A NIGHT TO REMEMBER
Walking into the New York Irish Center in Long Island City for the first time to see a show feels a bit like stumbling into a well-kept secret; it’s an intimate gathering place and an unassuming, cozy, cultural enclave. You hear snippets of conversation in lilting accents, laughter echoing from the bar or the reading room, and there’s a warm feeling of shared experience. I was there to see A Night in November, a one-man monodrama written by Marie Jones in 1994, during The Troubles, an example of dark humor laced with poignant drama at its best, partly because it was based on true events that happened only 30 years ago.
Starring Alan Smyth, directed by Tim Redmond and co-directed by Caroline Morahan, the play was staged in an informal room, the set was a 5-foot wide part of the floor that ran from wall to wall, surrounded by chairs on both sides. It couldn’t be more intimate. Jones’s script summarized the complexities of Northern Irish sectarianism in just over 90 minutes with one actor, no costume changes, a few props, and dozens of different characters. A tour de force for Smyth who inhabited each one of them, from a bigoted father-in-law to a stiff wife. Smyth deserved a gold medal for vocal gymnastics.
The story: Kenneth Norman McCallister is a clerk who works for the Welfare Office, a normal Protestant man living in Belfast. His home is spotless, symmetrical, with a perfectly manicured front lawn, and a scent of emotional repression. Ken is trapped in a joyless marriage; his wife is all gentle nods and passive phrases. With her, they whisper through life and believe emotional expression is something best left to Catholics. One of them, a young man in his thirties with six children, goes to Ken’s office to ask for help and he makes him wait the whole day in vain because he doesn’t like his tone.
Until one event triggers a complete change in his life but, to explain it, I need to recall a couple of historical facts. We are toward the end of The Troubles, the conflict in Northern Ireland between Catholics and Protestants that lasted from the late 1960s to 1998. Northern Ireland is roughly the same size as Connecticut, driving across it takes only a couple of hours, so more than a conflict it was fratricide. On October 23, 1993, on Shankill Road (Belfast), a bombing was carried out by the Irish Republican Army (Catholics who wanted a United Ireland independent from England) to assassinate the leadership of the loyalist Ulster Defence Association (Protestants, loyal to the Crown). The bomb detonated prematurely and ten people were killed. More than fifty people were wounded. Seven days later in Greysteel, on the evening of October 30th, the loyalists retaliated with a mass shooting in a crowded pub during a Halloween party, killing eight and wounding nineteen. One of the gunmen yelled “trick or treat” as he opened fire.
It’s now November 17, and Ken promised his wife he would take her father to the stadium to go see an important soccer match. Their team, Northern Ireland, is playing the Republic of Ireland at Windsor Park in a World Cup qualifying match. His father-in-law is an odious bigot and he starts chanting “trick or treat” with other idiots, spitting hateful remarks against the Catholics. Protestants vs. Catholics, “us” vs. “them”; Ken feels the inhumanity, the division, more than ever before. The game ended in a 1-1 draw but the Republic’s goal secured their spot in the 1994 World Cup, a match that was going to be played in New York.
The hatred he witnessed causes a spiritual awakening and Ken starts opening up to the Catholics he knows, like his boss. He even goes to his house, in a deeply Catholic part of Belfast he never visited before, curious to see how “the other side” lived, as if they were in two totally different continents within the same city. Decades of sectarian rules fueled true hatred, fear, but mostly ridiculous ignorance. We watch him gradually shed the inherited prejudice, and it’s a journey of guilt, shame, until he finally realizes that Catholics are people, his people from the same island. There is a lot more in this sharp and impactful plot that ends with a comical finale but I don’t want to spoil it for you.
Hilarious, insightful, compelling, this is a play I will not forget even if it didn’t have all the frills and thrills of a Broadway show. The brilliance of Jones’s writing lies in her ability to create a character who is deeply flawed yet fully human, and Smyth gave us a powerful performance as Ken. The shift from prejudice to personal growth is not easy or linear and Jones suggests that transformation is possible. I want to believe it, especially now.
photos by Tim Redmond
A Night in November
presented by New York Irish Center & Origin 1st Irish Theatre Festival
played at New York Irish Center on April 16 & 17, 2025
find Alan Smyth on X, Facebook and Instagram
