“Celtic Nights: Spirit of Freedom” performed in Stephens Auditorium on Feb. 11 to an enthusiastic crowd.

Meet and Greet

The night began with a meet and greet in the Celebrity Café. The crowd was mostly older and had the opportunity to ask questions of three singers, two dancers, and one instrumentalist from the group.

Ciaran Olohan, identified by Rebekah Johanne as the history expert, explained the story of the 1916 Easter Rising.

Laura Callaghan also introduced the group to the four-string banjo.

“When it came from America it lost a string,” she said. The cast laughed.

They were comfortable with each other and with the audience, laughing frequently. One audience member asked Sarah Fennell if Riverdance would be part of the show.

“People have compared us to Riverdance,” Fennell said. “They said we’re better than them.” She gave a cheeky smile as the cast hooted.

The 1798 Rising: Act 1

Inside the main auditorium, there were blue and orange lights shooting out into the house, where the audience filled two-thirds of the main floor.

The show was introduced by a representative of the night’s sponsor. As the stage went black, a heavy bass note filled the air. The lights turned green, white and orange, the colors of Ireland. They swept the audience as a map of Ireland projected onto a screen at the rear of the stage. In front of the screen were steps rising up to a raised platform.

“A country steeped in history, steeped in opposition,” a voiceover said. The show would begin in 1798, with the failed rebellion lead by Father John Murphy and his army in Wexford, Ireland.

The cast was spaced evenly across the stage with their backs to the audience while the musicians played on the rear platform.

“A land that has never known freedom, and only the rivers run free,” Sara Byrne sang.

The lights took on elaborate, spinning shapes that projected onto the ceiling over the audience and onto the stage below the performers. It connected the audience and the performers by including them in the same environment.

After the first song, each cast member introduced themselves and where they were from.

The singers took a new formation and the dancers left the stage. Illustrations were projected unto the screen for “Minstrel Boy,” a song that includes the title of the show, “Spirit of Freedom.” Uilleann pipes played by Stephen O’Connor (described by Callaghan as Irish elbow pipes) opened the song as downward spots silhouetted the singers.

The singers were not particularly active on stage but rather moved strategically to add tension and emotion, emphasize lyrics or portray the story. At certain points the performers were more loose, and you could tell they were having a good time.

“Mo Ghile Mear” was the first dance, with the ladies skipping around each of the female singers in turn. The male dancers then took control of the stage, leading the crowd in clapping. The group linked arms during their dance, ending with a “Woo!” as they threw their arms in the air in a high V.

Leanne Phelan took the stage with a high kick. Spirals projected on the floor of the stage drew the audience’s attention to the feet of the dancers. Each dancer’s shoes have microphones on them. Unlike Riverdance, which sometimes performs to a recorded track, the taps heard tonight were live.

The dancers frequently combined sassy arm movements, twisting their wrists or placing their hand on their waist.

The next song was introduced as President Kennedy’s favorite Irish song. “Boys of Wexford” was sung to him by a boys choir when he visited Ireland in 1963. The gentlemen took the stage, including the dancers and instrumentalist, who sang behind the vocalists.

“Dress myself in man’s attire and fight for liberty.”

Ian Drew introduced the next song, explaining that a common Irish symbol was the idea of men carrying bags of barley. When soldiers died, it was even said that from their graves, barley grows.

Kaleidoscopes of warm colors cast the stage in the tones of sunset as graphics of a barley field blowing in the wind were projected onto the screen. Emily O’Dwyer, in a black dress and blue shawl, was accompanied by what the an audience member described as “the Narnia flute,” referencing the books by C.S. Lewis.

“Harder still to bear the pain of foreign chains that bind us,” O’Dwyer sang.

O’Dwyer has a warm, rich timbre that I found to be almost maternal in its comfort.

The song was about her true love’s death, and the last note echoed over the audience as a hand fell into the barley on screen. At the same time the lights swept over the house, putting the audience in the barley along with the woman and her dying love.

Props to the lighting director. The lighting was dramatic and matched the power of the voices, dancers, music and story. Celtic Nights didn’t do things in half measures. If you’re going to feel, you did so deeply and intensely – and then the instrumentalists came to rescue you.

The guitar (Callaghan), banjo (O’Connor) and fiddle (Ben Gunnery) circled each other, layering lively melodies one on top of the other. Hoots from the crowd accompanied toe tapping, and strobe lights emphasized the fast-paced rhythms. The instrumentalists could only be described as having a good ol’ time, grinning as they taunted each other.

The male vocalists, now in sweaters, brought black boxes onto the stage for “Rocky Road to Dublin.” In a previous interview, Drew had mentioned it was one of his favorites to perform.

The men left Johanne standing alone on the platform, bathed in soft light. The green and orange lights returned as she sang, “I stood by your Atlantic Sea, and sang a song for Ireland.”

Johanne’s voice is that of an Irish diva in the best sense of the word – and she’s Scottish. Whatever the Orkneys are doing, they’re doing it right.

Purple lights accompanied “Boolavogue” as illustrations of war were projected. Nik Parks stood on the steps, while the other male vocalists sat on a box on separate sides of the stage. The student next to me wondered if the dim orange light could represent a fire they were sitting around.

In the lyrics and literature performed the Irish often described their situation as oppression or slavery. “Boolavogue” tells the tale of the 1798 Rising. It ends with the unspoken vow that the fight is not over, although the rising was unsuccessful.

The female dancers returned in one-shouldered, red-sequined dresses. The male dancers wore black vests and black pants, changing their shirts to match the women. During the dance, the women went en pointe, in which dancers stand on the very tips of their toes as their feet are fully extended (which can be quite painful). At intermission a woman behind me commented on her surprise to see them do so.

Olohan took the stage after the dancers, barefoot in what Irishmen would have worn in 1798. He explained the use of the pike, the weapon of choice at that time. He was joined by the full cast, singing “Rising of the Moon,” ending with raised fists and pikes in battle position.

The rising was described as “unsuccessful, but left ripples in the Irish consciousness.” Those ripples would lead to the Easter Rising of 1916.

“Our battle cry is freedom,” the cast sang in the final song of the first act, “Come Ye Men of Erin.” The performers hit beautiful chords in the middle of the deeply moving song. It created its own ripple in time, a moment where you have to re-establish your reality.

The power behind their voices, the music and the story joined together felt like the track behind an epic movie scene.

The pacing of the show was interesting. Powerful songs would build your confidence, and then a ballad would come along and steal your breath. But the dancers or instrumentalists quickly followed to pump everyone back up.

The Easter Rising of 1916

A voiceover listed the men who planned the 1916 rising. The Irish flag was shown on the screen for the first time. The vocalists were once again isolated in private pools of light, facing off in opposite directions. The men were in full black, and the ladies had navy gowns with elaborate silver beading covering the bodices.

“Something has ended, something beginning, this is the circle we are living,” they sang.

The song had the same crescendo and empowerment as one you would hear while the credits rolled at the end of a movie. Indeed, the strong vocals of the men and shimmering vocals of the women rolled over the audience.

The story, however, was just beginning. Five of the vocalists moved to the rear of the stage, where Olohan read a section of the proclamation for Irish independence. Their heads bowed as O’Dwyer sang. Her voice echoed over the audience as photos were shown from the Easter Rising.

While the illustrations had been helpful in the first act, the photos were much more powerful. It placed the rising in a time much more familiar, a century ago. 

It felt as if Olohan was channeling the collective voice of the men who fought as he joined O’Dwyer in “Foggy Dew.” Their photographs appeared behind him. Soft strobe lights accompanied the beat as they sang the battle tale. A few audience members wiped away tears.

“Their names we’ll keep.”

Byrne took the stage in a swan-colored dress which appeared cream or light grey at times. She sang “Michael Collins,” the song of “Ireland’s proudest son.” Byrne’s voice is youthful and sweet. It was a level of heart-wrenching only achieved by mixing sweetness with sadness (think “Christmas Shoes.”)

A pipe solo followed. Nothing can cry quite like uilleann pipes. O’Connor was joined by Callaghan, and the cheerful guitar quickly turned the mood jubilant.

To continue the joy, Kevin Goble and Gavin Boyle took turns joking with each other, showing off in their dancing and leading the crowd in call-and-response rhythms. The audience laughed at their shenanigans. The dancers even pretended to have power over the lights through their feet.

Phelan, Fennell, and Rachel Hunter were not impressed and promptly showed the men who was in charge. They went en pointe. (Sorry, guys. You lost.)

After lulling the audience into a false sense of security, Parks took the stage to sing “Grace,” the song of Joseph Plunkett, a rebel leader, and Grace Gifford. They were married moments before his execution. Johanne joined him in a red dress as Gifford but did not sing. The stage was also cast in red.

“There won’t be time to share our love,” he sang.

Parks was the first performer that evening to make me cry. His voice managed to etch itself onto my heart, perfectly embodying both heartache and nobility.

All three male vocalists did an excellent job standing in as the voices of the men who fought for Ireland’s independence. Olohan vocalized the strength, ideals and purpose of the men. Drew vocalized the soul, as if the men themselves stood before us. But Parks vocalized the heart, leaving pure feeling behind him.

Parks left Johanne alone on the stage as a voiceover said, “Present arms. Aim. Fire.”

Strobes flashed as the gunshots echoed.

Johanne led the all of the women in “Woman’s Heart.” Plenty of great vocalists can solo but struggle to share a chorus, but not these women. Their strength only multiplied as they did.

If men get the valor of war, women get the grief. The women ended with hands on each other’s shoulders, offering support as a rose projected behind them.

It was after this powerful moment that Gunnery walked out to sit on the edge of the stage. He played a few notes and sang “Rock me momma like a wagon …” He stopped and laughed with the audience.

“I’m not gonna sing,” he said. “If I sang I’d starve for a living.”

“My name is Ben. This is a fiddle,” Gunnery said. “You’re probably wondering what a man named Ben with a fiddle and an English accent is doing in an Irish show.”

Gunnery grew up with a French mother and an Irish father in London. He played the “Jaws” theme after announcing this, to laughs from the audience.

Gunnery performed what he called “an Irish stew.” It was a mix of music including bluegrass, Bach, and Irish reels. He wandered through the crowd for part of his solo. At one point he hit a note I’m sure the oldest members of the audience couldn’t even hear, although neighborhood dogs might have.

Gunnery knew what he was doing. He butters the crowd up and makes you fall in love with him, then plays for you. He needn’t have bothered, we’d have loved him anyways. That man makes a fiddle do things even the fiddle didn’t know it could do. I swear he made the lights dance, although the lighting designer might want to take credit for that.

After Gunnery’s entertainment the men sang “Ye Auld Triangle.” It covers the rising’s leader’s time in jail, when they would be woken by a triangle.

The cast then did an unplugged session, which Johanne called “the part of the show where we bring Ireland to you.” The cast sat on the edge of the stage to sing three tunes, including a famous lullaby. The audience was invited to dance for “All God’s Creatures,” although Stephens Auditorium wasn’t built with dancing space in mind.

Johanne, now in a white dress, sang “There Were Roses,” to return us to the story a half century later, during the violence in Northern Ireland.

“The tears of a people ran together,” she sang. “Another eye for another eye till everyone was blind.”

The dancers returned for their final piece clad in purple. The history of the failed rebellions and the trouble in Northern Ireland could easily have been a sad show, but they didn’t wallow and they didn’t whine; it wasn’t a pity party. Instead, Celtic Nights celebrated the strength of the spirit of freedom living on.

A video of an eagle soaring joined with the words “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” It felt very American – except for the orange, white, and green lights projecting over the audience.

“Our spirit won’t die. It lies where the eagles fly,” the vocalists sang.

They finished to a standing ovation from the crowd.

The show closed with “Danny Boy” and an encore of “Whiskey in the Jar,” two very popular Irish songs.