It is normal to speak well of the recently dead. But we do little favour to the memory of the departed, and no justice at all to the living, if we permit obsequy to become obsequiousness and allow the aureate glow of a contrite and pious deathbed to suffuse the life which preceded it. We all have our demons, and it is in the conquest of our demons that we become the heroes of our own lives.
Donal McCann had his demons, and they tormented him; they would have consumed him alive but for the presence in his life for some 20 years or so of the actress Fedelma Cullen. In the many narratives of Donal's life which have appeared since his death, she has been absent. But without her, his death would very probably have come far sooner; and without her, there would have been no great roles since the 1970s, no Juno and the Paycock, no Shadow of a Gunman, no Steward of Christendom to adorn the Irish stage. She was his guide and his guardian, and now that his life is ended, she deserves her proper place in the narrative of his life.
Grace and poise
Donal was a wonderful actor. He had grace and poise and perfect timing. He did not need to steal scenes because his audience could barely take their eyes off him. He had the preternatural confidence of a precocious boy, sure that he was the centre of attention. And he was right. His smile could illuminate the remotest seat in loftiest remove of the gods; his smallest gesture seemed full of significance.
But his puerilism was not confined to his unshakeable self-belief as an actor. It was quintessentially him. Throughout his adult life he barely had a place of his own, sometimes staying in the family home, roosting with friends, or, for the greater part of that life, sharing Fedelma's home. And in addition to that rootlessness, he was a serious alcoholic. He drank to fall over, and fall over he did: and before he did, he could be a dark and a brutal person, abusive, bullying, dangerous. That he was forgiven his many transgressions takes us back to the true person he was: a perpetual little boy, charming, witty, kind, intelligent, irresistible.
But those characteristics did not get him work, nor allow him to make the stage his natural home. His acting talent did; and that talent would have long since been overwhelmed by his alcoholism and his spectacular improvidence without his having Fedelma as a companion. She repeatedly and patiently put him back on the rails when he fell off. And he did fall off, constantly, as alcoholics do. During the dry passages of his life which were either created by Fedelma, or policed by her, he managed to put in some of the finest performances of any Irish actor in living memory. But without her, there would have been no such performances; instead, most probably, the gutter and the degradations which await its citizens.
Magical quality
He was in many ways like Ariel from The Tempest, feckless, merry, the weaver of spells, the bringer of mischief. That was why people liked him and why so many gathered in love and spoke with love about him at his removal and his funeral. Some people have a magical, adhesive quality which causes admiration and friendship to blossom merely with their presence. Without alcohol, he was an enchanting, quixotic, wildly intelligent companion.
He was a man's man too, with his fondness for the horses and the bookie's and the knowing conversations about the 3.30 at Uttoxeter. But to be fond of the horses as well as being too fond of the drink too easily creates black holes in people's lives. One person kept Donal from falling into his black hole for a score of years, and kept ensuring that he was in a condition to give of his sublime best when he was fit for work (which was not always) and that person was Fedelma.
Demons conquered
They had gone their own ways in recent years, and Donal had found companionship with Beau; mentally he had by this time conquered his demons, but physically - and fatally - they were to exact their toll on him, and it was she who minded him during his last days. She was rightly remembered at the end.
However, Fedelma's name was conspicuously absent in the public eulogies which accompanied Donal's bones to their resting place in Wexford, when so many people spoke with humour and regard for this great actor. To create a narrative of Donal's life from the mid-1970s to the middle years of this decade without her presence gigantically present there is to tell an untruth. No Fedelma, no Donal. Without her there was no Donal McCann, actor. Without her, no friend and fine companion; without her, no performances which will live with their audiences down the decades; without her there might just have been a drunken slob, yet another has-been - oh, remember him? Used to be a great actor, but look at him now. Ah the pity of it all.
It wasn't like that because one person made sure that it wasn't. It's right and proper that Donal McCann, great actor and fine friend, now is remembered and celebrated with love and regard.
This is also the time to remember who made that Donal McCann possible.