A triumph by cast and director

'The Shadow of a Gunman' isn't a great play. It is arguable that only because it was the first of O'Casey's efforts to be accepted by The Abbey is why it occupies a landmark position in the timeline of Irish theatre.

But it is a measure of the skills in Kilcullen Drama Group that they can carry an over-worded and occasionally pretentious script to a conclusion which fully merited the applause given at the end.



John Coleman playing the main lead, would-be poet Donal Davoren, surely has taken one of the most difficult parts in Irish theatre history. He is present on stage through the whole play, and his depiction of a wordsmith struggling with every comma and syllable of what appears to be pretty banal verse is truly excellent.

Even if there are times when you want to throw things to stop the flow of often tortuous dialogue inflicted by the playwright. O'Casey is celebrated for his language and characterisations, but this writer simply can't believe any Dubliners used words in this way at any time.

It's said there are elements of O'Casey's own life in the 'Gunman', and maybe the pile of crumpled pages under Davoren's desk reflects the difficulties the writer himself had in getting the dialogue to work.

Philip Cummins as the counterpoint to Davoren, street pedlar Seamus Shields, is a good foil to the prime character. Both are miserable men, but at least the pedlar gets out into the street sometimes. His whinging begins to grate early on, showing that Philip really does play into character, getting under the skin of us in the audience as much as he does his 'lodger'. There are conversational moments that suggest his own literary knowledge is considerably better than Davoren's, but at least he has no pretensions to be a poet himself.

Letitia Hanratty plays the key female role of the flighty and flirtatious Minnie Powell, attracted to the mistaken aura around the poet that he's actually an IRA man on the run. Though not in any way sympathetic to the Republican cause, Davoren suddenly finds that there are possible positives by being 'in the shadow of a gunman'. His sin of omission, in letting Minnie's hero worship continue for his own carnal gain, will lead to her destruction and a lifetime of guilt for himself and his pedlar friend.

Letitia is an accomplished performer, and gives us full measure of a Minnie both coquettish and brave.

'Gunman' is a play with many cameo roles, and initially we wonder why they're all needed. In truth, if the story was stronger they wouldn't be, but all do get to be links in the chain of the narrative.



So we have Siobhan Murphy as Mrs Henderson, a strident Dublin tenement woman with a steely determination to bring the problems of another tenant, James Gallogher, to the ears of the 'real' keepers of justice, the IRA supposedly in the person of Davoren. She's brilliant in the part, as is Fergal Sloan as the stooped and put-upon Gallogher.





Bernard Berney's depiction of the sycophantic Tommy Owens, who 'was never given the chance' to die for Ireland, is in the best tradition of our longest-established chemists shop proprietor.



Dick Dunphy does his absolute best with the persona of the landlord, Mr Mulligan, but the part as presented simply isn't enough to let him be as good as we know he is.



Vivian Clarke plays the enigmatic Mr Maguire, in what he reckons is the shortest role he has ever performed. Though crucial to the plot, Maguire's part as written is also limiting to the abilities of the actor.



We lose some of the characters after the interval, as they're only represented further by remarks from those who do come to stage. But we gain Adolphus and Mrs Grigson played by Maurice O'Mahony and Nessa Dunlea. Mrs Grigson is particularly entertaining, as her manner switches from bumptious to subservient depending on the presence or not of her 'husband'. Her performance when the Auxiliaries are searching the tenement, skittering from point to point on the stage, is like a hen trapped in the henhouse with a fox, and is a cracking one.



Those same Auxilliaries are represented by a suitably menacing Roy Thompson, who gives a convincing performance of how conquerors can act, whether as a Black and Tan in Dublin of 1920 or a Coalition soldier in today's Baghdad.



Space must be given to commend the typically excellent set dressing, which produced as crummy a men's bedsit as could ever be conceived.

Salutes also to the ancillary players in the foyer, entertaining the arriving audience. Sabina and Esther Reddy bring a very believable Moore Street to Kilcullen, Evelyn O'Sullivan's speech and drama pupils add authentic street children and their games. On the Gala opening night there was also a detachment of British 'Tommies' courtesy of 'The Lord Edward's Own' of the Monasterevin Historical Society & Re-enactment Group.



Backstage, front of house, and lighting and effects are all delivered by the usual suspects.

I've not given away much of the plot here, so go see the performance for yourself if you want the story. The show marks the return of John Martin to directing in Kilcullen and is well worth the visit.

It is a case of director and cast triumphing over O'Casey's shortcomings.

Brian Byrne.