Pastoral Dreams in Innisfree, Ireland, U.S.A.
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essentially agrarian country, has historically had just as many problems (e.g., the
potato famine), if not more (inadequate health care, disease, high alcoholism,
etc.), as the most industrialized of “civilized” countries. But The Quiet Man s
version of Ireland is an idyllic fantasyland representative of Ford’s cinematic
vision of an America that may never have existed but that Ford, and American
audiences then and now, sorely desired. The California of the Joads’ dearest
fantasies exists in this Ireland; it’s the land where Wyatt Earp can raise his cattle
without interference from encroaching industrialism, where no cavalry is needed
because there are no threats, either from Indians or urban social forces, where
towns like Shinbone would never have needed the legend of the man who shot
Liberty Valance because neither stereotype, Ranse “the good Easterner,” nor
Liberty “the bad Westerner,” would have come to town. Here, Tom Doniphon
and Hallie, “the good Westerners,” would have lived happily ever after,
untouched by real world realities. Ford’s Innisfree is literally a utopian lake isle,
remaining forever a pastoral fantasy land, untouched by industrialism and
permanently outside the realm of American (or any country’s) history.
It is entirely intentional that Sean Thornton sees his future bride for the
first time while riding into town with Michaeleen. As mentioned earlier, the
beauty of the landscape, which Lindsay Anderson perfectly describes as
“presented with a pre-Raphaelite relish for sharp and varied colouring, as well as
a kindred romanticism of view,” is unsurpassed in Ford’s cinema. And into this
dreamscape comes Mary Kate Danaher (Maureen O’Hara), “a fairy-tale shepherd
girl, auburn hair, scarlet skirted, dressed in two shades of blue, driving her sheep
down the rocky dell, yellow gorse in the foreground, the countryside opening out
greener in the distance . . . ” (25). For Sean, and ultimately for the viewer, Mary
Kate is the physical manifestation of why he came to Ireland in the first place; he
came for the beauty of the land and the hope of the better, simpler life it offers,
and Mary Kate, shepherding the Danaher flock in the countryside, is
representative of both.
Before the plot gets into high gear, Ford gives us a whirlwind tour of
Innisfree. From the train station, Ford moves “to countryside to town to church to
pub, meeting trainmen, coachmen, priests, aristocrats, squires, the IRA, drinkers,
field hands, [and] Anglican clergy” (Gallagher 279). Innisfree, with its strong
community and rigid adherence to what we recognize as traditionally small-town
values, contains all the best of what Ford romanticizes in his other works, and
none of the bad. Although the characters are stereotypes, they are stereotypes of
an acceptable kind; there is no threat from any outside sources with the exception
of Sean, who will ultimately prove that he was literally bom to belong in the
community.
Innisfree is a town eternally untainted by the hazards of
industrialization, which results in its being appealing to even jaded contemporary
audiences.