Juno Boyle (J. Smith-Cameron) has the famous line that underpins the pervading sense of despair beneath the comedy in Seán O’Casey's Juno and the Paycock at the Gielgud Theatre: ‘What can God do against the stupidity of men?'
Comedy triumphs until tragic circumstances demand a change of mood
In a religiously obsessed country the Church, its clergy and the faith’s grip on the people are all pervading. It’s Dublin, 1922 and Ireland is in the midst of Civil War with families divided and the nation split over the independence settlement. No one can be neutral, but it’s the wives and mothers who must strive to make ends meet and keep families together. Smith-Cameron asserts herself throughout in the matriarchal manner of a woman who has endured and not been beaten down. Help from her husband Jack (Mark Rylance) would be welcome but she has married a drunken paycock (peacock) who struts around, or rather staggers, in the delusional world of having been a sea captain on the basis of a crossing to Liverpool.
The play is billed as tragi-comdedy, but under the direction of Matthew Warchus comedy triumphs until tragic circumstances demand a change of mood in the last quarter of the play. Meanwhile Rylance assisted by Paul Hilton (‘Joxer’ Daly) indulge in scene after scene of Chaplinesque vaudeville-style entertainment, even down to the moustache. Hilton plays the foil to Rylance’s commanding and excessive indulgence in the humour. That, combined with the heavy accents, wears thin before it culminates.
More of the tragedy and realism is borne by Aisling Kearns (Mary Boyle) and Eimhin Fitzgerald Doherty (Johnny Boyle); she pioneering the ideas of a new age and he bearing the physical and mental scars of the recent past. They along with the rest of the supporting cast get the tragedy/comedy balance right.
Rob Howel's set is broodingly dark at the level of the tenement room and ominously blood-red in the upper levels of the outside world. Overhead is a small glistening cross, for religion hangs over everything.
