compensation for the one missing crucial character that only the film can supply: New York. Plucked out of that teeing metropolis and dropped on the stage, Harry and Sally's long-term on-off relationship, however witty and representative it can be rendered, seems self indulgent and insignificant.
By John McKeown - Irish Independent.

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