IN LATE 1951, as his film Quiet Man was being edited into final form, director John Ford sent cautiously optimistic telegram to his friend Lord Killanin in Dublin: The Quiet Man looks better better. There is vague possibility that even Irish will like it. (1) Though Quiet Man would be enormously popular in America, its portrait of rural Irish life in 1920s striking chord of deep sympathetic response among moviegoers of all religious ethnic backgrounds, Ford's hopes for similar response in Ireland were in vain. It was very popular here at first, Killanin would recall years later, and there were strong objections to line from May Craig, `Here's fine stick to beat lovely lady'. (2) Initially, as Killanin's remark suggests, it was film's portrayal of tempestuous relationship between Sean Thornton (John Wayne) Mary Kate Danaher (Maureen O'Hara) that met strongest resistance. To this day, says Margaret Niland, local woman who was there when Quiet Man was filmed in County Mayo, still don't like that bit where he drags her across fields.... That scene is so nice because I think it does Irish down. (3) Today, it is QuietMan's picture of premodern or preindustrial Ireland--an older society of dowries, cattle fairs, donnybrooks--that more often draws objections of Irish commentators. A common move is to portray Ford's image of Ireland--a never-never Golden Age, as Harlan Kennedy describes it, a time of simple pastoral integrity (4)--as mode of cultural imperialism, with Hollywood perpetuating various Irish stereotypes whose origins lay in long centuries of English political domination. Along with outright falsity, remarks James MacKillop, sins attributed to Quiet Man include sentimentalism, condescension, cliche gimcrackery. (5) Taken together, Kennedy argues, such qualities add up to view of Irishness that is not less patronizing oppressive than collar-and-lead colonialism long exercised by Britain. (6) In recent years, as Irish Studies has attempted to make place for itself in Anglo-American postcolonial discourse driven by identity politics, this has become more more standard line. Thus, for instance, Lance Pettitt's recent Screening Ireland approaches Quiet Man from perspective deriving less from film study or Irish history than from postcolonial theorizing of writers such as Homi Bhabha, Gayatri Spivak, Ania Loomba, Edward Said. In Ireland, sense that American cinema represents threat to Irish cultural independence is nearly as old as republic. We cannot be sons of Gael citizens of Hollywood at same time, wrote one Irish nationalist in 1930s. (7) This is spirit in which so much contemporary Irish filmmaking has defined itself specifically in opposition to Quiet Man's image of Ireland as, in Luke Gibbons' phrase, a primitive Eden, rural idyll free from pressures constraints of modern world. (8) truth about Ireland is therefore to be sought in bleak social reality that Quiet Man's pastoral idyll hides from sight, as in what Terry Byrne describes as mind-numbing desperately depressing existence of characters in Joe Comerford's Traveller (1978), (9) or rural poverty portrayed in Pat O'Connor's Ballroom of Romance (1982), or squalor of Dublin squatter society--drug addicts, dealers, prostitutes, pimps--in Cathal Black's Pigs (1984). Even commercially successful film like Roddy Doyle's Commitments (1991) is taken to provide modicum of truth in what might be called Corpo flat realism of scenes taking place in Dublin's public housing projects: an alternative body of imagery, as Gibbons calls such material, that can be seen as addressing the realities of Irish life. (10) As Gibbons' phrasing suggests, his sympathies are on side of new Dublin realists against what he describes as straitjacket of stereotype. …
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