★★★ Dancing at Lughnasa Struggles to Find Its Heart

Martha Dunlea (Christina) and Natalie Radmall-Quirke (Kate) in Dancing at Lughnasa. Photo by Johan Persson.

Brian Friel’s “Dancing at Lughnasa” is often praised for its poetic poignancy and tender reflection on memory, loss, and change. Set during the late summer of 1936 in rural County Donegal, it captures a pivotal moment in the lives of the five Mundy sisters as modernity encroaches on their traditional home life. Directed by Elizabeth Newman (marking her debut as Artistic Director at Sheffield Theatres), this production aims to embrace the play’s lyrical tone and nostalgic pull (a semi-autobiographical play of Friel’s early life), but ultimately falls short of emotional resonance.

The play opens with the entire cast gathered under a warm stage glow as Michael (Kwaku Fortune), who plays both narrator and the younger version of his character, addresses the audience directly. It’s an intimate and inviting introduction, setting the tone for a story rooted in memory and personal reflection. Francis O’Connor’s set design beautifully captures the rustic simplicity of the Mundy home, creating a lived-in space for each of the sisters and the daily household chores.  

Performance-wise, the cast delivers across the board. Each actor brings depth and nuance to their role, especially in showcasing the chemistry and warmth amongst the sisters. The inclusion of 1930s music, which drifts in and out on their intermittently functioning ‘Marconi’ radio like a dream, adds an atmosphere that creates the themes of nostalgia and joy.

However, while the production gets many of the individual elements right (staging, performances, sound), it struggles to cohere into something more impactful. Much of what is vital to the characters’ emotional journeys happens offstage or is implied rather than shown. Key events are relayed through Michael’s narration or referenced indirectly, creating a sense of distance that makes it difficult to truly connect with the characters. For a play so rooted in memory and familial bonds, the emotional core felt incredibly absent.

At nearly three hours long, the production has pacing issues, especially in the second act, where the storytelling felt more like a series of remembered moments rather than a fully realised narrative. The structure of the play, while intentionally fragmentary and reflective, left too much unsaid and unexplored which made it difficult to feel the intended (and assumed) emotional weight of this family story or come to terms with understanding what actually happened. That said, there is still much to appreciate in this production. The Crucible’s setting fosters a tangible intimacy, drawing the audience into the Mundy kitchen as though they too are part of the family.

In the end, “Dancing at Lughnasa” is a play that asks its audience to lean into themes of memory, silence, longing. But while this staging captures the beauty of that idea in form, it doesn’t quite land its emotional substance. A strong effort with standout performances but ultimately a production that leaves too much unsaid to truly resonate and stick with you.