Читать книгу The Irish Are Coming - Ryan Tubridy - Страница 13

21 April 1995–1 May 1998

The show’s … not about paddywackery clichés. It’s essentially a cartoon. It’s demented. It has its own world and as much integrity as The Simpsons.

– Dermot Morgan

There was a time when mockery of the Church in Ireland was an offence deemed strong enough for placard-wielders to stand outside a cinema or theatre decrying the contents of the offending film or play (one they had likely not seen). The Life of Brian was banned in Ireland for donkey’s years and, more recently, the placards were out for The Last Temptation of Christ. In fact, where I work in RTÉ, the men and women of the placard have been busy throughout 2013 in all weathers decrying the presence of too much sex on our television screens. It’s a democracy, they are perfectly entitled to their placards and opinions; in fact, I quite admire their passion. At least they’re standing for something. In Father Ted, there is a famous scene that sees protestors waving signs, among them one that says ‘DOWN WITH THIS SORT OF THING’. It’s odd then that when Father Ted appeared on Irish television in 1995, there wasn’t a placard to be seen. What happened?

It seems Irish comedy had come full circle from Dave Allen. When the sitcom about the three priests living with their housekeeper on Craggy Island first screened, most people didn’t particularly care that the Church was being mocked; not a question was raised about it. Twenty years earlier it simply wouldn’t have been countenanced, but attitudes to the Catholic Church had changed. First of all there were the stories about priests who had secretly had children, then it moved into deeper and more terrible waters with the news that some priests had been abusing children, so I suspect the powers that be felt they weren’t in a strong position to criticize. Unfettered by protest, one of the funniest sitcoms of the twentieth century came on screen to wide praise and much applause. Essentially, Father Ted did for the priesthood what Fawlty Towers did for the hotel business – made us not take it too seriously.

It all started when Irish writers Graham Linehan and Arthur Mathews got together to brainstorm some ideas for comic sketches and characters. Both had form: between them, they had worked on Alas Smith and Jones and The Fast Show as well as writing material for Alexei Sayle and Harry Enfield. They came up with the idea for a comic documentary with each episode focusing on a particular Irish ‘type’ and the first episode featured a scheming but loveable goon called Father Ted. They pitched it to Hat Trick Productions and Channel 4 in the UK, and the response was that they didn’t want the mockumentary but they’d love to see a sitcom about Father Ted.

Off the boys went and dreamed up the idea for the show we all know and love. Three priests have been sent to Craggy Island in penance for past misdemeanours and they live there with their housekeeper, Mrs Doyle, who keeps trying to give them cups of tea and trays of sandwiches. The storylines tend to involve Father Ted getting himself into embarrassing scrapes then digging ever-deeper holes as he attempts to lie and cheat his way out of them. The script was good but it needed exactly the right cast to make it work. Fortunately, they already knew who they wanted in the lead role …

For Irish readers of my generation, 80s television comedy was defined and exemplified by one man: stand-up mimic and actor Dermot Morgan was a staple on RTÉ television. Our parents roared laughing at him throughout the decade of Thatcher and Haughey while just a few years later, nerdy students like myself sat by the radio to hear him on Scrap Saturday, Irish radio’s version of Britain’s Spitting Image (a show we could and did watch in Ireland too). Morgan had a way with voices and he hooked up with quality scriptwriters to sharpen the wit. The show poked fun at the great and the good to the point that it disappeared mysteriously one Saturday morning, never to be seen again. Morgan was gutted and called the decision to axe it ‘a shameless act of broadcasting cowardice and political subservience’. I was gutted too. It had mercilessly lampooned our political leaders and public figures in a way that’s very important in a democracy and nothing immediately stepped into the breach.

Morgan slogged long and hard on the comedy circuit in Ireland where one of his characters, Father Trendy, a ‘cool’ and ‘with it’ priest, remained a constant favourite. That’s why, when the producers of Father Ted called in 1994, he was more than ready for the challenge and stepped into the lead role with aplomb.

Father Dougal, the bumbling priest who is not overburdened with brains, was played by Ardal O’Hanlon, while the role of Father Jack, the potty-mouthed alcoholic, went to Frank Kelly. My favourite character, Mrs Doyle, was played by Pauline McLynn with such exceptional comic finesse that her catchphrases were soon in use nationwide.

‘Will you have a cup of tea?’

‘No thanks, Mrs Doyle.’

‘Ah, go on go on go on go on go on go on go on go on go on go on …’

‘I won’t have a cup right now.’

‘You will you will you will you will you will you will you will you will you will …’

She’s every Irish mother of a certain vintage, constantly bringing in trays full of sandwiches that no one is ever going to eat, and I love her.

Top actors and comics queued up to be part of the joke: Graham Norton played the high-camp Father Noel Furlong in three episodes and Ed Byrne played a teenager mocking Father Ted on a telephone chatline. The show had that buzz right from the start and everyone involved knew it was going to be big. The first series quickly acquired cult status when it was broadcast on Channel 4 and it is still pretty much shown on a loop on RTÉ 2. Awards followed: in 1998 Father Ted got a BAFTA for Best Comedy, Dermot Morgan got one for Best Actor and Pauline McLynn got Best Actress.

Two more series were filmed before Morgan announced that he would be leaving the show for fear of being typecast. One night after the final day’s filming on the final series, he and his partner, Fiona, were hosting a dinner party in London when he collapsed and died of a heart attack at the age of forty-five. He remains one of the more poignant ‘what-ifs’ in his contribution to stage and screen on these islands.

The show couldn’t go on without Morgan (although an American production company is filming a US remake with priests set on an island off the New England coast). Like Fawlty Towers, it would never have time for the jokes to grow tired so will always retain its cult status.

Father Ted is probably the purest fusion of Irish and British comedy. Commissioned by Channel 4, it had an all-Irish cast, spent much time filming in the beautiful County Clare and had Irish writers. We would have complained loudly if the British had written a sitcom about three corrupt, scheming, totally unreligious priests. In the same way as only gay people can call themselves queer and only black people are allowed to use the ‘n’ word, we are the only ones allowed to mock ourselves in general but priests in particular. And the comedy in Father Ted is as Irish as it gets: very funny, very clever and spiritually satirical, with its post-ironic political incorrectness.