For one evening, a virtual Fianna of storytellers descended upon the stage of the Netherbow Theatre to bring the old tales of the Ossian Cycle to life as part of Rewilding Scotland’s Epics, a project linked to Donald Smith’s recently published book of the same title. So writes Alena Shmakova for theQR.co.uk…
—Compared to The Columba Cycle, the first instalment of this project—The Ossian Cycle adopted a far more restrained soundscape: subtle rhythms played on the bodhrán by David Hughes, punctuated by the deep, yearning drone of the shruti box. Rather than overpowering the narrative, the music created space for the voices to take centre stage.
And what voices they were!
For anyone passionate about the linguistic heritage of Scotland and Ireland, the performance was a feast of English, Scots, and Gaelic in both its Scottish and Irish forms. Gráinne Holland, from Belfast, brought the lilting beauty of Irish Gaelic, grounding the performance in its ancient Irish roots. Sinéad O’Brien, originally from Limerick, added another layer of enchantment through her command of English. Her compelling rhythms and exquisite melodic phrasing cast a spell over the senses, making it easy to imagine stepping through the mist into the world of the gods.
Scottish Gaelic truly came into its own through the evocative storytelling of Martin MacIntyre. If Sam Heughan hasn’t convinced you that Gaelic is sexy, Martin certainly will; the way he speaks makes the language whisper, sigh, and dance around the room. David Hughes contributed a mischievous charm, while Donald Smith presided over the stage like an ancient Dagda: commanding and authoritative, even when stepping back from the forefront. Together, the ensemble functioned as a remarkably cohesive unit, giving the legendary heroes of Gaelic lore their full spectrum of emotion, character, and contradiction.
“Scottish Gaelic truly came into its own through the evocative storytelling of Martin MacIntyre. If Sam Heughan hasn’t convinced you that Gaelic is sexy, Martin certainly will…”
Reclaiming Ossian
However, the very title—The Ossian Cycle—casts the long shadow of James Macpherson’s eighteenth-century poems, works supposedly translated from ancient Gaelic sources that went on to become hugely influential on European Romanticism. Perhaps there is a subtle wordplay at work here: the title promises Macpherson’s romanticised Ossian, but the performance delivers traditional tales of Fionn mac Cumhaill and his Fianna, firmly rooted in the Gaelic oral tradition of Fiannaíocht. In doing so, the performance brings us closer to the living storytelling culture behind the Ossianic legend, rather than Macpherson’s literary reinvention of it.
The performance placed these stories firmly within the Scottish landscape. Historically, storytellers travelling across the shared Gaelic cultural world (Gàidhealtachd) naturally adapted and localised tales to their immediate surroundings. Thus, Oisín’s birth could be placed in Glen Coe, while Diarmuid’s fatal encounter with the boar took place at Perthshire’s Ben Gulabin rather than Ireland’s Ben Bulben. Such geographical shifts remind us that these stories were never entirely fixed: they travelled, evolved, and acquired new meanings as they crossed the Gaelic world, even if this transposition might leave those steeped purely in Irish lore momentarily disoriented.
Epic Ambition and Audience Endurance
The mixed Scottish and Irish ensemble wove a sweeping journey through the life of Fionn. Yet the sheer scale of this undertaking raises an interesting question: how do these stories function when presented in such an intensive format?
To experience the entire cycle requires a commitment of nearly three and a half hours of storytelling—or around four and a half hours with intervals. Compressed into a single sitting, the rapid accumulation of personal tragedy, violent death, and supernatural wonder can become emotionally overwhelming. And yet, there is a compelling counterargument. If we come to hear only isolated episodes, do we risk losing sight of the tragic arc of Fionn’s life? Moreover, the structure made endurance necessary: the second part ended mid-story, meaning that the audience had to stay for the third part to reach its resolution. This made the performance feel less like three independent instalments and more like one continuous epic divided into sections.
The performers did everything possible to maintain the audience’s engagement, introducing moments of humour and lightness into material rich in archaic symbolism, remnants of ritual practices, and the complexities of Gaelic social organisation. Nevertheless, I occasionally found myself struggling to follow some of the details. These stories are rooted in a world whose social conventions, mythological references, and symbolic language are not necessarily familiar to a modern audience. Although the performers offered some explanations, those coming to the stories without prior knowledge might easily find themselves overwhelmed. Even as someone with an interest in Gaelic history and mythology, I left with questions about certain episodes and their conclusions. Perhaps going a bit deeper with contextual explanation, rather than going wider to encompass more stories, would help audiences navigate the narrative without feeling disconnected.
I would also question the scheduling. Personally, I would have swapped The Columba Cycle and The Ossian Cycle in the programme. A four-and-a-half-hour performance on a Sunday morning, when audiences are more refreshed, might feel considerably more digestible than such an undertaking on the evening of a working day.
Yet, despite these demands, the epic scope brought to mind an unexpected parallel: Frank Herbert’s Dune. Both narratives unfold on an epic scale, using interconnected episodes to build a mythic world around a central leader. Intriguing parallels can be drawn between Paul Atreides and Fionn mac Cumhaill: heroes shaped by extraordinary foresight and destiny, navigating love, sacrifice, and political transition while bearing the burden of leading their people through a perilous world.
Both narratives also intertwine human drama with a deep sensitivity to the natural environment, connecting landscape, identity, and heritage. Donald Smith’s framing subtly highlighted this relationship, presenting ancient place-based wisdom in a way that speaks directly to a modern audience. Still, it raises a deeper question: how much does our ability to connect with these heroes depend on how their stories are selected, arranged, and retold?
“Yet, despite these demands, the epic scope brought to mind an unexpected parallel: Frank Herbert’s Dune. Both narratives unfold on an epic scale, using interconnected episodes to build a mythic world around a central leader. “
If Fionn’s eventual demise is understood through the chain of personal tragedies surrounding his love for Sadhbh (Oisín’s mother), the subsequent courtship of Gráinne and Diarmuid, and Diarmuid’s eventual death, there is perhaps another way of structuring the material. I would be curious to see these specific episodes presented as a more concise, self-contained epic. Their interconnected emotional narrative could offer a more straightforward route into the world of the Fenian heroes, with a clearer sense of cause and consequence.
Rewilding Scotland’s Epics: The Ossian Cycle offers a compelling opportunity to experience these tales not as silent museum pieces hidden in old books, but as living narratives carried by voice, music, and physical presence. Its greatest strength lies in the performers’ ability to make language itself an enchantment, drawing the audience into a world that feels both ancient and immediate.
I left admiring the artistry of the cast and with a renewed curiosity about the source material. Indeed, the performance left me wanting to seek out Donald Smith’s book and revisit the stories in written form to understand the details I may have missed. If, after watching The Columba Cycle, I was still debating whether to buy the book, The Ossian Cycle has made me considerably more enthusiastic about doing so—to explore these stories further and, above all, to hear them told the Scottish way.
Featured Image: The Ossian Cycle poster – image by Hester Aspland
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