The radical priest Des Wilson was one of a number who were drawn, quite literally, into the line of fire between the British Army and working class nationalists in west Belfast in the early years of the Troubles. From 1966 to 1975, Wilson ministered to the besieged Catholic ghetto of Bally- murphy, where neighbours, friends and fellow priests were shot dead by the army.
Now officially retired, his protestations against these atrocities eventually won him the Sakharov Peace Prize although, back then, he attracted the dangerous contempt of local squaddies and the Church heirarchy.
This production, by Dubbel-joint, is an unashamed tribute to Wilson in the form of a one-man memoir, written by former republican prisoner Brian Campbell. In time-honoured Gaelic iconographic tradition, actor Jim Doran - in vestments and priestly garb - performs at the foot of a massive cross on a high dais. But this isn't churchy agitprop, but rather a deeply moving and convincing testimony.
Under Pam Brighton's pointed direction, Doran gives a performance of great humanity, scattering off a melee of cameos from the sanctimonious Scotsy Bishop to the treacly west Belfast accents of local wisecrackers.
From his early sunny memories of the impoverished Falls, Wilson charts the descent into carnage: his friend Father Hugh Mullan among seven people killed by British soldiers the night internment was introduced; a later massacre in which Father Noel Fitzpatrick was shot dead, described as a gunman on BBC news.
Wilson compiled a dossier of abuses for the Church, after which Cardinal Conway made a statement condemning IRA and loyalist paramilitaries, without mentioning security forces. From Wilson's position, the upper echelons of Church and Army were on more than speaking terms.
Some of the Church's canonical doublespeak and cruelty take your breath away. After Wilson resigned, he was barred from all Church buildings, schools and halls. In one scene, he appeals to a prominent Catholic theologian who referred to the Vatican's seven conditions for justifying a revolution, all of which the IRA's cause satisfied, bar one - it was unlikely to succeed.
The piece steers away from condemning Protestant loyalism (indeed, it advances an almost Protestant argument of individual conscience) and giving any wider analysis. The abrupt cut-off point at Wilson's resignation in 1975 is deeply unsatisfying but, ultimately, this is very effective theatre.
Until December 2. Box office: 00-353-1-8554090.
