Fringe 2025 – Our Brothers in Cloth ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Edinburgh Reporter

a day ago

In 2005 the Irish government published the Ferns Report on its inquiry into allegations of child sexual abuse in the Diocese of Ferns, County Wexford. The report looked solely at the responses of the Roman Catholic church and the civil authorities to the allegations. The report was highly critical of the diocesan bishop, the police and the local health authorities.
Twenty years later, Irish writer Ronan Colfer brings his play Our Brothers in Cloth to the Fringe. Colfer's own family was deeply affected by clerical child sex abuse, which resulted in the suicide of a close relative.
Our Brothers in Cloth focuses on the devastating impact of clerical abuse on one family, the aftershocks that reverberate from it, and the refusal of a very traditional rural community to accept the truth. In recent years we have seen how women have suffered at the hands of the Catholic church (Small Things Like These, The Magdalene Sisters, The Woman in the Wall); Colfer looks instead at the abuse of young children and the ways in which the perpetrators were protected, as much by lay people's reluctance to face facts as by the authorities' unwillingness to tarnish the reputation of the most powerful organisation in 20th century Ireland.
The Kinsella family is mourning its younger son, Christopher, who has taken his own life. His brother Alan (Jake Douglas) burns with grief and guilt; when Chris first attempted suicide a horrified Alan just gave him a good telling off.
Since Chris died, the much loved parish priest Fr Mulvaney has moved away, replaced by Fr Seamus O'Donovan (Ronan Colfer); when Alan's friend Mark (Michael Lavin) comes home from London for a visit, we find out why. From then on Alan is on a mission to expose Mulvaney's guilt, but he faces fierce opposition from his mother Martina (Rosalind Stockwell), who can't accept that any priest could do such things. There's been a reported case down in Kerry, and that priest was exonerated by the church; this is all just more lies and rumour.
When Mulvaney is finally arrested, Alan thinks many people will come forward – but none does. Douglas powerfully conveys Alan's isolation and despair; he has nowhere to turn, and even when he speaks to his former girlfriend Siobhan (Oli Fyne), she, while sympathetic, is doubtful. Fr Mulveney was such a good man, such a compassionate man, so helpful. He even set up the work scheme that Alan's lately been attending. Despite this, Siobhan and Alan's nightime meeting is a welcome and tender interlude in what is otherwise a tense and rightly shocking hour. Their love for one another is evident; she's the only person in the town who listens to him, despite her misgivings, and the chemistry between them poignantly exposes Alan's vulnerability.
Into all this mess comes Fr O'Donovan. He wants to help the Kinsellas; he's holding meetings that Martina's making Alan attend to try to get him off the drink. He offers Martina counselling. He preaches sermons about the evils of alcohol, and quotes, without irony, from Proverbs about not believing deceitful people. He tells Alan that the Bishop will now investigate the accusations against Mulvaney – then ruins it all by adding,
'Father Mulvaney will be found to be innocent.'
When Fr O'Donovan tries to defend the church, to separate it from the alleged abusers, Alan brings the full force of his rage down on the priest,
'This church been nothing but a scourge on Ireland!'
Whilst every word Alan says rings true, this part of the play did feel a little didactic. I wasn't sure that it fitted Alan's character; yes he is angry and frustrated, but he's also an unemployed labourer, and this speech sounds more like that of an academic.
Nevertheless, the central relationship between Alan and his mother is completely convincing at all times. Martina is scandalised by her son's attack on her beloved church; already broken by Chris's death she relies on her priest to get her through – where can she turn if the church itself is culpable? There is a touching scene at the end when she slips back into her memories of the boys' early childhood; as she talks through a particular event a look of uncertainty crosses her face. Was she wrong after all? And if she was, what does that mean for her family, her faith and her life in the small community she's always known?
The acting in Our Brothers in Cloth is faultless. Jake Douglas is outstanding as Alan, but every character is played with nuance and skill. Traditional music is used to separate scenes, emphasising the rural and traditional nature of the town, and perhaps also its reluctance to question its long held views. The simple set design works well; having the non—speaking characters in some scenes remain seated at the back of the stage is a very effective way of implying their unwilling involvement. They can try to pretend they don't know what's happening, but they're still present in the moment, they can't escape.
Another excellent touch is the loud ticking of the clock, which becomes particularly noticeable when Fr O'Donovan wants to talk to Alan about Chris. In the silence that follows, the clock is like the ticking of a time bomb; when Alan's rage explodes, I was so shocked I jumped in my seat. It's the silence of a nation, about to be shattered forever.
Our Brothers in Cloth is a Poke the Bear Production, directed by Ryan McVeigh and produced by Oli Fyne and Ronan Colfer. See it at Assembly George Square, Studio 5 (Venue 20) at 12.15pm every day until 25 August. Tickets here. Please note: there is no show on Tuesday 19 August.
For this production, Poke the Bear are partnering with survivors' charities Nexus NI and The Survivors Trust, and activist survivors Colm O'Gorman (who campaigned to have the Ferns Inquiry set up) and Sean Faloon.
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