A brilliant spotlight on an under-remembered yet crucial chapter in Ireland’s past
Magpie, written by Andrew Cusack, and produced by Pigs Back Productions. returned to the Old Red Lion Theatre this month as part of the Camden Fringe, following a run in February. Set in 1923, Cusack’s play chronicles the tragic fate of two brothers, Patrick and Michael Murphy, caught on opposite sides of the divide in the wake of the 1916 Easter Uprising, WWI and the birth of the Irish Free State.
We meet Michael, a convicted murderer for the IRA, in his bleak cell in Kilmainham Gaol – the floor scattered with straw, the only furniture a thin mattress and a chamberpot filled with unappetising contents that the audience gingerly skirts past to reach their seats. In a cruel (and somewhat unlikely) turn of events, the Free State prison guard assigned to keep watch on him is his elder brother Patrick, played by Johnjoe Irwin.
This is a largely dialogue driven performance: the story unfolds in part in conversations between the two brothers, with consistently good performances from both Cusak and Irwin delivering a well-judged script, peppered with black jokes, sarcasm, brotherly jibes and childhood recollections. Irwin convinces as the robust and responsible elderly brother, coping via self-discipline, regime and what must be extreme compartmentalisation. This is in contrast to Micahel, a man breaking apart at the seams in his imprisonment; emotionally volatile, and frantic.
The most stark revelations are unveiled in Michael’s ravings to the emblematic magpie that sits outside his cell window – these are embittered, fundamentalist, guilt-ridden and self-pitying by turns, this plot device allows Cusack to deliver an excellent portrayal of a man unable to come to terms with the choices he has made, or the world which forced him to make them.
Sections of dialogue between Michael and Patrick, as well as Michael’s personal reflections to the Magpie, have a tendency to repetition, without reaching the depth or the poignancy that is needed to help build to the crescendo the performance needs ahead of its conclusion. There’s a huge range of complex issues the script encompasses, and yet I felt my understanding of Michael’s process of radicalisation, and indeed perhaps the characters’ self-understanding failed to penetrate any further than where it had been 15 minutes in.
Director Ronan Colfer makes a brief appearance as a Catholic priest sent to hear Michael’s final confession, in a scene that feels either superfluous, or underdeveloped.
There’s great potential here, and real value in spotlighting an under-remembered yet crucial chapter in Ireland’s past, and one that many of us still know shamefully little about. The themes are current, important; the script shows real talent, as does the acting. Yet, Magpie falls short in its current iteration. The foundations are here for an excellent piece of theatre, and I will be keeping an eye out for its next run.