Jack (Dan Butler, right) is a regular at a rural Irish pub, while Valerie (Sarah Street) is new to the area. They share a drink at the end of a long evening of storytelling, in Connor McPherson’s The Weir.
The Irish Rep is currently staging its fourth production since 2013 of Conor McPherson’s 1997 play The Weir, with several of the cast reprising roles. And yet there is nothing stale about this staging—instead, the play is brought to exhilarating life by a marvelous ensemble, under Ciarán O’Reilly’s assured direction. The Weir is essentially a collection of four ghost stories, which arise naturally out of the banter in a rural Irish pub, that ultimately reveal more about the loneliness of the people telling them than anything supernatural.
When Jack (Dan Butler), an aging bachelor who owns a garage, enters the empty bar, which is owned by the much-younger Brendan (Johnny Hopkins), it’s clear he feels right at home, as he fixes himself a drink. The Guinness tap is broken, which forces him to the indignity of drinking the stout out of bottles, which horrifies Brendan and the other patrons. Charlie Corcoran’s scenic design, lovingly detailed, expertly captures the drab yet cozy pub atmosphere.
John Keating as Jim, a local handyman who tells one of the play’s four ghost stories.
The other members of the core group at Brendan’s are Jim (John Keating), a handyman who cares for his elderly and long-ailing mother (“the mammy”), and Finbar (Sean Gormley), the only non-bachelor in the group, who owns a hotel in town and projects a suave demeanor. The major news among Jack, Jim, and Brendan is that there is a Dublin woman who has moved to the area and Finbar, despite being married, is showing her around. When Finbar arrives at Brendan’s with Valerie (Sarah Street), she throws a curveball by ordering a glass of white wine, which Brendan, after recovering from his shock, must fetch from his house, the bottle a gift he received long ago. “It’s not too often the ... the ... wine does be flowing in here,” Jack says.
There are no TVs in the bar, and no iPhones in hand: in other words, people must actually speak to one another. They eventually progress beyond small talk, but the weather always seems to present an inviting topic:
Jack. That wind still up, Jim?
Jim. Oh it is, yeah. Warm enough though.
Jack. We were just saying.
Brendan. For a Northerly.
Jim. Oh that’s from the West now.
Brendan. Is it?
Jim. Oh yeah that’s a Westerly.
Jack. Must’ve shifted.
Jim. Mm.
McPherson’s rendering of the rhythms of speech and pub rituals is beautifully precise. Soon Valerie’s presence, with the help of old photographs that Brendan keeps on the walls, puts the men in a storytelling mood. Each, in turn, recounts a spooky tale of either town or personal history, and eventually Valerie relays her own. Each performer is in utter command during their monologue; there isn’t a hint of contrivance despite the around-the-campfire feel and with Drew Levy’s sound design (the wailing wind) and Michael Gottlieb’s lighting design enhancing the scary-story atmosphere. But these aren’t cheap ghost stories, even if dismissed by Finbar as so much “old cod.”
Finbar (Sean Gormley, left) has brought Valerie to the bar owned by Brendan (Johnny Hopkins) to meet the local crew. Photographs by Carol Rosegg.
Butler imbues Jack with a warmth that belies his self-image as a “cantankerous old fucker,” and he urges Brendan, whom Hopkins portrays with an easygoing, down-to-earth charisma, to avoid the loneliness that has defined his own life. As Finbar satirically describes the lives of “the old lads living on their own”: “Thirty years of old newspapers and cheap thrillers, all lying there in the damp since their mammies died and that was the last bit of cleaning went on in the place.” Gormley is great in expressing Finbar’s slightly above it all, affectedly smooth attitude without reducing the character to that one trait. Valerie fits in with the group quite naturally, but Street subtly shows that she carries a deep sadness with her. Keating, marking his 28th Irish Rep production, is terrific as the taciturn, good-natured, yet heartbreaking Jim.
The production doesn’t offer any spooky gimmicks or jolts—there are no creaking doors or apparitions or loud, sudden noises. The monsters lurking are the all too human, the haunting done by regrets rather than ghosts. There’s hope in the community and mutual support that forms in the bar, but also many hours alone, with only the howling wind and the memories of what might have been.
The Weir runs through August 31 at the Irish Repertory Theatre (132 W. 22nd St.). Evening performances are at 7 p.m. Wednesday through Saturday; matinees are at 2 p.m. Wednesday and Saturday and at 3 p.m. Sunday. For tickets and more information, visit irishrep.org.
Playwright: Conor McPherson
Director: Ciarán O’Reilly
Scenic Design: Charlie Corcoran
Lighting Design: Michael Gottlieb
Costume Design: Leon Dobkowski
Sound Design: Drew Levy
