`Shaughraun': Old-Fashioned O'melodrama -- Seattle Rep Has Good Fun With 1874 Irish Comedy

Theater review "The Shaughraun" by Dion Boucicault. Directed by Larry Carpenter. Seattle Repertory Theatre, at Bagley Wright Theatre, 155 Mercer St. Tuesdays-Sundays through Nov. 1. 206-443-2222.

Sure and begorra, there's fun on those cliffs of County Sligo, Ireland.

Dion Boucicault's melodramatic romp through a rural Irish village gets a lively staging at the Seattle Rep, engaging the audience probably as much as it did when the play first became a hit in 1874.

To be sure, this tale of two women at the mercy of an evil landlord is lighthearted fare, not something that leaves a large emotional impact. But with its winsome, saucy lasses and strapping, stouthearted lads, it's all irresistibly charming.

"The Shaughraun" (a Gaelic word for vagabond or imp of mischief) sets forth the tale of Robert, a young man unjustly imprisoned. Robert has entrusted the care of his love, Arte, and his cousin, Claire, to Father Dolan and Corry Kinchela. Kinchela, however, is an evil man who has embezzled Robert's money and threatens to evict the women unless Arte marries him. When Robert escapes from the penal colony with the help of his childhood friend, Conn (the shaughraun), the adventure begins.

Will Kinchela eventually be caught? Will Captain Molineux, an English soldier in love with Claire, finally win the fair lady's love? Please. Do people wear green on St. Patrick's Day?

But of course, the fun in Boucicault's play isn't guessing at the outcome. It's going along for the convoluted ride, seeing what tongue-in-cheek fun he has with the conventions of the melodramatic form. When's the last time, after all, that you hissed at a villain each time he took to the stage? Or heard such over-the-top lines as: "Men who bully women have the heart of a cur!"

Director Larry Carpenter's decision to frame the action within a wooden set of its own (a stage within a stage, in effect) increases the fun. Audiences see stagehands bringing scenes on, cranking winches, even an actor on the side of the stage, barking, pretending to be Conn's dog. All this adds another layer of tongue-in-cheek humor, an acknowledgement of the artifice of the melodramatic form, without belaboring the point. We're laughing with the characters, and at the melodrama.

That aim is forwarded admirably by scenic designer James Youmans' sets. The designs range from the fairly realistic (mist-shrouded cliffs; stone cottages) to the obviously meant-to-be artificial. Funniest of the latter is a drop of Kinchella's home. As the evil man forlornly describes his crumbling estate, the drop, featuring a tattered and torn painting of his home, plops down onto the stage, crookedly to boot, as if to emphasize Kinchella's feelings at that point: Oh - the ignominy of it all!

The original music by Scott Killian and detailed costumes designed by David Murin add to the texture of the piece. The costumes are bursts of color with those English soldiers in red, Conn in green, and the women in various shades of soft blue, auburn, white. Then there's the evil Kinchella, with his long, stringy hair, purple velvet outfit and black cloak (looking uncannily like Gary Oldman in "Bram Stoker's Dracula").

The acting is solid, with standouts Patrick Welsh as Conn; Peter Silbert as Father Dolan; Suzanne Bouchard as Moya, Conn's love; Julie Eccles as the quick-witted Claire; and J. Paul Boehmer as Captain Molineux, a 19th-century Dudley Do-Right, befuddled by love.

There does come a point in the piece when the melodramatic excesses seem to pile on a bit too thick: wailing mourners at a wake who go on and on . . . and on. A plot that zigs and zags a tad too long.

But as a whole, this sprawling tale is very much like the shaughraun: impish, boisterous and ultimately delightful.