This July marks a quarter of a century since the demise of Donal McCann, arguably the finest actor I’ve observed on the Irish Theatre landscape for over half a century. I am not the only one who specifically remembers his remarkable performances such as Frank Hardy in Faith Healer by Brian Friel, Thomas Dunne in Sebastian Barry’s The Steward of Christendom, and Captain Boyle in O’Casey’s Juno and the Paycock.
My introduction to his art was on a Dublin stage, acting as an O’Casey character, even before he masterfully took on those iconic roles. In 1966, I embarked on a journey to the newly established Abbey Theatre as a 15-year-old schoolboy, to watch The Plough and the Stars. I was immediately captivated by O’Casey’s language, his retelling of Irish history, and the passionate portrayal of the Young Covey by the fresh actor, who was criticising and mocking the devout and grumpy Uncle Peter. McCann was only 23 at the time, but in my recollection, he outshone the more experienced Abbey regulars in that performance including, Harry Brogan, Kathleen Barrington, Angela Newman, Vincent Dowling, Philip O’Flynn, and Aideen O’Kelly.
Unquestionably, even greater achievements were in line for him. Looking back, I consider myself fortunate and honoured to have been a spectator to the three performances that are invariably connected to his name; three of the more exceptional enactments within the archive of Irish Theatre. Apart from these memorable roles that have become part of theatre’s folklore and mythology, additional key roles in Irish drama were graced with McCann’s unique interpretation, including Boucicault’s The Shaughraun, Kavanagh’s Tarry Flynn, Friel’s Wonderful Tennessee, Friel’s rendition of Turgenev’s A Month in the Country, as well as Tom Murphy’s A Crucial Week in the Life of a Grocer’s Assistant. It’s a personal regret of mine that I missed his Estragon role paired with Peter O’Toole’s Vladimir in Beckett’s Waiting for Godot at the Abbey in 1969.
Remembering Donal McCann – a behemoth of the dramatic arts – by Gerard Smyth.
British English Response:
Let’s not just deem him as a splendid actor – such a label doesn’t do justice. His brilliancy far transcended the very definition of greatness. Any spectator graced by his performance emerged from the theatre profoundly aware that they had encountered the ultimate portrayal of whichever character he brought to life in that given performance.
Sebastian Barry aptly defined him as the “Monarch amongst Monarch of actors”. He was a distinctive and meticulous artist. Even before the current trend of casting distinguished actors, seeing his name plastered on the playbill was enough to attract a substantial number of spectators. Playwright Hugh Leonard made exceptional observations about him, stating that even an average play could be made extraordinary by him and transform good plays into magnum opuses under his influence. Leonard’s observations were accurate.
Surprisingly, McCann possessed an aura he would have likely refused. It seemed this aura balanced somewhere between the terrestrial and a distant realm. His performances were unmistakable due to his brooding gaze and captivating voice. His slightly melancholic and soulful voice resonated with poetic rhythm. He considered serving writing as the principal duty of an actor. The authors he endorsed were indeed lucky their eras coincided in Irish theatre history. The allure of his language delivery always appeared strikingly personal, and he had a knack for highlighting something beyond the written words.
No less formidable was McCann’s screen presence. Bertolucci, the distinguished Italian director, recognized his potency and chose him as an artist in Stealing Beauty. Despite this, he was neither successful nor particularly interested in acquiring the level of global recognition and fame that many contemporary Irish actors have achieved. His contribution to the television industry was significant, starring in hit series like Palliser novels by Trollope and James Plunkett’s Strumpet City. His film career was also noteworthy, appearing in an impressive total of 25 movies.
Renowned for his commanding talent, he left an indelible mark especially in his exemplary cinematic performance as Gabriel Conroy in John Huston’s interpretation of The Dead. This role significantly elevated the film’s reputation as an immaculate piece of art. He also lent his extraordinary prowess to many other films, such as the poignant adaptation of Sam Hanna Bell’s book, The December Bride. However, his natural creative inclination drew him to the theatre which proved essential to his artistic nourishment.
This remarkable artist passed away in 1999 at the age of 56, a mere four years subsequent to his breathtaking portrayal of Thomas Dunne in The Steward of Christendom, leaving his craft far from expended. Despite his likely modest objection, he veritably merits a position amongst the illustrious collection of portraits that grace our National Theatre, the birthplace of his distinct, extraordinary talent.