Martin McDonagh and the Ion Theatre seem made for each other.

In January ‘08, Ion staged the Irish playwright’s gripping drama “The Pillowman,” which garnered virtually unanimous acclaim. And now the little company headed by Glenn Paris and Claudio Raygoza is aglow again with McDonagh’s bittersweet comedy “The Cripple of Inishmaan.” Paris’s direction and a charming company capture the vicissitudes of life for some residents on the small island at the mouth of Ireland’s Galway Bay.

The title character is a young man with a right arm and leg that are practically unusable. He’s known to most acquaintances as Crippled Billy. And he’s suffered a lifetime of slights and insults, including the commonly held belief that his parents drowned themselves because of their shame over him. His lonely existence is brightened only by reading or, as described by the two “aunties” who raised him, by staring at cows.

But it’s 1934, the year that U.S. movie director Robert Flaherty went to the nearby island of Inishmore to do filming for his now-classic documentary “Man of Aran,” and Billy has a plan to flee his bleak past. Like several others on Inishmaan, he hopes to cross the water and win a part in the film. His desire, of course, is ridiculed, and the owner of the boat doesn’t want to use up precious space taking him. Yet Billy devises a ruse to get the ride and, improbably, winds up being the only one who gets chosen. He’s even taken to Hollywood, seemingly fulfilling his dream.

Not surprisingly, Hollywood proves even less hospitable to Billy than Inishmaan. So he returns, glad to be back in familiar surroundings with people he loves and who, as he discovers, love and missed him. That realization, however, doesn’t presage a “happily ever after.” McDonagh doesn’t incline that way, even as he supplies more revelations and knits loose ends.

McDonagh’s works have drawn much criticism for their bleak portrayal of Irish life, and these characters certainly evidence that. All are deeply flawed, and even the play’s frequent flashes of humor rest largely on eccentricity, misanthropy and general malice.

The town busybody, for instance, talks frankly about trying to kill his aged and burdensome mother with booze, while she, in return, curses him and wishes him dead. One of Billy’s “aunties” has a decided — and derided — predilection to talk to stones. Animals belonging to two neighbors are killed in hopes of starting a blood feud between them. And eavesdropping is a common and major occupation. As Billy perceptively puts it: “People here are as crippled as I am.”

Religion doesn’t help, either. Helen, the pretty object of Billy’s unrequited affection even though she’s often cruel and cynical, remarks that she believes Jesus was “full of himself.” And she and her brother casually discuss their regular and frequent gropings and abuse by priests.

Jason Connors firmly anchors the cast as Billy, with his grotesquely twisted arm visibly symbolizing his inner torment. The other standout is Walter Ritter as the boring blabbermouth whose carrying of local news and gossip drives the plot. Everyone else contributes satisfactorily, although, as the two “aunties,” D’Ann Paton fluffed some lines and Dana Hooley suffers from the too-obvious makeup intended to age her. Morgan Trant gives Helen the proper attractiveness but needs to probe deeper into the dark underside of her character.

Ion moved “Inishmaan” from the company’s old venue to the Lyceum Space, and scenic designers Raygosa and Matt Scott must have enjoyed having more room and flexibility. Their set consists mainly of a large wall that revolves from the warm general store run by the “aunties” to a dark rocky shore, both effectively lighted by Raygoza and aided by Matt Lescault-Wood’s sound design and David Medina’s props suggestions. Jennifer Brawn Gittings’ rural-Irish costumes are spot on.

No one is credited in the program as dialect coach, but someone clearly handled that task very well.

Cast and credits