Pat Shortt is brilliant as a simple soul in the quietly powerful Garage, writes Michael Dwyer
IN 1939, when Greta Garbo turned from serious roles to comedy in Ninotchka, it was considered such a significant switch that the posters were emblazoned with the slogan "Garbo Laughs." When actors cross over in the opposite direction, however, they are much more likely to prompt the hoary theatrical claim that the clown wants to play Hamlet. The implication, as ill-informed as it is condescending, is that comedy is whole lot easier.
Long established as one of Ireland's most versatile comedians, Pat Shortt makes the transition admirably in Garage, in which he is ideally matched with the synergistic team of screenwriter Mark O'Halloran and director Lenny Abrahamson. That duo's accomplished first collaboration, Adam & Paul, was as serious as it was blackly comic in following the misadventures of two Dublin junkies. They returned to those roots in Prosperity, the socially concerned four-part drama series broadcast by RTÉ last month.
Their mutual interest in outsiders as dramatic characters and how they struggle to survive in contemporary society takes on a deeper, darker tone in O'Halloran's incisive screenplay for Garage. It moves away from urban settings to a small rural town in the midwest of Ireland, but the atmosphere is just as edgy.
Physically, it's another world, set against beautiful natural landscapes handsomely photographed by Peter Robinson. The protagonist, Josie (Shortt), is a simple man who has spent his entire adult life there, working as the fastidious caretaker of a rundown petrol station that, like so many others in Ireland today, seems doomed for closure.
This environment is ostensibly similar to the locale of Shortt's popular TV comedy series, Killinaskully. But while Garage begins deceptively humorously, O'Halloran and Abrahamson are more intent in exploring the underbelly of festering frustration and undercurrents of menace in a place that has seen better, more hopeful times.
The film depicts Josie as a lonely, good-natured man whose world is his work. He wears a baseball cap emblazoned with Australia on it, even though he has probably never ventured further than Dublin. His neighbours regard him with varying levels of kindness and tolerance.
Josie is an innocent who seems suspended somewhere between childhood and adulthood, even in middle age. A man whose sexuality has remained confined, he is excited about a conversation with a truck driver about "streetwalkers" in Bruges. And Josie feels a growing attraction towards a shop assistant (Anne-Marie Duff), imagining that there might be more to her friendliness towards him.
When the garage owner (John Keogh) hires 15-year-old David (Conor Ryan) to work there over the summer, Josie enjoys having company during the long gaps between customers, and joining David and his young friends for cans of beer down by the railway tracks at night.
Under Abrahamson's sensitive, perfectly measured direction, the movie's tone turns more serious, until a crisis is unwittingly triggered with consequences that are emotionally devastating. The dialogue, which consistently rings true, is used sparingly in a film where silence speaks volumes.
Crucial to this achievement are the understated performances of an exemplary cast, in which Shortt's performance is revelatory, subtly expressive as he tenderly captures Josie in all his complexity. He inhabits the role so completely that the viewer is drawn inside his world, sharing his experiences and seeing them from his perspective. Any early mental referencing of Shortt's deliberately outsized comic creations is soon dispelled as this deeply affecting portrayal quietly, firmly takes hold.
