Dublin Theatre Festival 2025: The Quiet Man

Aer Campion and Peter Gowen in The Quiet Man. Image by Paul McCarthy

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The Quiet Man. John Ford's 1952 movie that made national treasures of Maureen O'Hara and Barry Fitzgerald, and made John Wayne the King of Cong. Adapted by the legendary screenwriter Frank S. Nugent from a short story by Maurice Walsh, the tale of siblings Mary Jane and Red Will Danagher, the widow Sarah Tillane, matchmaker Michaeleen "Óge" Flynn and Paddy Bán Enright, renamed Sean Thornton in the movie, romanticised Ireland, the returning prodigal son, and wild, red haired women. Twee, nostalgic, Oirish, The Quiet Man was, and remains, a divine pleasure, guilty or otherwise. Much of that pleasure translating into John Breen and Michael Murfi's current stage adaptation. One that, despite lashings of charm, falls short due to patchy direction and longwinded writing. Delivering an uneven screenplay of daisy chain scenes that drags its heels and drags things out. Lightened by a riot of 'hup ya boy ye', screwball shenanigans.

Art Campion and Margaret McAuliffe in The Quiet Man. Image by Paul McCarthy

Those familiar with the movie will find it impossible not to make comparisons, against which Breen and Murfi’s version falls short. Even when making a conscious effort to view the revised version on its own terms, it still comes up short. Something of a quieter man, after a Donnybrook of Our Town theatricality, director Murfi settles for an excess of dialogue interrupted by outbursts of compositional and scenic inventiveness. In which true love's course never runs smooth. Sabine Dargent’s sheep heavy set focused around two enormous circles and clever props, Sinéad McKenna’s home warmed lights, Sinéad Cuthbert’s period costumes and Jack Cawley’s mawkish music all evoke the Halls Pictorial Weekly era with its twitching curtain morality. In which The Quiet Man shifts heavily into The Field territory, were it to meet a tamer The Taming of the Shrew.

Niamh McGrath, Gus McDonagh and Donna Dent in The Quiet Man. Image by Paul McCarthy

Yet where Nugent’s script exercised economy, Breen and Murfi don’t seem to know the meaning of the word. Mary Jane’s insistence on acquiring her dowry being repeated over and over completely overplays its hand. If an emphasis on the independent women of The Quiet Man proves far more rewarding, it comes at a cost. Donna Dent’s vivacious and strong minded widow Tillane, and Margaret McAuliffe’s lively, single minded Mary Kate Danagher, declining a frustrated feistiness in favour of calm authority, each upset the apple cart for looking like irate Mammy's reprimanding proud, petulant boys rather than women with men their equals. A passionate Peter Gowen as belligerent Red Will Danagher might have a vicious bark, but you don’t fear Will’s older dog bite. Meanwhile, Art Campion’s unimposing Paddy Bán resembles a gap year Horace Wimp having no idea how the real world about him works. Although both grow in real swagger, when the final showdown arrives, shabbily choreographed, it’s hard not to see it as a young buck beating up an older, physically weaker man rather than as a battle of equals. The only relationship you really buy is that of a brilliant Niamh McGrath as the widow’s maid, Marion, and Gus McDonagh’s as Danagher’s romantic right hand man, Michael. Others might have chemistry, especially McAuliffe and Campion, but there’s no spark. Sparks fly between McGrath and McDonagh, and then some, in a deliciously comic performance. Dan Gordon’s Michaeleen "Óge" Flynn, and Malcolm Adams worldly priest rounding out a hugely invested cast. Ably supported by players Siofra Ní Éilí, Shane McCormick and Alison Kinlan helping to bring it all home with a rousing finish.

Margaret McAuliffe in The Quiet Man. Image by Paul McCarthy

What carries The Quiet Man are its excellent performances. Yet if individually strong in terms of character, collectively the imbalance of power at the core of this adaptation often sees relationships struggle to gain credible purchase. Leaving an ensemble that feels like a first rate team whose manager needs to reconsider their tactics. Of which their MVP is, without question, Margaret McAuliffe. As Mary Kate Danagher McAuliffe exudes commanding presence and seductive authority enriched by a detailed, impeccably timed performance. Like O’Hara before her she’s red headed, impossible to tear your gaze from and possess genuine star quality that owns the stage. You might dismiss The Quiet Man as twee theatre for the nostalgia circuit, but there’s nothing wrong with that. Though some might wonder what that says about DTF? Still, despite structural issues, The Quiet Man is fun, entertaining and deeply pleasurable. In which McAuliffe shows genuine star quality.

The Quiet Man by John Breen with Mikel Murfi, based on the short story by Maurice Walsh, presented by Loco and Reckless Productions in association. With The Civic Theatre, runs at The Civic Theatre as part of Dublin Theatre Festival 2025 until October 12.

For more information visit Dublin Theatre Festival 2025