Enda Walsh once described Girl as the “driving force” of Once and the one who “would change everything”. That is precisely the feeling this production captures. As someone deeply attached to the original film and especially to its bittersweet anthem “Falling Slowly”, I arrived instinctively comparing stage and screen. In Once, Girl’s energy bursts onto the stage, and it quickly becomes clear that this is not simply a theatrical recreation of a beloved film, but a production with its own pulse and emotional identity.
Girl is undeniably the production’s centre of gravity. From her first line, she shifts the energy in the room. Her sharp confidence, bold physicality, and quick wit not only unsettle Guy but establish her as a commanding presence throughout. The production’s visual language reinforces this vitality. Small flashes of brightness in the costumes lift the otherwise restrained palette, while Natasha Katz’s lighting moves fluidly between warmth and cooler blue tones. Even Billy’s slightly flamboyant attire contributes to a world that never slips fully into melancholy. As a result, the show’s humour emerges naturally rather than feeling artificially inserted into a sombre story.
Once does not stray far from a familiar romantic trajectory: a chance encounter, a healing companionship, and an inevitable bittersweet farewell. What gives the musical its force is not the originality of its plot, but its emotional sincerity. The songs carry what the characters struggle to articulate aloud, nowhere more effectively than in the two performances of “Falling Slowly”.
The first performance arrives shortly after Girl and Guy meet and is played with remarkable restraint. Beginning with Girl alone at the piano before Guy quietly joins on guitar, the duet unfolds with hesitant intimacy. The sparse arrangement leaves space between the two characters, allowing connection to emerge gradually.
By the final performance of “Falling Slowly”, that restraint has gone. The ensemble surrounds Guy and Girl as uncertainty gives way to emotional release. What once felt tentative now carries the weight of inevitable separation. The song no longer expresses possibility, but the painful recognition of something meaningful that cannot last.
Bob Crowley’s set design deepens this emotional progression. The stage, enclosed by a semi-circular bar evoking a traditional Dublin pub, is lined with vintage mirrors whose softened edges blur reflection and, perhaps, memory. The large central mirror becomes especially powerful during “Falling Slowly”. In the first performance, it amplifies intimacy as Guy physically closes the distance between himself and Girl. Their reflections seem to gently reinforce the emotional connection unfolding between them. By the finale, however, they stand almost back-to-back, facing opposite directions. Only fragments of Guy remain visible in reflection, as if their dreamlike connection can go no further and must finally surrender to reality.
The live musical performance is anchored by an accomplished ensemble cast. Lydia White gives Girl both charisma and emotional depth. Her performance in “The Hill” is a particular highlight of the evening, grounding a stage that is otherwise constantly in motion. It is a slight disappointment that Ivonka, Girl’s daughter, does not appear on stage, as her presence might have added further emotional weight to Girl’s sense of responsibility.
Dylan Wood’s Guy is quieter and more withdrawn. Wood captures a man whose life and music feel suspended until Girl’s arrival. While occasionally uneven in pace, he nevertheless conveys Guy’s emotional stagnation and gradual reawakening with sensitivity. Charlie West’s Billy injects sharp comedic energy, particularly in a microphone mishap that briefly disrupts the stage’s equilibrium to humorous effect. Allison Harding’s Baruška is poised and subtly commanding. Sean McLevy’s Da provides a gentler counterpoint, with understated paternal warmth that broadens the emotional world of the production beyond its central relationship.
Crowley’s set never overwhelms the performers, instead leaving space for the live musicianship to remain central. Katz’s lighting design is equally effective, shaping both physical and emotional space with remarkable subtlety.
This production of Once opens the 75th Pitlochry Festival Theatre season on a fittingly heartfelt note. It does not celebrate grand romance, but a quiet triumph of intimacy and mutual healing, however fleeting.
Musical
Book by Enda Walsh
Music & Lyrics by Glen Hansard & Markéta Irglová
Based on the Motion Picture Written and Directed by John Carney
Directed by John Tiffany
Cast Includes: Dylan Wood; Lydia White; Allison Harding; Sean McLevy; Loren O’Dair; Charlie West.
Until: 27 Jun 2026
Running Time: 2 hours 25 minutes including a 20-min interval
Photo Credit: Tommy Ga-Ken Wan