Random thoughts from home
Emma Doran produced 'good craic on the Mall' in 'Emaculate'
Emma Doran doesn’t simply enter the acting space. This diminutive and sparkly comic bounces onto it in a jerky, angular hip-hop as if she owns the place. Which she probably does after about 10 seconds. Because all three floors are with Emma from the off.
Well, why wouldn’t they be? Ninety-five percent tonight of the Royal is female and under forty and they’ve come to hear and diss the dirt in their shared experience of womanhood and motherhood. Her style is gossipy and therapeutic. ‘Any news or goss’ she asks in that confidential tone that women love to use. Grunting male responses are not exactly what this Tallaght comic wants. She doesn’t want a warm-up either and describes it in her own blunt way as ‘all ride and no kissing’. It’s a bluntness that appeals to an audience who would be terrified to be that candid.
‘Are you two together’? she asks two sisters. Their third sister bought the tickets as a present but doesn’t like Emma herself. ‘Bitch’ declares Emma when the sisters inform her that she prefers Deirdre O’Kane. ‘Yep…bitch all right’. She wonders aloud if one of them is due? When she finds out that she’s due in eight weeks, Emma consoles her with ‘no goin’ back now…shame really! A girl from Carlow who works in Dublin has a boyfriend in Wexford for the last two years and they meet at weekends. ‘So’ gasps Emma ‘how does that work?…what are you going to do?...is he good-lookin?...what colour eyes has he?’ Doran has that whispery you-can-tell-me-I-won’t- breathe-a-word approach that the girls adore.
Emma calls her gig ‘Emma Doran Emmaculate’. It’s a portmanteau – a new word that combines and blends the sound and meaning of immaculate with Emma. She got the idea from sixties men whose highest praise of a woman was that her house/child/self is ‘always immaculate’. It’s an invitation to her to reflect on her own blended style of parenting and compare it to her mother’s. Her mother’s quest for the ‘immaculate’ home is great fun. She’s got a husband for over 50 years who is determined to steer her ship of perfect state off course. ‘He’s eating the biscuits, Emma…I have to hide them…he’s in the toilet again for ages’. She’s always wanted a downstairs loo and now she’ finally got one. BUT he’s using it. He usually waits until the Domestos is sprayed and, then, he’s in like a bullet in need of discharge.
When Christmas Day and the visitors arrive for dinner, mother whispers to her, ‘he’s even done a poo in the downstairs loo…I can smell it!...it’s an act of violence…don’t tell your brother’.
Still…nobody loves you like your mammy. Emma’s mum never misses her gigs. She gave her roller-skates for lockdown so she can roller-skate onto the stage and she loves Emma’s version of her. Classic.
Emma’s got a daughter who is a huge disappointment. Too ‘booky’. Never smokes or drinks and is currently doing a PhD in psychology. She fears that she’s part of her daughter’s research. I’m guessing she’d want more than the requisite 90,000 words if Emma is part of the dissertation.
Other heads are in Emma’s firing line. Brothers who do nothing for their mothers – not including Emma’s by the way, school concerts, WhatsApp groups for teacher, and SNA’s end-of-year pressie that are always headed up by a self-appointed Caoimhe who begins every communication with ‘hi goiiiyyyyys’ and former partners' girlfriends who are better-lookin’ than me.
Good craic on the Mall.
