“Friday’s children would be fattening like seals across the sand, on their way to class. Black liquorice teeth. Loving and giving under the whalefeed of the clouds. He had to teach.”
Friday 17th June 1904. Stephen Dedalus wakes up in a Dublin Martello tower, hungover but with winnings in the pocket of his borrowed trousers. Dedalus goes about his day. Settling scores and debts. Pursued by the ghosts of his mother, Hamlet, and now a man called Leopold Bloom who has woken up with plans for him. The young poet weaves hopes and ideas into burning wings of ambition. Can he elude death in the passages of books?
McCabe’s iconoclastic tribute to James Joyce’s masterpiece gives right-of-reply to his self-portrait, Stephen Dedalus. Stephen and Bloom, cut from Joyce’s ego, become cultural types pasted into Digital Age storytelling.
“On a housing estate called ClonduffSiberia deep in the middle of nowhere really, the body of a horse named RottingDead lies buried in the garden of a house that no family has moved into yet. The body of this horse does not have the head attached but it does have a heart, and its heart is lonely and filled with longing.”
John and his Mother, grieving for his Father, move to ClonduffSiberia. John meets Angela at a youth club disco and she introduces him to kissing, Bowie and cigarettes. Suddenly a girl goes missing and the answer seems to lie in the grown-up world of love and loss John is struggling to navigate.
Pursued by, vivid ghosts, anxious visions and ne’er-do-wells, John takes us with him as he finds himself, in the wrong place.