TVScope: The Asylum, RTÉ 1, Monday, September 12th, 9.30pm
Sadness is a harder emotion to take than anger.
Watching last night's first episode of The Asylum about St Ita's psychiatric hospital in Portrane, Dublin, I longed for a little anger and condemnation.
It is not that anger would have made it a better programme - it would not have done. But it would have provided a respite from the sadness of the stories of the long-stay patients there.
Alan Gilsenan, however, is too good a director to let us off the hook with a little cheap anger. Instead, this beautifully edited documentary forces us to experience the full force of our emotions as we hear about the lives of patients in their own words.
The patients, it is important to say, have adapted to their lives in the institution and seem to be as happy and contented with their lives as people in general are. Still, the viewer cannot help but be saddened by their stories.
"Sometimes you are lucky and sometimes you are not," says 83-year-old Larry. "It's a hard life, isn't it? regrets."
One morning back in 1952 when Larry was staying at the Morning Star hostel, he had a bout of paranoia. He was brought up the road to St Brendan's, later transferred to St Ita's and has been in psychiatric care ever since.
Like the others, he has demonstrated the extraordinary human capacity for adaptability. He has a routine and always has the company of others - fellow patients or staff. To the viewer, though, there is a feeling of real sadness that an episode of paranoia led to a lifetime in an institution.
Teresa is happy too on her good days. She was born out of wedlock, raised by nuns for some years and then sent home. At home, at nine years of age, she was sexually abused. The doctor who examined her said, "back to the nuns with her". There she stayed until she was in her 20s when, without being told where she was going, she was brought to St Brendan's. Later she, too, was transferred to St Ita's. She has been there ever since and is now 65 years of age.
Such stories show that human attitudes are far stronger than the sturdy walls of St Ita's when it comes to locking people up.
Whenever I have visited St Ita's it has struck me that the relationship between staff and patients is a particularly good one. This was borne out by last night's documentary. The friendliness of all staff towards the patients was very apparent.
The programme ended with Peadar singing a song in English and Italian to his Italian wife, Tina, who is in the final stages of Alzheimer's disease. She doesn't know him but he comes in anyway to hold her hand and talk to her.
At first, the forbidding exterior of St Ita's had discouraged him from using the service there. But he took his GP's advice, "Don't mind the shop front - look at the service," and is full of praise for the humanity of the staff.
Last night's episode was one of four. All focus on the psychiatric service rather than St Joseph's intellectual disabilities service which is also based at St Ita's.
Next week's episode, Fallen Angels, looks at St Ita's Assessment Unit which functions rather like a mental health casualty department. Community services and the probable closure of St Ita's hospital will be the subject of future episodes.
Alan Gilsenan has made many award-winning documentaries. In this series he has brought his creativity and his talent to a fine piece of work, well worth our time and our licence money.
Padraig O'Morain is a journalist and counsellor.