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Meath Street
Dublin
8
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My Son My Son
My Son My Son is a new play by Veronica Dyas about THE MOTHER, inspired by Bertolt Brecht’s learning play, ‘The Mother’. Through her story we witness her ‘working class community’. The intention is not to accentuate a binary, us and them. But we need to stop pretending that class isn’t a real thing. It is. Still.
Anyway. It’s about THE MOTHER. She’s a Mother because she tells us she is. Constantly. She has one son, hence the title. This won’t pass the Bechdel Test. That’s deliberate. All characters are female. Men only exist off stage, somewhere else, doing other things. Her best friend is Mary, they’ve been friends since they were 7. Mary is childless, but married. THE MOTHER’s never been married. She’s against it really. They’re strong, liberal working class women from the South Inner City. Up the Liberties! And a bit bet down by The Life when we meet them. Set on MEATH STREET, we’re telling the story of THE MOTHER. Backwards. In 7 year intervals. Beginning with a visit to HAIRDRESSER, moving via GROTTO down to DOORWAY OF THE LARK INN landing outside LARKIN’S BUTCHERS* where 7 year old THE MOTHER stands inside her Mammy’s shopping trolley dodging umbrellas. She’s afraid of umbrellas.
*recently sold and redeveloped as a Hickey’s Pharmacy. There’s 3 chemists within 3 minutes walk. That’s in the now, not in the past.
An abundance of plot and narrative. Drama basically. There’s a lot of drama in our lives. That’s not what’s really important, but we’ll use that to get to what is. We want to connect. We need to. There’s a lot to do.
