Irish National Opera’s Least like the other at the Linbury: a horrific tale cogently told

“I’m not sure that ‘enjoy’ is the right word” was the phrase doing the rounds of the Linbury foyer ahead of Irish National Opera’s Least like the other. And indeed, the story of Rosemary Kennedy, eldest daughter of Joseph and Rose Kennedy and sister of JFK and Bobby, is horrific. It starts with Rosemary’s birth being delayed by the midwife pushing her back into the womb because the doctor is late and won’t collect his fee if the baby is born before his arrival, and proceeds through the clan’s hothouse upbringing in which the lovable Rosemary is too dim (at least by comparison with her exceptionally bright siblings) to satisfy her parents. The eventual result is that Joseph falls prey to the teachings of charlatan Henry Goddard; when Rosemary is 23, he arranges for a lobotomy which will leave her permanently incapacitated.

Co-creators Brian Irvine and Netia Jones pull no punches in telling the grim turn of events, using a cast of one soprano, two actors and a voice-over artist who render a libretto crafted from fragments of contemporary documents: Rose’s diary, Rosemary’s letters, various articles and many contemporary official or quasi-official teachings about mental illness. But Least like the other (the title comes from a question in a widely used intelligence test of the day) is no simple grief-fest; it builds an intelligent picture of the toxic confection of the Kennedy parents’ insistence that their nine children be perfect over-achievers, combined with the inhumanity and ignorance of the attitudes to mental illness of the time. To give one particularly shocking example: it was thought that “feeble-minded” men would inevitably become criminals and that women would fall into prostitution (“there is a clear link between low intelligence and sexual immorality”). Perhaps even more shockingly, homosexuals and sexually active single women could be singled out for being “cured” by lobotomy.

The four cast members shuffle between roles. Soprano Amy Ní Fhearraigh is mostly employed as Rosemary, excellent in using both voice and body to paint the portrait of a girl who is adorable, loving of dance and swimming, not at all smart academically (apart from anything else, the letters indicate dyslexia), but incredibly loyal to her parents in spite of the horrific pressure they exert on her. Ní Fhearraigh is just as virtuosic in singing Rosemary’s descent into mental illness. Voice-over artist Aoife Spillane-Hanks tells the lion’s share of the family’s view of things by reading excerpts from Rose Kennedy’s diaries in a voice that’s commendably deadpan given how ghastly her attitudes seem to a modern, liberal audience. Ronan Leahy and Stephanie Dufresne admirably fill out the narrative texture, acting a variety of the other characters.

Netia Jones’ designs – sets, costumes and especially the video projections – are highly effective. A clinical setting places us in the land of medicine; giant filing cabinets speak to this work being constructed from the archives, as do the typography of video projected text and the choice of archive images.

For the first two thirds or so of this 70 minute piece, Irvine’s music, played by a dozen members of the Irish National Opera Orchestra, somewhat bombards the listener with harsh dissonances. At the most intense depictions of Rosemary’s mental state, both the music and Sinéad Wallace’s lighting conspire to disturb us, combining sustained, high intensity pure electronic tones with strobe lighting, or having Ní Fhearraigh sing through a megaphone. But for the last third of the piece, the music becomes more nuanced, including a particularly lyrical spell depicting Rosemary’s calm when she is swimming. But the sound reinforcement was a serious negative; all the musicians were amplified, and the amplified sound had a constant hard edge of distortion, even in the lyrical passages, which became extremely wearing on the ears.

Least like the other tells a tough story which makes us question our own attitudes to mental illness and whether they have really progressed as much as they should since those dark days. It’s a well crafted, well staged and well performed piece. It’s a pity that the sound design came close to spoiling the ship for a ha’p’orth of tar.