Irish Wishing Well

I watched Brendan Gleeson’s Farewell to Hughes’s as part of the Chicago Irish Film Festival. The acclaimed actor has starred in many successful films such as The Banshees of Inisherin, Paddington 2, In Bruges, The Secret of Kells and the Harry Potter franchise to name a few. In this Irish documentary, he is the warm and knowledgeable host, narrator, interviewer and producer in a visual love letter to an old friend who is gone but certainly not forgotten - Hughes’s Pub in Dublin. After more than 35 years of camaraderie and comfort, Hughes’s closed its doors in 2021. Yet, during that time it was home to traditional Irish musicians, dancers, singers and patrons enjoying a pint of Guinness in the unassuming pub behind the Four Courts, a prominent courthouse. Brendan Gleeson brings us back to that stomping ground once more to play music, tell stories and reflect on this particular slice of Irish culture.

Director Ciarán Ó Maonaigh intersperses transcendant musical performances in between the interviews, archival footage and photography, which brings the film’s vivacious spirit to life. (Spoiler alert! - even though I couldn’t possibly convey the lush, rhythmic music, I do reveal some anecdotes.) The first lively song is from “Hughes’s Sunday Night Session.” The song is The Virginia/The Boys of Portaferry. It is captivating to watch the fiddles and other musical instruments working together to create magic. (The spirit of conviviality is so strong that there aren't titles beneath the names of people being interviewed, but it would be helpful all the same.)

Dublin is seen here and there with its famed waterways and bridges, in between shots of the dark, homey bar. Mr. Gleeson interviewed Sean McGinley, the Irish actor and musician, who said, “I think I fell in love with Dublin when I started coming in here. It was a place where musicians were welcome, but the musicians felt welcome.” Mr. McGinley plays the tin whistle and Mr. Gleeson demonstrated how he would reach for the instrument on his person in a covert fashion as if he was “going to kind of take out a little derringer and shoot somebody.”

There is often dancing to accompany the music.“Breanndán Ó Beaglaoich and Paul McGrattan & Brook’s Academy Set Dancers” performed to The Gullane Polka/The 4th figure of the Sliabh Luachra Set. In set dancing, four couples form a square with clattering feet, the button accordion inhales and exhales, while arms twirl over heads. It is inspired by 18th-century French quadrilles. The movements are fluid and the atmosphere is social.

Next comes the singing, and with it storytelling. “Barry Gleeson, Brendan Gleeson & Francis Gaffney“ performed The Pride of Pimlico (c. Arthur Griffith). Barry Gleeson, Brendan’s brother, sang in a plaintive voice, unspooling the tale of a beautiful woman named Kitty Quinn who stole the hearts of the townsmen, as Brendan played the banjo, among other musicians. It is right that these poor men should get sympathy in a song at a pub. Every mistreated soul, which is all of us really, could find solace here.

I don’t think there is a more consoling sound than the fiddle. Liam O’Connor, director of the Irish Traditional Music Archive (ITMA) ,co-executive producer of this documentary and a fiddler played Sliabh na mBan, a song from County Tipperary that translates to “Mountain of the Women.” (It is actually named after a real mountain shaped like a woman’s breast.) It is a lovely piece that he played almost as if meditating in prayer in the dusky light of the pub. One is transported back in time to the 1798 Irish Rebellion or to the Irish countryside.

Martin Hughes, son of the late owner Michael Hughes, explained to Mr. Gleeson that the goal was to reserve the pub for long-time musicians. “They just knew it was a space they could come do their thing and be left alone basically. There was no football match blaring. There was no deejay coming in at 10 o’clock - ‘Lads you have to wrap.’ There was nothing. Dad set a…He set a welcoming tone and the thing I learned from him was if things are flowing and people are having a good time and everyone is benefiting from it, like just get out of the way. Don’t put your oar in.”

Still, Marie Hughes, the matriarch, remembered when the pub first opened, before there was music. It was an “early house.” In Ireland, this is “a pub licensed to open in the early morning, often around 7 a.m., specifically to serve alcohol to shift workers, market traders, and laborers finishing night shifts.” Hughes’s served the nearby fish, fruit and vegetable markets and courts. “If they didn’t see the lights on upstairs, they would be pressing the bell and shouting, ‘Mike, it’s time to open up.”

After showing a video of the bustling markets from 1968, Mr. Gleeson visited the site where the fish market used to be and the empty building that housed the fruit and vegetable market. Paul Carass, wearing a hard hat and safety vest, said that plans are underway for a new fruit and vegetable market. The past is the future. Muralists in their 20s were painting members of a Irish band on the side of a building. Mr. Gleeson asked them, “Who are the fab four?”

Mind you, the fishmongers and fruit and veg - as the Irish say - sellers weren’t the only ones stepping into the pub. The legal community stopped by for a pint as well. Morgan Redmond was a barrister - a lawyer in the 90s - who recalled what it was like at the time. The lunchtime crowd was cops, guards, solicitors, barristers and, yes, accused criminals. “It was a neutral zone and it’s exactly the same now as it was then. There was no pretensions. It was just, just a place where you came in, you sat down. You sat beside somebody and they took you as you were and you took them as they were and that was it and that was the great thing about it. It’s a pub that, you know, was old school, a personality of its own and, you know, that was the great thing about it. Everybody was equal when they came in here.”

While welcoming everyone, Hughes’s Pub stood out for being the first pub in Dublin to host set dancing, according to the revered Irish musician Breanndán Ó Beaglaoich. There were also musicians from different parts of the country, according to Paul McGrattan, a traditional Irish flute player. He expressed the significance of the pub’s closing for musicians. “Its loss is hugely felt in the city at the moment. Traditional musicians in the city have very, very few options of places to play where the music is respected and understood and this was one of the places where it was.”

Mr. O’Connor said, “This was a place you could listen and appreciate good music. You could hear the jokes and the craic (a good time) between tunes. That’s something that was special here. That social spontaneity - listening to music together and people’s relationships and personalities were bonded between the tunes.” Muireann Banks, a banjo player, said, “I realize how much the social connection is such a definitive part of Irish music,” after trying to play her instrument alone during Covid and not feeling as inspired. Birthday cakes and sandwiches were always being served. There was always a celebration.

Mr. O’Connor, added,”It’s not just any old pub. It’s not replaceable. It’s like a habitat. if it was for some protected snail or something, it would be a loud clause - the musical equivalent of David Attenborough would activate people to preserve these types of things.”

It is so sacred that fiddle player Roma Casey jokingly recalled giving birth to her eldest daughter on St. Patrick’s Day and being told that was no excuse to miss a session. Musician Mary Corcoran decided to “go in and have a few tunes and then I’ll go into the hospital,” while in labor with twins. It was his father’s father’s place for Martin Hughes with tales of Irish revolutionary Michael Collins and tuberculosis. Personal stories were told in confidence to owner Michael Hughes, who has since passed away. It was like a confessional, which he wouldn't even divulge to his wife. Still the stories of the pub belong to the women too. Ms. Banks and Eimear Burke both had brothers that would play sessions and they’d only find out about them afterwards. In response, they created an all-female session.

Still despite all the milestones, Hughes’s Pub has gone silent, except in memory. Mr. Gleeson said, “This is closing its doors gently, not driven to it, not driven out…” Mr. Hughes plans to teach and continue to play music, with more of a free spirit, like the birds in the film, soaring through the Dublin sky, while he gracefully played Hungarian Pastoral Fantasy (c. Franz Doppler) on the flute. Another celebrated, family-run pub - The Cobblestone - is still an important hub for traditional Irish culture in Dublin. The tune has always been resilience.

Complete List of Songs

Hughes’s Sunday Night Session/ The Virginia/The Boys of Portaferry

Breanndán Ó Beaglaoich and Paul McGrattan & Brook’s Academy Set Dancers/The Gullane Polka/The 4th figure of the Sliabh Luachra Set

Barry Gleeson, Brendan Gleeson & Francis Gaffney/The Pride of Pimlico (c. Arthur Griffith)

Liam O’Connor/Sliabh na mBan

James Kelly & Gerry O’Beirne : The Morning Dew/Bonnie Kate

Shay Fogarty, Brendan Gleeson, Francis Gaffney : The Hunt

Breanndán Ó Beaglaoich, Dermot McLaughlin : Frankie Lane & Set Dancers

Breanndán Ó Beaglaoich, Paul McGrattan & Brook’s Academy Set Dancers. The Kilfenora/ The Kilrush / The 4th Figure of The Plain Set

Hughes’s Sunday Night Session. The Humours of Ballyloughlin/Fraher’s

Paul O'Shaughnessy/The Irish Giant/The Broken Lantern

Gerry O’Beirne/ Caperucita

Antaine Ó Faracháin/Baba 'ac Con Rí

The Fanny Power Session/ Paddy from Portlaw/The Whistler at the Wake (c. Vincent Broderick)

Gay McKeon/Sliabh na mBan

Martin Hughes/Hungarian Pastoral Fantasy (c. Franz Doppler)

Hughes’s Sunday Night Session/The Piper’s Despair

The Dubliners/Molly Malone