Ireland’s problems put in bold relief

Press, Volume CXI, Issue 32706, 8 September 1971, Page 4

Ireland’s problems put in bold relief

While the bullets fly in Belfast, the Republic of Ireland is in a state of unrest, too. But it is not the sort of turmoil which is savagely shaking Northern Ireland; to get to the heart of the republic’s troubles one has to go to the small farms or the back alleys of Dublin, as Thames Television did in its programme, “The Green Is Wearing Thin.”

Rural Ireland seems idyllic to the tourist; the visitors reach for their cameras as the sun goes down on Galway Bay. But the sun is going down on many facets of Irish life, too. The programme painted a gloomy picture of farmers seeking out an existence on small holdings—two-thirds of them own less than 50 acres each. And the future

looked even gloomier, poor productivity making it economically impossible for a farmer’s son to support a wife.

The hauntingly sad picture : of the two ageing bachelor brothers huddled beside their turf fire told the story vividly. That one scene was better than a thousand words. West of Ireland parents spoke of their children who had grown up and gone to live in England, or other parts abroad—contributors to the inevitable drift away from home, because there was no means of support in their own district. The Irish Minister of Finance attempted to counter this impression by pointing to the fall in the emigration rate and to the development of industry to provide more jobs for the people. But the problems did not end on the land. In the cities and towns the housing problem reared its ugly head. It was claimed that young people, by drawing attention to this and other social problems through agitation, had caused changes to be brought about. Then there was the influence of the Roman Catholic Church, especially in the schools. The assertion was made that the education system provided a bulwark against social change and the programme’s Irish guide, a seaman turned author, said moodily, “Small men in dark suits have had too much power for too long.” The epilogue hinted of the long, hard road ahead: “Irishmen are finding that industry and social change are just as hard to come to terms with as the Orangemen and the British.” # # ♦

“Nicholas Nickleby” continues to impress because of the excellence of the supporting actors and actresses and the cultured performance of Martin Jarvis in the title role. Scarcely an episode passes without a noteworthy addition being made to the

list of convincing character perfonners. This week Madeline Bray’s father, a crusty old man anchored to his chair, joined the assembly. But Mr Noggs and Mr Squeers are still setting the pace. “Love American Style” continued jauntily on its journey, boosted by the adventures of the impetuous pro-posal-maker, caught up in a web of romantic intrigue—of his own making. The programme is light and frothy; a little foolish at times, perhaps, but most acceptable fare for the viewer. * * • The only problem with Monday’s late evening programme featuring "The Scaffold”—a singular term for a group of singularly noisy performers—was that the scene of its operations was the London night spot, “The Talk of the Town.” Tyburn would have been a more fitting locale. The trio’s singing was not very good, the clowning was clumsy, and the jokes were of the light-weight variety—and the touches of irreverence highlighted the lack of genuinely funny material. In the Middle Ages, court jesters lost their heads for better acts than this.—PANDORA.