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stilldanytrash · 6 years ago

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I'm going to write this because I don't want what's on TV to mean shit to us in the fandom; (Also, it's like 10:30-ish-pm and I think I just kind of made this a little gay? Idk. Enjoy.)

It was over, they had won. The dawn had arrived after what almost seemed like forever at last, a red sun, a red dawn, symbolizing the blood shed that night. Despite seeing the sun rising over the mountains, the Northerners and the Unsullied did not rejoice. They had won, but at what cost?

Little Lyanna Mormont, the Little Lady Bear, was among the dead. She had murdered one of the undead giants as it crushed her small bones in one hand. The snow was stained red, and Davos had already seen the Red Witch fade into notbing outside of Winterfell's walls. He walked into the gates, looking around at the survivors. Many were dead, injured. There were none who were unscathed, mentally or physically. Daenerys Stormborn was among those trying to save those who could be saved, while Arya searched for Gendry among both living and dead until she found him. Sansa looked around her, her blue eyes wide in fright. The Battle for Winterfell had been fiercer than the Battle of the Bastards, and she was thankful she was among the living.

Dany noticed the glares Missandei was receiving, and she gently dragged her best friend away from the Northerners. "Walk with me?" She asked, and Missandei nodded. They walked around to the weirwood, to the godswood, just the two of them, arm in arm. "Did you fight bravely, Your Grace?" Missandei asked gently. Dany bit back a sob, but her queen façade broke and she cried in front of the godswood in Missandei's arms. "I couldn't save him!" She wailed. "He ran to my side and I couldn't save him!" Missandei didn't need to ask who Dany was talking about, and she wrapped her ginger arms around Dany's body. "Your Grace, Jorah protected you from harm. You're his Queen. He loved you. You know this." Missandei's words were not unkind, and she rested her chin carefully on the silver hair of her crying queen. Dany sniffed. "If I didn't have him, I would have died thrice times over. It was because of him that I picked up a sword and swung."

"He would have been proud, Your Grace."

Dany looked up at Missandei's earnest face, noticing how the early morning light lit up her face, of how her hair had been braided by Dany herself more than once. "If you ever wish to return to Naath, never hesitate to ask, Missandei. You're my dearest friend, you have been since we began to know each other more. And if you ever wished to return to Naath, I would love to come with you, and protect you. Not as your queen, but as your sister." Iron Throne be damned; she never wanted to rule, that had always been Viserys' goal. All she had ever wanted was to return to the house with the red door and yellow lemon tree. Missandei's beautiful features showed her concern. "But, Your Grace... Isn't this what you wanted? Do you not wish to restore House Targaryen, and to break the wheel?" She asked, confused and happy all at once. Dany took Missandei's ginger hands in her pale ones, a smile on her face. "I thought I did. But why waste away thoughtlessly among people who hate me for the crimes of my father? And, why can't I live happily ever after, surrounded by people I love who love me? It doesn't matter to the North that we helped them," her smile had faded and her heart lurched. "I just wanted people to love me. I should have seen it sooner, the Northern men don't want us here. I think we should just slip away. Leave Varys and Tyrion here and just go."

"And where will we go? Cersei has the Iron Fleet..." Missandei shuddered, imagining a horrible death for one or both of Dany's two surviving dragons. "We will return to Dragonstone and take as much as we can. I think if we set it aflame, no one will ever again use it as an outpost, or as a midpoint. With Dragonstone gone, no one will dare look east." She sounded half mad with glee, but it was a contagious, happy kind of madness, the type of madness one got with adrenaline or when one found something to do as a distraction. Dany was absolutely excited, bouncing up and down on the balls of her boots. "We could sail to Naath!" She whispered happily, holding Missandei's hands. Missandei grinned wider. She had been right, Dany would let her return to the home she never knew if only she asked. "Where you go, Your Grace, I will follow."

"Missandei, please, call me Dany." She didn't quite know why she was suddenly allowing someone else to call her Dany. Jon had tried to, back on the boat after she lost Viserion. But now, now Dany felt right, and Missandei deserved that right. Missandei smiled, her smile so bright one could melt ice.

The two of them had decided to join the others for a meeting inside the Great Hall of Winterfell, a hall that had once played host to King Robert and his men all those years ago. They had been beginning to make plans regarding Dany's men. But the Dragon Queen only shook her head. "Do not attempt false formalities, Lady Sansa. I know you despise me. I know all of your Northerners despise me and my army." Dany's words were cold and chipped, not anything like how a mad woman would speak. Silence fell upon the hall faster than it had before the dead had attacked the night before. Lady Sansa regarded Daenerys with calculating eyes. Dany spoke again. "Let it be known that I fought alongside you in the Great War. And let it be known that I had nothing to do with the Last War. I will be taking my men, dragons and Missandei, and we will be leaving you to your own devices. What happens next? Not our problem." She was so tired. Lady Olenna told her to be a dragon, but she was so tired. She was tired of lies, of betrayal. Of fighting. Sansa's glee glowed in her eyes but her face remained gloriously calm. "Oh? And are you a coward all of a sudden?" Sansa asked innocently. Dany smirked. "Face it; you don't like me. Your people don't like mine. I'm doing us both a favour and leaving before this all goes down in flames." She didn't allow Sansa to know how much she was aching inside and she and Missandei left the hall abruptly.

Sansa turned to Jon, eyebrows raised in genuine concern. "Okay, she has point; I don't like her. But what does she mean?" Bran answered for him. "It means that she's had enough, that she's turning her back on Westeros and leaving us. She's done losing everyone she cares about, sacrificing her only family for us." He said in a flat tone. Sometimes, he really hated being the Three Eyed Raven. Sansa bit the inside of her cheek. "We all make sacrifices." She counted. Bran looked up at his sister with a sad smile. "But none of us have ever walked in her shoes, nor she in ours. I'm sure if we talked to her without animosity, she'd reveal to us her plans."

Sansa raised a delicate eyebrow, ignoring the cheers and the noise around them. "Can't you see her plans? We can stop them-"

"But why? If we kill her out of hatred, then it would be dishonorable. Killing her out of spite and hatred goes against everything we stand for, everything Robb fought for. Jon bent the knee to her because she has dragons and we needed her as an ally, not because she forced him to. She called it Jon's war, but she knew that the Army of the Dead were a threat to everyone in Westeros. For her to turn her back on us, it's because we're the ones pushing her away. She's alone in this world. And Jon never knew that. Not really." He looked at the man who once was his brother. "Jon was raised here, among us. Daenerys was raised on the streets. Maybe she's seen what the lords and ladies are truly like and decided she's going to let us figure it out ourselves."

Arya plonked down beside them, her skills of being silent still allowing her the ability to scare the shit out of people. "Maybe the Dragon Queen is going because she wants Missandei to see Naath." Bran shot her a nasty look; Arya had been spying on Missandei and Daenerys in the godswood. Sansa smirked. "So she's a coward?"

"Not a coward." Arya took a bite of an apple. "I think she's just stopped caring about something that wasn't even her own goal in the first place." She munched on it for a minute before continuing: "I will miss the dragons, though. Always wanted to see one up close and now they're leaving." She stabbed a knife into the wood, Sansa scolding her as Catelyn would have. "I have a good bet Daenerys is going to free Yara from Euron before she sails away." Bran looked over at the celebrating men and women. "She's already gone." He stated.

It was true. Daenerys and her remaining army had been packing up while the Northerners were all partying. In fact, ever since dawn, they had been packing. They had been invited, but to what? It seemed like the party was more for Northerners to celebrate the victory of Northerners, and Dany and her army were the unwanted guests. She had just walked out of the room she barely slept in to be face to face with Brandon Stark in his wheelchair and in the dark, candle lit corridor. "You're leaving without saying goodbye." His voice held no accusations. She merely shrugged. "I'm not staying where I'm not welcome. It's become increasingly clear to me that the world no longer wants a Targaryen, no matter what they want to do, no matter if they mean for good or evil." She replied. Bran looked up at her, seemingly looking inside of her. "You're not running because you're scared; you're running because you're tired."

Dany set her lips in a thin line. "Jon told me that you and Sam found out he was the true heir of the Targaryen name. I wish him well." Her words were stiff and harsh, he could hear the hurt in her words. Not at finding out she was not the true heir, no. At the fact that she had always believed she was the last, and for falling in love with her own nephew. "You love him still."

"It's for the best. Sansa would rather see me dead than on the Iron Throne. Personally, I'd rather see a new era in Westeros where the wheel is destroyed and everyone had a right to choose their own leaders." She shrugged. "But people will rather be stuck in their misogyny and their discrimination instead of seeing anything I do as anything but mad." She shrugged. Bran frowned. "You're talking about Missandei?"

"People, your people, are looking at her with mistrust and I'm not going to let her ever feel unwanted again. I freed her so she could live the life she wanted for herself, I freed them all so they could be their own people. And they chose to fight alongside me, we chose to fight for the people. That doesn't make me mad, does it?"

Bran looked at her closely, at the braided silver hair that sang of her many victories, to the bag of clothes in her hands. She waited silently for his verdict. "I cannot say if it makes you mad, and I will not judge you for walking away. Aegon conquered Westeros to unite it, you've tried and you've done so a bit less violently, and not as a conqueror. Daenerys, there's another difference between you and him; he never faced the Army of the Dead, you have, and you won."

"I won, but the Northerners don't care about me anymore now than they did before." She bent over slightly and gave him a kiss on his forehead and began to leave. Bran's last words to her cut deeper than any sword: "Jon is our cousin, that makes you family too." She turned where she was, tears in her eyes. "And yet, I never was and never will be, nor will I ever be welcomed here." And with that, she left.

They were still partying when Daenerys and and her army left. Bran decided to only tell Jon, but only in secret. Everyone seemed to happy, and Bran noticed Daenerys had a point: nobody seemed to notice the 4000 remaining Unsullied, the handful of Dothraki and two fully grown dragons and their mother decided to leave while the sun will still climbing.

Battling with the Iron Fleet was rough, but a few well placed stream of dragonfire had them, and the Golden Company, sinking fast beneath the waves. Yara had rejoined Dany's fleet to attack Euron's own, what she did after that, Dany encouraged her to do her best. Yara was depressed over the death of Theon, and she drank to his heroic actions alone that night. Dany invited her to come with them, if that was her desire. Yara smiled. "Lemme guess, no rapin, no reavin, no murderin?"

"We're going to Naath, Missandei's homeland. I heard the butterflies repay with karma?" Yara grinned at Dany's words. "Thank the gods I already agreed to your terms before. Al'ight, but I wanna nice house when we get there." Dany grinned too. "I think we should all participate in creating a house on Naath, a house we can have as our legacy, to give to our children."

"And what of the Iron Throne?" Yara asked gently. Dany sighed. "Maybe we leave it for a year, let them deal it out and then, if it's Jon, at least we can talk to him without him lying and betraying us. Jon's a good man, I'm just afraid of the misogyny that will be involved to place him on the throne." Yara placed her hand on Dany's back. "Hey, as far as I'm concerned, you did your best. You can't blame asshole men for being blind to your victories, where those asshole men will remind the world of only your mistakes. You're strong, Daenerys Stormborn. You're almost Ironborn."

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leighnetwork · 5 years ago

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‘Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside'… of Blackpool.

Ever since I read about the elegant dances that took place in Blackpool Tower, I’ve wanted to go there. With its ornate ceiling and live music, the fresh sea air tinged with salt, the hustle and bustle of a seaside town in the height of its heyday of 1950’s Britain- and the fashions! I loved the descriptions of the frothy skirts that fluffed out as characters twirled, jumped and danced the night away. I’ve wanted to taste the air and hear the laughter of kids as the Irish sea tickles their feet for the first tine...

I’d imagined going up with cousins, but, of course, they grew too old for things like funfairs- preferring more exotic trips abroad. I’d envisioned a girly weekend with those friends who I’d known my whole life, who had stuck by me through moving across the country aged 11, had sent letters that kept me going when in hospital aged 12, who weren't ashamed to be seen out and about with me- a wheelchair user- as so many school friends were.

They stuck by me throughout the Leigh’s diagnosis, with only one drifting slightly. They supported Leigh Network with gusto! However, the test of friendship came when I lost my sight. In the blink of an eye, I lost what had, up to then, been a very good friend. I never thought she'd be the one to turn her back on 15+ years of friendship. But she was. Lol, it still niggles me that I never had a thank you text from her for the birthday gift I sent, nor a reply to my emails enquiring about how she was. Anyway, I hope she is well, and if she ever does want to nudge the door of friendship open, I will gladly welcome her back. I am, of course so, so grateful and thankful to those friends who have stuck by me as I face this new challenge of negotiating life blindly. I hope people see I am still the same funny, creative me I always was…

…Anyway! Wandered off on a tangent there, didn't I? Back to Blackpool!

When our Mito/ Leigh Network friends asked us to join them for dinner in Blackpool, how could we say no? When my mum and I began researching hotels in the area, we discovered a peculiarity on the internet.

A room is advertised at, say £45. But, when you phone up to check the access (we learned to do this as in the past, one B&B called itself ‘Accessible’ although it had 2 steps to get in!), when they hear the phrase 'accessible room', a £45 room becomes £70! I really do not know why businesses feel they can charge an extra £25, just because a person is V.I. and/ or a wheelchair user. Have they not heard of government cuts and the way the ill and disabled are being penalised for their health? We had no choice but to pay the additional charge for space to turn my wheelchair.

We arrived at the station on the hottest day of year: the sun was shining, and the temperature was rising, so we decided to stroll to The President Hotel.

The warm temperature dipped as we walked along the prom that stretched out across the Irish sea. Grey clouds tumbled across the sky turning the pristine blue sky dark, grey and foreboding as silvery clouds worked with charcoal ones to scrub the blue sky. As light rain speckles turned into pelting rain splodges, thunder growled angrily above us. We had found a shelter to huddle under, but as the rain got a bit lighter, we darted out to carry on our journey of finding the hotel. Racing along, I glanced up and saw it - a crackle of white lightening. 'Can you go any faster, Faye?' my mum called over the roaring thunder.

I picked up speed as the grey clouds cleared to white and the temperature rose again. What a beautiful storm.

The street access was very good, with dropped kerbs and beeping traffic lights aplenty. As I steered up the ramp of the hotel, an irony hit me - on the hottest day of the year, when London was bathing in 38 degrees, we were bathing in rain, being drenched in a storm, lol.

We checked in then squeezed into the small lift, but were glad for the lift, as so many places simply don't consider it. Our room was nice, despite being directly next to a staircase (with no signage to warn guests). The positives were: it had friendly staff, a turning space in both the room and bathroom and free WIFI. And the dining room overlooked the sea!

After relaxing with an audio book, we heard from our friends. They were on their way, so we headed out too. A warm breeze picked up, giving the grey-blue-golden sky a dusty glow. We were about halfway to the pub we were meeting in, when I felt little pricks on my bare arms and legs . ‘It’s raining!' I called to mum, as the little needle-like pricks turned into big, fat raindrops. My mum hurried to put up the umbrella. In the distance, I heard thunder rumble deeply. But, just as quickly as it had started, the sun came out and a warm calm returned.

We have met with Dave and Christine at the last few Newcastle Mito Patient Days. They are a lovely couple. We have known Cheryl, Gary and their 28-year-old daughter since they came and attended our Leigh Network meeting in Liverpool in 2014 and since then, our friendship has grown.

As we all caught up on each other’s news in the Weatherspoon’s seafront pub, or meals arrived. Alex's baby niece and young nephew provided us all with entertainment- bouncing and dancing round our table. Like a rocket, H zipped around and E had us all laughing with his boundless energy!

After finishing our meals, we strolled along to the funfair on the pier. The sun was out again now, and a warm breeze blew as we chatted on our way to the pier.

Shrieks of laughter and fear filled the air as fairground music sang. The colourful rides whooshed and bounced, swinging through the sea-salty, candyfloss sweetened air. Cheryl's husband took his thrill- seeking grandson on the rides, Dave, Cheryl, Alex, my mum and I cheering him on as he gleefully squealed, whilst the other kids cried to get off!

We slowly ambled back along the prom, our evening with friends coming to a close. As the temperature dropped slightly, we all hugged and said, ‘See you later’.

We picked up a portion of chips on our way back to the B&B and my Mum noticed the fairy lights along the prom that lit up, changing colour as night fell.

The following day, we explored the famous Blackpool Tower. Although the lift lacked an audio announcer, the general access was good- though staff could do with being aware of invisible illnesses- and an audio-described tour would be appreciated.

We went up to the very top. Out of the window, I could just see an expanse of beautiful blue sky. It seemed endless yet confining and imposing. At the very bottom of the window, I could just make out a strip of golden-brown colour, which I assumed to be sand. The tower has a skywalk- it’s a floor made of see-through glass- to give you a new perspective on the sea-view. Below, it just looked grey and cloudy to my V.I. eyes.

We then headed down to the well-renowned and internationally recognised Blackpool Tower Ballroom, where the Strictly Come Dancing Special takes place.

The cosy, warm, darkly lit ballroom felt like we had stepped back in time, with its ornate, intricately tiled ceiling and the pink and orange sign that adorned the wall behind the dancefloor to remind us of where we were. On the dancefloor, the atmosphere intensified as a couple of professional dancers tangoed and rhumba’d their way around in time to the organ being played- live- by the musician.

Whilst my mum watched and I listened, we were reminded of my Nan, who spent much of her youth and married life in dance halls.

When the professionals took a breather, audience members were invited onto the dancefloor. We were reminded of the past times and courtesy of my Nan’s generation, when an elderly gentleman asked my mum to dance the waltz. Unfortunately, due to my mum’s lack of dancing experience, she had to turn his kind offer down (she was also scared of standing on his toes).

After being unable to convince her, he walked off to ask another who did fulfil his dancing dream. We sipped the remainder of our drinks, watching/ listening to the scene. At the end, the organist thanked the dancers and audience, before, as if by magic, disappearing into the stage, as a pianist appeared. We enjoyed a few more performances then headed off to catch our train after popping to a few shops.

We really enjoyed our first trip to Blackpool and look forward to returning!

Since then, we at Leigh Network were delighted to hear Blackpool Tower took part in Global Mitochondrial Disease Awareness Week by glowing green for mito! Well done Blackpool Tower!

#greatbritishsummertime memories friends leighnetwork mitochondrialdisease blackpool blackpooltower disabledaccess lightupformito

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newyorktheater · 6 years ago

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Paddy Considine as Quinn Carney (center, standing) and the company of The Ferryman

By the time “The Ferryman” has ended, we have been treated to a breathtaking mix of revenge action thriller, romance, melodrama, family saga, and a feast of storytelling – ghost stories, fairy stories, stories of Irish history and politics, stories of longing and of loss.

Jez Butterworth’s play about farmer Quinn Carney and his sprawling, colorful family is rich, sweeping entertainment — epic, tragic….and cinematic.

No, director Sam Mendes, best known as a film director (American Beauty, Road to Perdition, Spectre), doesn’t use projection design or other movie-like technical touches. Unlike his James Bond films, nobody travels to exotic locations around the globe. Indeed, after an ominous prologue, the play takes place entirely in Ron Howell’s lived-in feeling set of a living room of the Carney’s old stone house in County Armagh, Northern Ireland.

But “The Ferryman” comes closer to a movie than to most plays these days in several ways: Its scale — there are some two dozen actors, all terrific, most making their Broadway debuts; its embrace of naturalism — there’s a live baby, a bunny, and a goose! — and simultaneously of myth; its willingness to mine archetypes, and its bold use of familiar storylines from crowd-pleasing genres.

The playwright and the director pull this off through skilled construction – a masterful sense of suspense, and of when to focus and when to pull back to show the panorama. A significant joy of “The Ferryman” is sharing in the characters’ excitement, dancing, singing, joking and general hubbub during the Harvest and the Harvest Feast that follows.

“The Ferryman” was inspired by a true story. Several months before Laura Donnelly was born in Belfast, her 26-year-old uncle, who was involved with the Irish Republican Army, vanished. Three years later, his body was found in a bog.

Donnelly told this story to the playwright, her partner at the time. She is the actress who now (winningly) portrays Caitlin Carney in “The Ferryman,” a woman whose husband Seamus Carney disappeared ten years ago. At the outset of the play, his body has been found in a bog, with a gunshot in the back of his head. Seamus was the brother of Quinn Carney (an anchoring Paddy Considine.) It is August, 1981, a time when imprisoned members of the IRA have gone on hunger strike, and are starving to death one by one. A leader in the IRA, Mr. Muldoon (a deep-voice, smooth-talking villain portrayed by Stuart Graham) visits the Carneys with a two henchmen and a warning: With the hunger strikes focusing world attention on The Troubles, this is not the right time to be making accusations against the IRA; they need to accept “that what happened to Seamus was a tragedy which had absolutely nothing to do with us.”

Quinn, we learn, has a past with Muldoon; he was a soldier, but gave it up ten years ago – right before his brother’s disappearance.

Caitlin has lived with Quinn’s family ever since, and she’s more or less taken responsibility for Quinn’s seven children (now aged 16 to nine months), while their mother Mary (an ethereal Genevieve O’Reilly) retreats to her bed with a series of imagined “viruses.” It’s clear from the very first scene, when they’re dancing to the Rolling Stones, that Caitlin and Quinn seem to have a special….rapport.

These plotlines give “The Ferryman” forward thrust. But the many characters and their stories give it beauty; and the underlying themes give it heft. This is a play full of storytellers, who understand the importance of a good yarn well-told. We’re cued in early to this when Quinn’s Aunt Pat (Dearbhla Molloy) ridicules her brother Uncle Pat (Mark Lambert) after he recalls his first Harvest Feast. “You know what irks me most about this ‘story’? It isn’t one,” Aunt Pat says, in a monologue that is both amusing and that introduces us to her bitterness – which we eventually learn was caused by the death of her older brother during the Easter Rising of 1916.

Nearly every character sooner or later gets their moment in the sun, many of them telling stories, We first meet Aunt Maggie Faraway (the great Fionnula Flanagan) in her wheelchair, silent and seemingly senile. But she suddenly comes to life, and Quinn’s girls (Brooklyn Shuck, Matilda Lawler, Willow McCarthy, and Carla Langley, wonderful young actresses all) gather around her to ask her questions – where has she been, why has she never married, what will their futures hold, why is “Aunt Pat such a bitch?”…each of which yields a story more spellbinding and fantastical than the last – before she again falls silent.

The actors portraying Quinn’s aunts and uncle are olds pros, and priceless. There are many other memorable performances. Tom Glynn-Carney portrays Shane Corcoran, Quinn’s nephew, one of three brothers who have come from Derry to help with the harvest. He starts off as fun-loving lad who changes up the music from Irish fiddling to the hard rock “Teenage Kicks” by the Undertones and dances like a maniac. He reveals himself as astrident Irish patriot who’s been flirting with the IRA, then becomes an anxious kid who picks a fight with first his cousin Michael Carney (the wonderfully Fra Fee) and then with his brother Diarmaid (the equally wonderful Conor MacNeil), before he winds up adrunken and dangerous lout. Justin Edwards is Tom Kettle, a feeble-minded but strong, well-meaning and capable handyman who recalls the character Lenny in Of Mice and Men. Because he is an Englishman in Northern Ireland, though he’s lived there since childhood, the militant members of the family, including Aunt Pat and Shane, express outright hatred for him. This hatred prompts a series of events that feed into the multiply shocking climax of “The Ferryman.” Some theatergoers might wonder at how plausible the ending is. But they’re likely to reflect on this only after they’ve had a chance to catch their breath back home. And with that reflection may come as well the realization that the underlying themes (such as the wages of hatred) add heft to what seemed merely to be the most thrilling play of the Broadway season.

The Ferryman

Bernard B. Jacobs Theater Written by Jez Butterworth; Original music by Nick Powell; Directed by Sam Mendes. Scenic and costume design by Rob Howell; lighting Design by Peter Mumford; sound design by Nick Powell; Hair and wig design by Campbell Young Associates Cast: Paddy Considine, Laura Donnelly, Genevieve O’Reilly, Dean Ashton, Glynis Bell, Gina Costigan, Charles Dale, Justin Edwards, Fra Fee, Fionnula Flanagan, Tom Glynn-Carney, Stuart Graham, Mark Lambert, Carla Langley, Conor MacNeill, Colin McPhillamy, Rob Malone, Dearbhla Molloy, Glenn Speers, Niall Wright, Audrey Bennett, Peter Bradbury, Trevor Harrison Braun, Will Coombs, Carly Gold, Holly Gould, Matilda Lawler, Michael McArthur, Bella May Mordus, Griffin Osbourne and Brooklyn Shuck Running time: 3 hours and 15 minutes, including two intermission (one 15 minutes, one three minutes.)

Tickets: $59.00 – $175.00

Recommended for 10 years old and over.

Click on any photograph by Joan Marcus to see it enlarged

Paddy Considine as Quinn Carney

Laura Donnelly as Caitlin Carney

Justin Edwards (Tom Kettle) [holding Pierce The Bunny], Carla Langley (Shena Carney – hidden), Willow McCarthy (Mercy Carney), Brooklyn Shuck (Nunu (Nuala) Carney), Matilda Lawler (Honor Carney), and Rob Malone (Oisin Carney)

Glenn Speers (Lawrence Malone), Charles Dale (Father Horrigan), Dean Ashton (Frank Magennis), and Stuart Graham (Muldoon)

(L-R): Niall Wright (James Joseph (JJ) Carney), Matilda Lawler (Honor Carney), Justin Edwards (Tom Kettle), Mark Lambert (Uncle Patrick Carney), Fra Fee (Michael Carney), and Willow McCarthy (Mercy Carney)

Fionnula Flanagan (Aunt Maggie Far Away) and Mark Lambert (Uncle Patrick Carney)

Brooklyn Shuck (Nunu (Nuala) Carney), Matilda Lawler (Honor Carney), Willow McCarthy (Mercy Carney), and Carla Langley (Shena Carney)

Fionnula Flanagan (Aunt Maggie Far Away), Matilda Lawler (Honor Carney – sitting on the floor), and Brooklyn Shuck (Nunu (Nuala) Carney)

Stuart Graham (Muldoon) and Paddy Considine (Quinn Carney)

Genevieve O’Reilly (Mary Carney) and Sean Frank Coffey (Bobby Carney) Directed By Sam Mendes

Willow McCarthy (Mercy Carney), Brooklyn Shuck (Nunu (Nuala) Carney), and Dearbhla Molloy (Aunt Patricia Carney)

Willow McCarthy (Mercy Carney), Brooklyn Shuck (Nunu (Nuala) Carney), Genevieve O’Reilly (Mary Carney), and Matilda Lawler (Honor Carney)

Laura Donnelly (Caitlin Carney), Genevieve O’Reilly (Mary Carney), Sean Frank Coffey (Bobby Carney), and Paddy Considine (Quinn Carney)

Fra Fee (Michael Carney), Tom Glynn-Carney (Shane Corcoran), and Conor MacNeill (Diarmaid Corcoran)

The Ferryman By Jez Butterworth Directed By Sam Mendes

Scenic and costume design by Rob Howell; lighting Design by Peter Mumford; sound design by Nick Powell; Hair and wig design by Campbell Young Associates

The Ferryman Review: A Breathtaking Feast of Stories and Character By the time "The Ferryman" has ended, we have been treated to a breathtaking mix of revenge action thriller, romance, melodrama, family saga, and a feast of storytelling – ghost stories, fairy stories, stories of Irish history and politics, stories of longing and of loss.

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