The Cripple of Inishmaan

By: Eric Grunin

Let's get the most important thing out of the way first: this is an excellent production of a very good play, and you should all go see it. Don't be scared off by the tragic aspects, because in all likelihood you'll leave the theater overjoyed. Well, a little sad, too, but that's life, isn't it?

And that's kind of the point. These characters lead lives which are severely limited, poor people living on the small island of Inishmaan, off the coast of impoverished Ireland; and it's 1934, so we know (and some of them do, too) that things are going to get worse before they get better. People are laid low without warning by accident or illness or natural catastrophe. And then there's the case of Billy (Daniel Radcliffe), born crippled, with a left forearm either useless or dystonic, and a left leg bowed and unbending.

As a community they're accepting of their lot, using humor not to relieve them from their pain but as a kind of counterirritant. (Billy stands out as being unusually serious and bookish, not unreasonably.) But then one day word spreads that a director from Hollywood is coming to make a movie about life on the island. (This is based on an actual event: in 1934, director Robert J. Flaherty, who had a great success with Nanook of the North, came to the area and made the documentary Man of Aran.)

Sarah Greene and Conor MacNeill

It's this disruption of the status quo that sets the play in motion. "Cripple Billy" (as he is universally known) wants to try out for the movie. Also interested, if not as intensely, is Billy's unrequited crush Helen McCormick (Sarah Greene). Greene gives us an irresistibly adorable psychopath, sweet and salty and deadly whether stealing kisses or hurling eggs. One of her favorite targets (to his great chagrin) is her brother Bartley (Conor MacNeill), who spends much of the play in a state of frustrated obsession over various brands of sweets, and sometimes telescopes. These three young people enlist boatman Babbybobby (Pádraic Delaney) to give them a ride to where the film people are.

Although Billy's desperation, and the risk he takes, are the mainspring of the action, it's not all about him. His parents having drowned when he was an infant, he's been raised by his aunts Kate and Eileen (Ingrid Craigie and Gillian Hanna). They run an irregularly supplied general store, and to call them 'eccentric' does them less than justice: under pressure, Kate has a tendency to talk to strike up casual conversations with stones, and Eileen turns to an amusing secret passion that we will not reveal here.

One last major character ties all the others together. His given name may be John, but everyone calls him Johnnypateenmike (Pat Shortt). ('Poteen' is a kind of Irish moonshine.) He is the self-appointed town gossip, and throws himself into his work with a vengeance that would make Rupert Murdoch blush, shamelessly trading "news items"--some pure invention--for food and drink, then returning home to fight with his elderly Mammy (June Watson), who is doing her best to cheerfully drink herself to death as quickly as possible in spite of the horrified reproaches of the Doctor (Gary Lilburn).

Every one of these characters is good for a laugh, and gets lots of them, and each is a hairsbreadth away from tragedy. Author McDonagh does a brilliant job of navigating between the two, in several cases showing us that the same character trait which is laughable in one situation is horrible in another. Not that the play is perfect: Billy has a scene in Act 2 which is essential to the story but seems unavoidably dull, and one wonders if there wasn't a better solution. But that's a small flaw.

The ensemble acting is terrific, particularly the duets of the two dotty aunts, the brother and sister, and Johnnypattenmike and his abusive and abused Mammy. This is a transfer of a London production, so they've been working together for a while, but even so they're all superb and a pleasure to watch. All the balancing of light and dark referred to here is ultimately in the hands of director Michael Grandage, who also paces it perfectly. Already possessing a Tony for directing Red (2010) and a nomination for Frost/Nixon (2007), this may well add another statuette to his shelf.

The set design by Christopher Oram keeps the characters hemmed in just a bit, which is a good thing in this story of people who are stuck on an island and stuck with each other, and of course complemented by Paule Constable's sensitively varied lighting. While we're on the subject: putting this claustrophobic story in the relatively small Cort Theatre was a very good idea, and the producers deserve credit for resisting the temptation to put it in a barn so as to rake in a few extra bucks for a poorer experiences. They also deserve special commendation for this, found in the Director's Note in the program:

...we are delighted to continue the lower-priced ticket policy started in our London season two years ago by offering 10,000 tickets at $27 as par of our commitment to engage with as many young people as possible for our run at the Cort Theatre.

And now, finally, let's talk about Daniel Radcliffe.

He is wonderful in spite of being miscast: he hasn't yet found the inner stillness required to disappear into a character part, and lacks the sheer presence required to make this a star part (which would be bad for the story in any case). He's wonderful in spite of achieving only a modest simulacrum of how a man with Billy's handicap actually moves. He's wonderful in spite of not yet being the great actor that he will surely one day become. He's wonderful because he has--and he has this in spades--an extraordinarily radiant, desperate passion for simply being on the stage. Having seen him in Equus, How to Succeed (twice), and now this, there has not been a millisecond that he did not seem thrilled to be up there, with those people, in that moment, in front of us. When he's clearly working outside his comfort zone (as in the dance sequences of How to Succeed), we are touched that he cares so much about making us happy. He is a kind of accidental Prometheus, his fire is his gift to us, and we are fortunate that he takes his job so seriously.

The Cripple of Inishmaan (through July 20, 2014)

Cort Theatre, 138 West 48^th Street, Manhattan

For tickets, call (212) 239-6200 or visit telecharge.com

Running time: Two hours and 25 minutes, including one intermission.