The Carlin Moth
On Friday and Saturday last week, packed audiences saw a fine production of Robert McLellan’s strangely mystical play, The Carlin Moth, at the Community Theatre. The story of the play had something in common with the old Scottish myth of the Silkie, in which a young woman belongs in spirit to her seal family and must sometimes go back to the sea. In McLellan’s play, the magical young woman has another existence as a moth that can vanish into the night, and her power over the crofter lad who loves her is total.
Donald McEachern as the bewitched lad was solid and utterly credible, as was the purely human lass who adores him, played by Ceila Swinton-Boyle. Ailsa McNicol as the lass’s mother brought total reality with her worried concern for her daughter’s welfare, coupled with a beautifully conveyed sense of foreboding. The Moth herself was played by Katharine O’Donnelly, who gave a truly magical performance, moving with strong, assured presence through the triple manifestations of a beautiful girl, an old crone and the ethereal presence of the Moth. An extraordinary achievement.
The play depends very fundamentally on visual effect, and the subtle, evocative set by Marvin Elliott and John Inglis established very well. A moment when the Moth stepped across to become part of a thicket of natural birch trees, taking on their green, leafy transience was truly magical. Much of the play’s assured sense of other-worldliness came from the skilled use of lighting and projection, master-minded by Arran Events.
Two further items completed the evening and were equally impressive. One was a highly evocative film about McLellan living and talking on Arran, with a lot of fascinating new material, and the other was a reading by John Sillars of A Drive to Lanark, one of McLellan’s stories about his boyhood in Linmill. John’s warm voice took possession of the lovely, rich Scottish words in all their humour and laconic realism. Nobody could possibly render them with more beauty and certainty, and somebody should record John reading the Linmill stories as a CD that can be bought with the handsome printed volume, for we stand at a point of linguistic history that may never return.
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