Stones in His Pockets

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    There are many writings on Ireland and the cinema. Most of them speculate on the influence of filmed images of the country on people's concept of Ireland abroad. Some writers are angrier than others about it; some are even resentful. In recent years however there have been a number of speculations on how the making and consumption of films like Man of Aran, The Quiet Man, and Ryan's Daughter have actually shaped the Irish people's image of themselves. Though they may dislike it when they are caricatured by foreigners, the Irish have often played fast and loose with their culture to the point of its own denigration when it is convenient.
    The production of Irish-themed films by American and British studios had important social, economic, and cultural repercussions, some of which are still felt. But how complicit were the natives who collaborated on these productions in the changes they wrought and what further questions does this raise about Irish society? At what point does the surrender of control become more than a matter for academic contemplation?
    Marie Jones' multiple award winning play, Stones in his Pockets, waltzes skillfully through the minefield of the theatrical and cinematic representation of Ireland and the Irish while addressing some of these issues. It takes place in a small rural community where the production of a major film has the local community fully mobilized. It is not the first film to be shot here. In fact one of the locals is one of the last surviving extras to have appeared in The Quiet Man itself. Some people are so blase about the production that they are willing to laugh about the outrageous accent of the leading lady and burst into hysterics during scenes depicting a bogus interpretation of Anglo-Irish history. The laughter catches in their throats however when a local teenager commits suicide, a victim of broken dreams and unrealistic aspirations inspired by fantasies about the American dream which do not apply to him.
    Though the play is funny from the outset, the scenario is not especially promising at first. Though well written and extremely well acted by a cast of two (Sean Campion and Conleth Hill), it basically presents a selection of cliched characters in a relatively familiar situation, throwing out jabs at John Ford and the twinkle-eyed Irish in equal measure. It takes a while before the deeper, darker material begins to surface. When it does, the play begins to turn the screws very effectively. It forces the audience to question its own reactions to what has gone before. It eventually comes full circle with the suggestion that its central characters, two extras, will themselves write a screenplay which will record the 'truth' about what has happened. That screenplay, we are told, will bear the title of the play itself.
    The play's thematic preoccupation with the schism between fantasies and realities stretches beyond the level of the 'backstage' antics. It is centrally concerned with the effects of dreams on individual people, the sometimes disastrous consequences of being unable to keep your hopes in the face of a social situation which does not lend itself to opportunity. There are some sad, touching moments in here, and Jones works them very well to deliver emotional punch. The overall balance of the narrative may be slightly skewed, but her points are clearly made and well taken.
    The laughter doesn't stop entirely, nor are the questions raised particularly original ones in the final analysis, but Jones' skill with plotting and characterization makes it absorbing and entertaining. Campion and Hill have plenty of rich, flavorful dialogue to work with in portraying a wide variety of characters. Hill is particularly memorable as the spoiled Hollywood actress, though he is also thoroughly credible as the Northerner who dreams of making it as a writer. Campion delivers some vivid performances of his own, not least of all the central one, which demands a slow but definite change in tone which matches the increasing seriousness of the play.
    The Gaiety's current production marks the return of this show to Dublin following successful runs on Broadway and in the West End. Ian McElhinney's direction is not always as imaginative as it could be. This kind of multi-character minimal-cast production has become more commonplace of late, and is suited to low-budget productions. Yet there is a sense that it could have been done even more effectively with a fuller cast. The transitions between characters are not always smooth, and there is relatively little use of the stage. The lighting is also unremarkable, a tool which could have been used to help clarify points of transition and keep the pace snappier. The most obvious point of comparison from the contemporary stage is John Breen's Alone It Stands, a show which demonstrates much greater directorial invention with equally limited resources (though admittedly with a larger cast).
    Luckily, none of this prevents the production from being a smooth, crowd-pleasing evening's theatre. It does not challenge the limitations of the form or even stretch the intellect overmuch, but it had the crowd on its feet on opening night and looks set to become another staple 'Irish' classic of the international stage. There is irony in this, and one wonders when the reflection and parody begin anew with Jones' work as its target.