“To be Irish is to know that in the end, the world will break your heart.” This quote from Daniel Patrick Moynihan readily applies to the dazzling production of The Ferryman. For all the dancing, singing, and telling jokes, at the heart is a terrible tragedy which we immediately sense will bear dire consequences. Quinn Carney (Paddy Considine), strong, affable, hard-working, lost his brother Seamus ten years ago. The man vanished from the face of the Earth, and although his widow, Caitlin Carney (Laura Donnelly) has been told of his sightings, Quinn knows the truth; Seamus is never coming back. The Carney clan is massive, with several generations inhabiting the same large stone house. Included is an intellectually challenged Englishman, Tom Kettle (Justin Edwards). There are seven boisterous children ranging from an adorable infant to a disgruntled teenager. But rather than blend together, each character remains a clearly delineated personality. All credit is due to playwright Jez Butterworth, director Sam Mendes, and especially to the wildly talented cast. Led by Paddy Considine and Laura Donnelly, the company doesn’t strike even one wrong note. Considine brings to Quinn such a depth and variety of moods that we’re on the edge of our seats eager to find out where he’s going next. He’s a doting father and husband, an indefatigable farmer who seems born to have the dirt of his soil under his fingernails; and yet, a fierce intensity underlies a barely controllable temper just below the surface. It’s immediately apparent that his connection to his sister-in-law Caitlin is palpable. And who could blame him? Donnelly is unaffectedly beautiful, and plays Cait with great heart and both unbounded joy and overwhelming sadness. When these two actors are on stage together, playing a game blindfolded, then dancing, the sparks fly. It’s harvest time, and the Carneys are joined by their boisterous cousins, the Corcorans, to bring in the crop. This is a time of feasting and celebration. But in Northern Ireland in 1981, there is no real peace. There are brave young men in prison who have staged a hunger strike because they can no longer receive the humanitarian privileges of being considered political prisoners. Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher has, in effect, declared open season on the incarcerated men; they are subject to horrendous deprivation and brutality, and those who have no use for British rule find this to be the final straw. Many of the young men, under the leadership of Bobby Sands, are dead or dying. Rural county Armagh, home of the Carneys, is a powder keg teetering on the edge of explosion. The unrelenting tension has led the IRA to execute anyone suspected of collaborating with the British; proof isn’t necessary, just the accusation. The body of Seamus Carney has been found in a bog, dead these ten years; there is little doubt how and why he got there. The prologue has shown us the Carney’s spiritual leader, Father Horrigan (Charles Dale), being threatened in Derry. He’s instructed to get the goods on Quinn, even to the point of breaking the sacrament of confession. It is he who brings the news of the discovery of Seamus’s body. He can’t keep from warning Quinn that the headman, Muldoon (Stuart Graham) is coming, bad news in the extreme. Finally getting the confirmation of what she’d always feared, Caitlin is grief stricken but decides not to tell her son, Oisin (Rob Malone), and to avoid disrupting the harvest festivities. Oisin overhears the conversation, and later that evening, when he and his cousins are drunk and indiscreet, he allows Shane Corcoran (Tom Glynn-Carney) to provoke him with tales of working for Muldoon. It is obvious no good will come of this. The incomparable ensemble shines with every nuance. Genevieve O’Reilly is heartbreaking as Quinn’s near invalid wife, Mary. She knows that Quinn and Cait have a special bond, and it pains her. With our modern sensibilities, it’s irritating that no one understands that having seven kids can take an emotional and physical toll on a woman, especially when the youngest has been conceived knowing that her husband wants someone else. Dearbhla Molloy is a fiery avenging angel as Aunt Pat. A lesser actor might be tempted to bluster, but Stuart Graham underplays Muldoon, and is all the more terrifying. Audiences have long loved Fionnula Flanagan; her wistful portrayal of Aunt Maggie Far Away and her sweet singing voice tug at the heartstrings. It is she who understands that the banshees, whose shrieking heralds the death of a family member, have come for the Carneys. The Irish, like all Celts, have a unique characteristic: the ability to be happy and sad at the same time. We undergo the same experience with this production. The Ferryman isn’t easy; just brilliant.
