The Dissection of Expectation: Martin McDonagh and the Diasporic Perception of Irishness

Martin McDonagh exists upon a cultural threshold. He was born in London to Irish parents and was raised in a neighbourhood which exposed him to Republican ideals and the music of The Dubliners, and he spent every summer with his extended family in Connemara. Clearly, he cannot be truly classified as entirely English, nor entirely Irish. For these reasons, his critics have struggled to label him. Calling McDonagh an Irish playwright insinuates a childhood steeped in the religious and nationalistic traditions of the island, while the title of English rejects the undeniable influence of upbringing. The third option, Anglo-Irish, is most commonly avoided due to its association with a venomous history of plantations and Protestantism. Whatever McDonagh’s official artistic identity may be, it is clear that he was held an arms-length away from both communities, unable to truly immerse himself in either. However, McDonagh’s seemingly fractured self is not a drawback, nor is it something the playwright has shied away from. He sees himself as “half and half and neither”, which is good when the “ambiguities are more interesting than choosing a strict path and following it” (“Nowhere Man”). There are clear “creative benefits of the vacillating outsider who observes with an ambiguous gaze”, as McDonagh is able to “speak artistically about the motherland without being immersed in its national prejudices” (Moore). Through The Beauty Queen of Leenane and The Cripple of Inishmaan, McDonagh attempts to explore the definition and perception of Irishness, not only within the country, but the wider diaspora, demonstrating a striking difference between expectations and reality. In this way, McDonagh is able to show the evolution of Irish cultural identity, and the tension within it, as constructs from the past and present, domestic and foreign meet.

The fetishization of the West and Irish culture, more generally within the diaspora, is highly common. Children of Irish emigrants, or even those more distantly Irish, are often accused of being Plastic Paddies due to their attachment to inauthentic Irish tropes. Essentially, they claim Irish identity without having a firm understanding of Irish culture. When Critic Aidan Arrowsmith wanted to articulate this point, he cited Irish novelist Joseph O’Connor who declared that “the whole world longs to be oppressed and post-colonial and tragically hip and petulantly Paddy, and we Irish just want be anything else” (237). The image of a suffering, religious, and Gaelic Ireland has been so romanticised by the Irish diaspora that they have developed a “dangerous nostalgia” (O’Connor 237). This sentiment seems most accurate in relation to radical, Republican violence during the Troubles, which McDonagh dissects in The Lieutenant of Inishmore. Throughout his oeuvre, it is clear that McDonagh has strived to deliver the image of an Ireland as seen by her dysphoric descendants, not in an attempt to perpetuate stereotypes, but rather in an effort to expose their inaccuracies. This examination then feeds into the larger debate of identity in general, raising concerns of how it is created and maintained.

McDonagh sets his collection of Irish plays within the West of Ireland. This placement is significant as the West is often portrayed as the home of authentic Irish culture. Under the Gaelic Revival, it was promoted for its use of the Irish language, and historians often point to it as the last stronghold against the English invasion. Traditional Irish writers, such as Yeats, Joyce, and Lady Gregory, based works and characters there, heightening the region’s sense of literary wonder. The legacy of the West is one of the past, portrayed as a pocket of the world preserved from the touches of modernisation, still steeped in the resentment of colonisation, Fintan O’Toole once called it “the edge of globalised culture” (“Introduction”). This reality is hinted to by the generational discord within both The Beauty Queen of Leenane and The Cripple of Inishmaan, the young and the old fight over the perception of reality and control of the future. Both within Ireland and outside it, the image of the West is one of cultural pristine, it is where the best of Irish tradition is stored. It is clear that this perception is willingly maintained by the diaspora, as when Maureen is asked by a friend what her home looks like she shows “a calendar with a picture of Connemara” (The Beauty Queen of Leenane 31). It is clear that the idealised version of this place is what she would like to display and remember, rather than the complex reality. By McDonagh setting his plays here, he taps into the heart of the preconceived notions of the Irish dysphoric audience. If there was a physical location which was seen as embodying Irish dysphoric identity, it would be the West. McDonagh allows the viewer to feel comforted by initially confirming their expectations. He allows for stereotypes of Ireland to fill the mind of the viewer before he viciously rips them away. In this way, he is able to heighten shock and horror, but also more directly address inaccuracies of perception. This dynamic is reinforced in the early staging of the The Beauty Queen of Leenane, which “deliberately played to the familiar, to segue into the unfamiliar” (Grene). Garry Hynes, co-founder of the Druid Theatre, where the play premiered, stated that she wanted the audience to initially feel as though they were watching a work by conventional Irish playwright John B. Keane only to realise an hour later that they were “watching something completely different” (Grene).

McDonagh is quick to dismantle preconceived notions of his Irish setting, firstly within the home. The Beauty Queen of Leenane confines the entirety of the play to a traditional Irish cottage, clad with a “crucifix and a framed picture of John and Robert Kennedy” (1). Clearly, McDonagh wants a diasporic audience to feel at ease; references are understandable and blatantly obvious. However, the picturesque locale is quickly defiled, hosting scenes of vulgar language and violence. A similar dynamic is established in the The Lieutenant of Inishmore, where a docile cottage bears witness to a slew of murders. The kitchen, a traditional symbol of the Irish mother figure, nurturing and diligent, is sullied with Mag’s urine. A detail which would appear to be a dishonourable homage to the “kitchen sink Irish realism of the 1950’s” (“Introduction”). In this way, McDonagh allows the Irish domestic space to take up the mantel of Irish identity, subtly deconstructing it and in turn its larger associations.

The Irish language, which is so proudly flaunted and associated with the West, is disregarded as useless. Mag, in a moment of frustrating realism, which speaks to the economic troubles of the 1990’s and the larger concept of the begrudging post-colonial Anglo-Irish relationship, reminds her daughter that speaking Irish will get her “nowhere” especially not England (The Beauty Queen of Leenane 3). This facet of identity and cultural pride is labelled as little more than a redundancy, unfit for the modern context of a globalised Ireland. With the further association of Gaelic with Irish nationalism and the Republican movement, McDonagh is able to symbolically disregard many diasporic tropes, in addition to some commonly held within Ireland itself. Language more generally within the plays seemingly rests upon the same threshold on which most cultural identifiers reside, a mix between authentic and fictitious Irishness. While critics debate whether McDonagh’s dialogue can be attributed to habit or artistic decision, it is clear that the dialect presented is neither false nor realistic. Some markers of accuracy can be heard, but some are noticeably absent, leading to a sort of hybrid, a “strange and artificial form” (Jordan 41). McDonagh cites the speech pattern of his uncles as inspiration for the works, suggesting that the language within the plays is also a diasporic construct, a hazy and exaggerated memory of actuality (Feeney 26).

Gender stereotypes, which are meant to be affirmed within the Irish homeland, are hastily disposed as well. It is suggested that the diaspora views Ireland as a place of “reaffirming masculinity”, where manual labour and a connection to the land are still possible (Jordan 40). This is alluded to in Billy’s cinematic monologue when he states that his body is “noble and unbowed” (The Beauty Queen of Leenane 52). However, many characters within McDonagh’s works are impotent, namely Pato, fundamentally undermining his manliness. Additionally, women often dominate men physically, as Helen does with virtually every male character in the The Cripple of Inishmaan. This is taken one step further in The Lieutenant of Inishmore by the character of Mairead, who discards female identifiers, cutting her hair short and wishing to join a paramilitary group leading to Padraic’s initial rejection of her. Arguably, Mairead has a “fluid gender identity” which is then further complicated by Padraic’s hesitant desire for her. Together these details allude to an instability of identity in general within the work (Russell 20). Interestingly, critic Richard Russell also ties male sexual desire to their desire for land, hence why Ireland is often referred to using the female pronoun (20). However, sexual desire is only ever demonstrated by Helen and Jim Finnegan’s daughter, fundamentally questioning this stereotypical trope.

The role of religion within the Irish identity is also hastily thrown away. While the Church is often seen as integral to the foundations of Irish society, none of McDonagh’s characters show any regard or sentimentalism for the institution. Characters throughout The Beauty Queen of Leenane struggle to remember the name of their local priest, frantically switching between Father Welsh and Father Walsh (9). Members of the clergy are also described as being crude, violent, and philandering. Father Welsh is accused of punching someone in the head, an action apparently not uncommon among older clerics, and an unnamed priest has fathered a child with an American (Beauty Queen of Leenane 10). The Cripple of Inishmaan takes this dynamic to another extreme. Since the play is set within 1934, the audience would expect an even stronger sense of religious devotion, and somehow the play has even less. Cripple Billy finds a washed up Bible on the shore of the island, and proceeds to simply throw it back into the water. Throughout the play, he is presented as a lover of books, and yet the one book he should care about the most, he simply disregards. Helen and Bartley also consistently allude to instances of clerical abuse. Helen is unafraid to advertise the systemic nature of the problem, stating that she has often been groped or flashed. However, her presentation and response to the issue takes on a farcical dimension, softening the serious subject matter. Helen’s biting dialogue and strength allow her to be seen as capable of taking care of herself, and her misfortune is able to become a comedic joke. The most genuine moment of concern is raised by a hasty response from Bartley, who when asked if he has ever had “his arse groped” responds: “not me arse, no” (The Cripple of Inishmaan 14). His vulnerability and young age momentarily create a somber mood, but this is quickly erased by the fast-paced dialogue. These instances also function as a further questioning of gender stereotypes and the deconstruction of traditional masculinity. Henceforth, McDonagh is able to separate the concept of Irishness from religion, but also directly point to the issues within the Church. McDonagh’s Irish Catholicism is not one of moral devotion, but rather the opposite, he is exposing the terrible reality underneath.

The construction of Irish diasporic identity within McDonagh’s works is undoubtedly tied to the media. Film, television, and tourism, are definitive mentions within both plays. There is a sense that McDonagh acknowledges the power of these medium, believing they can fundamentally impact an individual’s perceptions. When Maureen fabricates her story about catching Pato at the train station, she says they kissed out the window “like they do in films” (Beauty Queen of Leenane 50). Clearly, films are more impressive and impressionable than reality. Maureen also states that she would like to see Ireland on television, a moment which critic Jan Cronin pointed to as a “playful nod to the marketability of Irishness” (194). The expectations of Irishness within cinema are demonstrated within Billy’s screen test in scene seven. The monologue opens with a reference to the “wail of the banshees”, a clear allusion to Irish myths and legends (Cripple of Inishmaan 52). This is accompanied soon after by the singing of “The Croppy Boy”, a ballad of a doomed rebel (Cripple of Inishmaan 52). There are also mentions of enduring a “century’s hunger and lifetime’s oppressions”, references to the famine and colonisation, which attempt to create an image of defiance and survival in the face of English barbarity (Cripple of Inishmaan 52). These details will quickly be criticised by Billy in scene eight, who re-enacts them for comedic effect and emphasises their ridiculousness by stating: “I’ll be getting me shillelagh out next” (Cripple of Inishmaan 63). Critic Mark Phelan stated that the scene demonstrated “how nationalist myths of the ‘wild’ west have been reclad and reified by the nostalgic idealisations of the Irish diaspora” and humour is generated from the “collision between Hollywood fantasy and local reality” (247). In addition to the scene delivering a direct commentary on the international perception of Irishness, it forces the audience to question their own understanding as many are momentarily tricked into thinking Billy’s monologue is legitimate. The scene also causes a questioning of the play itself. It becomes clear that there is little to no difference between the portrayal of the Irish within this ridiculous film and the stage production. This begins to raise the question: can Irishness even be defined or displayed?

The clearest attack on the diasporic construction of Irishness is the use of the film Man of Aran in The Cripple of Inishmaan. Man of Aran was a documentary produced in 1934 and directed by Robert J. Flaherty, a member of the Irish diaspora in America. It set out to capture the authentic lives of people on the Aran Islands, and it becomes a powerful framework for the play itself. Significantly, the film is quickly discredited by the natives of Inishmaan. In a particularly poignant scene, Helen states that there is nothing more to see but “wet fellas with awful jumpers on them”, undoubtedly a reference to the commercialised Aran sweaters marketed towards tourists (The Cripple of Inishmaan 60). The grand triumph of the movie, the capturing of a shark, is revealed to be nothing more than “a tall fella in a grey donkey jacket” (The Cripple of Inishmaan 60). It would appear that this documentary could not even capture the correct essence of nature, merely a poor reproduction. Significantly, it is also stipulated that the sharks are rarely, if ever, off the coast of the Aran Islands, seen “mostly off America” (The Cripple of Inishmaan 60). These instances demonstrate an overarching theme of the work “every act as a re-enactment of no original” (Russel 19). The rejection of the Man of Aran by an equally fictitious ensemble of Aran Islanders highlights the difficulty in affirming any form of identity. The work gets caught in a loop, just when authenticity is within one’s grasp, it recedes further. This revelation is more drastic than McDonagh’s others, it would suggest that Irishness is not just misappropriated by the diaspora, but is inherently abstract. If “every form of identity is a performance,” everything is eternally derivative (Russel 19). This is reinforced by Billy pretending to have tuberculosis in order to leave the island, only to be diagnosed upon his return. He has become what he imitated. This is further cemented when Billy reveals that he was not cast as a cripple in the movie in favour of “a blond lad from Fort Lauderdale” (The Cripple of Inishmaan 66). Importantly, the man cast is not crippled, but he is a better actor. Again it would appear that comprises of authenticity are made for convenience, but also necessity. This point would only be reinforced by The Cripple of Inishmaan itself, whose main character is disabled, and yet the part is traditionally played by an able-bodied actor.

It is clear that McDonagh attempts to create an Ireland and an Irish cultural identity which is romanticized, exaggerated, a mythic form of home. Throughout his plays, the playwright begins to discredit this view, insinuating that reality is never close to the fantasy. This is most clear when Pato describes his longing for Ireland when he is away, but when he returns the island is never quite what he expected or remembered, “it isn’t there I want to be… but I know it isn’t here I want to be either” (The Beauty Queen of Leenane 22). McDonagh pushes this examination even further in The Cripple of Inishmaan, forcing the audience to see the fragility and evolutionary nature of identity. It is clear that reality cannot be captured by foreign cameras and that the diasporic perspective is one of ridiculousness and stereotype, but McDonagh is also suggesting that it may be impossible to truly capture an authentic representation of culture.

Works Cited

Arrowsmith, Aidan. ‘Genuinely Inauthentic: McDonagh’s Postdiasporic Irishness’. The Theatreof Martin McDonagh, ed. Chambers and Jordan, 236–45.

Cronin, Jan. “‘if I was Irish I’d be Crying by Now’: Irishness and Exteriority, Doyle’s Deportees and the Irish Plays of Martin McDonagh.” Irish Studies Review, vol. 21, no. 2, 2013, pp. 188–202.

Feeney, Joseph. “Martin McDonagh: Dramatist of the West.” Studies: An Irish Quarterly Review, vol. 87, no. 345, 1998, pp. 24–32. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/30091859.

Grene, Nicholas. The Oxford Handbook of Modern Irish Theatre. Oxford University Press, 2016.

Jordan, Eamonn. From Leenane to LA. Irish Academic Press , 2014.

McDonagh, Martin. “The Beauty Queen of Leenane.” Martin McDonagh Plays: 1, Bloomsbury, 2015, pp. 1–60.

McDonagh, Martin. The Cripple of Inishmaan. Methuen Drama, 1997.

McDonagh, Martin. The Lieutenant of Inishmore. Bloomsbury, 2013.

Moore, Coinín. “In Bruges: Cutting Edge of an Irish Diaspora.” Mise Au Point, no. 5, 2013.

O’Toole, Fintan. “Introduction.” Martin McDonagh Plays: 1, Bloomsbury, 2015.

O’Toole, Fintan. “NOWHERE MAN.” The Irish Times, The Irish Times, 26 Apr. 1997, www.irishtimes.com/news/nowhere-man-1.66581.

Phelan, Mark. “‘Authentic Reproductions’: Staging the ‘Wild West’ in Modern Irish Drama.” Theatre Journal, vol. 61, no. 2, 2009, pp. 235–248. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/40587391.

Russell, Richard Rankin. Martin McDonagh: a Casebook. Routledge, 2012.