The Quiet Men

Morgan C Jones in The Quiet Men. Image uncredited.

***

There are those who maintain you should never put pineapple on pizza. One suspects Morgan C Jones would disagree. His charming The Quiet Men clearly in favour of combining disparate flavours. Jones’s loving homage to his famous granduncles, brothers Barry Fitzgerald and Arthur Shields, at once a nostalgic trip down memory lane and real world, revisionist history. Exaggerated, offstage, American pie accents, set alongside Hollywood news reels, evoking the cinematic escapism of the 1930s and 40s. Offset by hard hitting, lesser known truths exploding long held myths surrounding two of Ireland’s most beloved actors. Nostalgia and realism set side by side. A combination that really shouldn’t work. Yet, in The Quiet Men, it does. And does so delightfully.

Narratively it’s a clunky affair. A shuffling of scenes more than a story, with several scenes repeating earlier incidents later expanded on. Commencing with the first of many black and white projections. A bombastic priest lambasting his congregation with the fire and brimstone of DeValera’s homophobic Catholicism. A very different priest from those portrayed by Shields in The Quiet Man and Fitzgerald in his Oscar winning Going My Way. Fictionalised reality and the really real brilliantly contrasted. Punches never pulled as its two Hollywood stars, who suggest butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths, are revealed as having real mischief behind their playful demeanours. Abbey player tours replete with hedonistic nights, a profound love of the dangerous drop, secret and not so secret love affairs. Alongside darker moments. The demise of Abbey actress Una O’Connor, Fitzgerald’s attempt to hush up a fatal automobile accident, or his life long, same sex relationship with his stand-in, Gus, lived in secret. All offset by admiration for Shields’ genuine warmth acknowledged by Roger Moore, or Fitzgerald’s persistence in the face of Hitchcock’s dismissiveness, or Shields’ bravery at the GPO in 1916.

Morgan C Jones in The Quiet Men. Image uncredited.

Throughout, it’s not story so much as encounters that matter. The Quiet Men less a biography so much as a family photo album lovingly shared with a close relative. A warts and all confessional focusing on the all and not just the warts. Yet much falls through the cracks following Jones having whetted the audience's interest, leaving you wishing The Quiet Men had expounded more. Conall Morrison’s direction leaning into retro Hollywood stylings topped and tailed with a touch of meta-theatrical self awareness. The Quiet Men not tearing down its idols, but humanising them. Tearing down the lies of history, and the lies they lived, and sometimes fostered. Jones pulling off a remarkable feat in respecting his idols yet highlighting their failings. Making them infinitely more likeable and relatable. A true life exposé with a delicous touch of too ra loo ra loo ra, The Quiet Men is a soft spoken delight. Offering genuine enjoyment, especially for those old enough to remember.

The Quiet Men by Morgan C Jones, presented by Bewley’s Café Theatre in association with Company Sound Entertaining! Limited, runs at Bewley’s Café Theatre until March 14th.

For more information visit Bewley’s Café Theatre