Religion takes a bit of a drubbing in The Saviour, Deirdre Kinahan’s brief (70 minutes) but impactful two-hander. The assault comes from the hands and, at first, from the bed of Máire (Marie Mullen, Tony for The Beauty Queen of Leenane), not that she intends it.
Introduced awake under the covers in the small town of Carlow, midway between Killarney and Kildare, while taking pleasure in cigarettes she oughtn’t be smoking, Máire is carrying on a jovial private conversation with her beloved Jesus. (Set designer Ciarán Bagnall has placed what looks like a fancy cross on the wall above her.)
Her Jesus, by the way, seems to be a somewhat hedonistic savior (switching to the American spelling), for he has apparently gifted the aging woman with an exciting and even libidinous previous night. Oh, yes, one aspect of religion implied in Linahan’s script is that the outspokenly committed religious frequently adhere to a comforting and quite personal view of it. Here, Máire, inhaling and exhaling jubilantly, has evidently spent her randy time with a randy man she calls Martin.
[Read Elysa Gardner’s ★★★☆☆ review here.]
Discussing her advanced years and the likelihood that such a romp was long past is volubly grateful to her savior. She goes on and on about it, giving Mullen the opportunity to present another of the astounding performances she has in her. (Most recently, she was, surprisingly, Mrs. Paroo in The Music Man revival.)
She’s so exhilarated, even titillated, that she exclaims – only in part – “And the sex!/Which was a surprise I can tell you./Because sex has always been a matter of mechanics for me./But you know that, don’t you Jesus./You’ve been with me long enough.”
Even before Máire speaks so openly from her bed of recent pleasure, Mullen does something clever. She looks as if she’s about to say something but doesn’t. Instead, she works her lips as if she’s trying to form the words but can’t yet decide what they should be. This has the immediate effect of riveting viewers. What is she trying to say? Inquiring audiences minds want to know. It’s likely, by the way, that director Louise Lowe had some influence on this sly maneuver.
Though Mullen cannily and movingly transforms this first phase into a tour de force – thereby justifying what could be considered a mite stretched in the writing– The Saviour isn’t a monologue. This is where the tilt at religion enters more pointedly. Just about two-thirds of the way in, as Bagnall’s bedroom revolves on a treadmill to a small kitchen and time for tea, Mel (Jamie O’Neill) arrives.
Mel is Máire’s son, ostensibly dropping by with a gift. It’s his mum’s birthday, and he has a doll for her, a doll to replace one she lost when a child and has often talked about sadly missing.
The birthday doll isn’t, however, what’s grimly on his mind. He’s there for a more pressing purpose: to alert Máire to something troubling. He and his sister, both of whom have children, are aware of his mother’s dalliance with Martin. Concerned, he’s checked up on the man and discovered a criminal history. Martin has prison time behind him for pedophilia. Mel is convinced that the interest in Máire is feigned, a cover for opportunities to spend time with the grandchildren.
Máire will hear none of this, the two of them sparring over any future she might have with Martin. That mother and son love each other isn’t in dispute. She tells him he’s always been her favorite of the three siblings, even though she shouldn’t have favorites.
Nevertheless, she refuses to end the happiness she’s found and, she’s convinced, that her benevolent savior has brought her. When Mel repeatedly grills her on whether Martin has ever spent time with the children alone, she repeatedly denies the possibility. Angered, Mel leaves, but Martin’s having had those disturbing chances hangs in the chilled air. (Also hanging in the air is O’Neill’s gritty turn.)
How Máire reacts in the remaining 70 minutes, how her religious convictions in regard to her beloved Jesus prevail – or don’t– won’t be revealed here. But Mullen’s superior performance as an aging woman holding tenaciously to the possibility of new romance is further enhanced, just as religion is kept from gaining any kind of upper hand.
The Saviour opened July 13, 2023, at the Irish Repertory Theatre and runs through August 13. Tickets and information: irishrep.org
