Beauty Queen of Leenane
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Date Reviewed: 13/11/2025
A beautifully designed, directed, and performed show in a comfortable theatre, The Beauty Queen of Leenane is brought to life superbly by a cast of talented actors. The sets are elegantly designed and styled, and even my partner commented on their authenticity. They have just the right amount of specificity and charm to bring the whole piece together. The setting contributes perfectly to an atmosphere of suffocating domesticity and emotional decay.
The show is built around a mother-daughter relationship. Their performances are sharp, layered, and painfully believable, needling and pushing one another without ever losing the undercurrent of bleak humour.
I found myself comparing it to Tracy Letts’ August: Osage County, which in a similar way uses the family dramedy to generate both laughter and viciousness. McDonagh, however, has created a much more claustrophobic and sparse play. Maureen and Mag have already had all the fights and screaming matches. There is no open humour here, only a thick bitterness and resentment that permeates every encounter. Both characters strip back their greatest weaknesses and verbally clash to score points over one another in their endless conflict.
The male characters function more as drivers of the plot but do an excellent job at it. Ray and Pato operate onstage to provide information and motivation to the characters. On a thematic level, they also hint at Ireland being a place devoid of opportunity, something McDonagh has his female characters agree with. Maureen is trapped in her county, in her house, but cannot imagine a way out of it. Fantasies of England, Manchester, Boston, and America are just that - fantasies. Mag henpecks and bullies her daughter into remaining.
The Beauty Queen of Leenane stands as a marvellous study of generational trauma, loneliness, and mental illness, let down only slightly by its writing. My only real issue with the play lies more in the script than in its performance.
Maureen’s emotional instability feels underwritten and is used crudely as connective tissue for the plot rather than explored with genuine empathy. Her sudden outbursts, memory lapses, and savagery appear without clear motivation. Her behaviour, while disturbing, seems understandable given the abusive and manipulative relationship she endures with her mother. While I do not condone her actions, Mag feels like the true source of the dysfunction rather than her daughter’s mental illness.
This raises the question: what is McDonagh really saying? Are we destined to become our parents? Can we blame genetics for our failures, or does resentment simply fester until it consumes us? What do we truly owe those who raised us? The play offers few definitive answers, and its message can at times feel muddled and contrived.
Still, I adored this production. It thrives under the guidance of a talented director and an exceptional cast. I urge everyone to see it - a fascinating and unsettling play brought to life by some of Melbourne’s finest performers.