It’s tried and tested – but a bit tired too
The radio advertisement for Moll calls John B Keane Ireland’s greatest writer. In the words of Huckleberry Finn, that might be a bit of a stretcher, but John B could compare with anyone at exposing the unlovely underbelly of Irish life hidden beneath acres of cosy charm. Best of all, he did it with humour and vivid language.
Moll is not in the same skinstripping league as The Field or
Sive, but it’s a gentle satire on the smug rural Ireland of the early Seventies, complacent priests and obsequious parishioners caught up in a little world that wasn’t too concerned about things happening outside the locality.
It’s not a full-blooded demolition job and is essentially played as a knockabout comedy, giving the main character a chance to show the potential of a female to knock a bunch of males into shape.
The newly appointed Moll is housekeeper to three priests incapable of looking after themselves: the complacently self-admiring canon (Des Keogh), the irascible Fr Brest, whose priestly duties interfere with his golf, and the dithering Fr Loran; all of them conscious of the social niceties that distinguish a humble curate from a canon or a monsignor, never mind a bishop.
But Moll, who knows how to play the field, is no pushover and is soon running the show, taking over the finances, schmoozing the canon and feeding the curates aus- terity sausages. She looks like a dry run for the later, more belligerant Big Maggie, obsequious when it suits but ruthless when it comes to money.
Her behaviour subtly underlines the status of women who devoted their lives to priests with no pros- pect of comfort in old age. There are good comic scenes and performances, but the play shows its age in places, looking at times like an old-fashioned TV sitcom. Des Keogh is a perfect fit for the smug canon, and Clare Barrett energetically devours the role of Moll.