Rex Ryan in The Monk. Image John Anderson Jnr ***** God loves fools and children. So it’s safe to assume She probably loves Rex Ryan. Even if you hate Ryan you have to love his childlike foolishness. It’s as if the expression “you probably shouldn’t do that” inspires Ryan to do exactly that which you probably shouldn’t do. Start a theatre company without funding. Open a completely implausible venue. Do both during Covid. Risk producing new works while avoiding safer options like adapted popular novels. Write, perform and direct a one man play about alleged criminal mastermind, Gerry Hutch, popularly known as The Monk. Probably shouldn’t do that. Might be seen to normalise, glamourise or fetishise criminality. Anyway, Hutch is notoriously private, some might say secretive. What kind of story would he agree to tell and who’d control the narrative? Ryan’s response; let’s find out. We should probably do that. And, again, experience proves him right. Ryan’s sensitive yet excoriating one hander, The Monk , serving up a searingly brilliant piece of theatre. Less a memoir so much as a character study, The Monk economically skates through a biographical highlight reel, stopping five minutes before a not guilty verdict in 2017 over Hutch's possible involvement with The Regency Hotel Murder in 2016. Growing up in Summerhill with an angel on his shoulder and a father who worked hard and drank harder, Hutch watches him die a slave to an empty, work hard dream. Mountjoy prison at fifteen a turning point as Hutch graduates criminal college. Leading to his street gang, The Bugsy Malones, followed by his incarceration and admittance to more crimes, though only ever those he was found guilty of. The two largest robberies in Irish history, Veronica Guerin’s murder, The Regency Hotel shooting all skated past with rote denials looking, at times, like the lady protesting too much. As likely to evoke, “just because they can’t prove it doesn't mean you didn’t do it,” as sympathy for a media maligned, property developer voicing a profound sense of injury. Throughout, with talk of a code, Hutch tries perpetuate the ordinary decent criminal myth. Anger at an alleged murderer’s execution by An Garda following a post office heist a case in point. While it raises genuine Ombudsman concerns, the Postmaster’s murder is spoken of like a fact of life that comes with the job. It wasn’t. It was a choice to rob and shoot him. Similarly the old trope that growing up in Summerhill the only real choice you had was crime. Shit happens, you respond accordingly but it’s never your fault. You’re never accountable. If that were all The Monk had to offer you’d rightly ask for a refund. But Ryan’s script refuses easy refuge behind prepared or rehearsed responses. Rather it digs deep through loops and repetitions to show where responses might be manufactured, and deeper still to reveal an embedded conditioning so normalised as to be believed unquestioningly. Revealing a complex man trying to wrestle his past, his stories, himself, the media, the State, life’s consequences into the story he wants them to fit into. Even as they refuse to allow him make easy sense of it all. Leaving you warming to his rugged charm, his no nonsense Dublin humour, his resilience, his love for his wife and family and his anger and pain at their being caught in the crossfire of his choices. Ryan’s brilliant performance juxtaposing granite strength with frail humanity whilst ensuring you never lose sight of the fact that you would not want to meet this man and his venomous rage in a darkened alley. Or a bright one for that matter. Rex Ryan in The Monk. Image, Beth Strahan When it comes to what informs Ryan’s script, alongside conversations with Hutch Ryan enjoyed an indirect connection given they were neighbours when Ryan grew up in Clontarf. If Ryan’s father was a famous celebrity forever in the spotlight, Hutch appears as the infamous celebrity forever trying to avoid it. Both of them the guy next door far from being the conventional guy next door. Seemingly ordinary people doing extraordinary things, scrutinised unfairly as fair game by being designated public figures for the media’s sensationalist glare. Ryan’s script tapping into this rich paradox with powerful results, interrogating whilst respecting its protagonist by way of a truly remarkable performance. Indeed, there’s a thin line between a performance and an impression of a living figure. The former interprets, the latter mimics faithfully unless exaggerated for satirical effect. Under his own direction Ryan’s immersive performance is utterly riveting. Initially, visuals support the ‘probably shouldn’t do that’ parallel. True to the time, yet looking like a forlorn Worzel Gummidge dressed for Aunt Sally’s funeral, Ryan, all dense beard and wild, straw hair, evokes The Count of Monte Cristo , or the prisoner depicted chained to a dungeon in old cartoons. Yet even when the eyes are all you see, they sear like burning coals. Get too close and they might incinerate you, pull back and you glimpse the hurt behind the anger. Additional depth and expressiveness revealed as the beard is removed and Ryan sits, stands or prowls the stage as he sets about answering an unseen interviewer’s questions, with a wonderfully awkward slow dance thrown in for good measure. John Anderson Jnr’s superb AV and Francisco Collette’s evocative SFX adding narrative links and emotional texture. Bill Woodland’s lights a masterclass in mood, both dark and light. Ciara Murnane’s caged set with auditorium screens transporting the venue, and experience, to a whole other level. With transitions executed with split second precision throughout. Productions as invigoratingly challenging as The Monk come along rarely. Ryan’s fearless script, invested performance and sensitive direction matched only by a tech team at the top of their game. And one unsung hero. When it comes to Glassmask the axiom behind every man there’s a greater woman is very much in evidence. Rex’s better half, Migle Ryan, producer, costumer designer and hostess buzzes with professional alertness, lending Glassmask’s front of house its inimitable charm as well as bolstering its behind the scenes solidity. Endlessly stylish and seemingly immune to fatigue, Migle fuses consummate professionalism with an all consuming work ethic. Rex may bask in the limelight, but Migle’s oft unseen contribution has ensured Glassmask’s much deserved success. Resulting in plays like The Monk , the kind of production that reignites your excitement for theatre. You may not re-evaluate your opinion of Hutch, but you might come away understanding some things better. The Monk shining a light on wider human themes embedded in its protagonist’s fascinating story and his manner of telling it, with the final image inviting a myriad of interpretations. Phenomenally powerful, Ryan’s play, performance and production serve up a contemporarily relevant masterpiece not to be missed. The Monk, written, performed and directed by Rex Ryan, runs at Glass Mask Theatre until June 21. Extra dates added June 26, 27 and 28. For more information visit Glass Mask Theatre