SEAN THORNTON, NINE

A professional boxer retired due to tragedy, Sean seeks retreat and peace. He’s an easy Nine.

The Quiet Man’s story is simple: Irish-American comes to the Old Country to settle and make a new life in his ancestral home. When he sees a lass tending sheep, he falls for her, makes “pattyfingers in the holy water” with her, and arranges to court her. Her belligerent brother keeps them apart over spite about the property, until he consents and later regrets it, holding his sister’s dowry after the marriage. Sean must eventually demand the money and make peace with his brother-in-law, which leads to a town-consuming brawl between the two of them. In the end they live happily ever after.

We hit a wall, though, when we get to the scene of him dragging his wife by the nape of her neck. Is something about this moment particularly Nine-ish? His avoidance of conflict — taking the brother’s verbal ridicule, watching his volatile wife demand her things about her — might lead to a man who’s had enough and overreacts as a result. If he’s driven to take action, though, just give him a different action to take. The key to this whole movie is the moment when Sean pursues his wife to the train station and returns with her to town.

What does Sean want? What action should the actor play? He wants his wife back in his house and a resolution to the trouble in their marriage. I wouldn’t say he wants his wife’s dowry — that action belongs to Mary Kate — but he wants her anger with her brother settled. The big question is: does he want her humiliated? When he drags her through the field, is he just getting from point A to point B, or is he intent on physically demeaning her in front of the locals?

If he’s only making a beeline for Squire Danaher, then Sean could choose different modes of transport. For instance, he’s ridden to the train station on a horse; perhaps he holds her in the saddle for the ride back to face the brother. (I would love to see her upside down at some point, with that silly tam-o-shanter falling off and trod under foot.) Maybe a two-person bicycle, something firmly established earlier in the movie, waits at the station and he bounces over the fields with her. Either choice has the potential for physical humor. The shoe, the stumble — all of Mary Kate’s struggles could be portrayed without abusing her. If you must have the village lady offer Sean a stick to beat his wife, it can only work if he doesn’t look like he’d actually accept the stick.

If Sean wants to demean Mary Kate, then this movie can’t be saved. Who finds that entertaining? Here’s the fail point: Mary Kate also wants her anger with her brother settled. At the train station they both want the same thing. Technically, they are not at odds. Forcing her to return to her brother isn’t really a playable action because she’s not resistant to the plan. She’s only waiting for Sean to initiate the move. Once Mary Kate understands that they’re underway, she complies. This is how O’Hara plays the scene; she’s just trying to get her feet under her. It was possible to show Sean’s determination and uncertainty without pulling his wife on her back through sheep pies. As it stands now, his action misrepresents everyone’s intentions, and the scene has no structural justification. I wouldn’t like the scene even if it did, but I’m happy to see that it’s a mess on many levels.