Conor McPherson's The Seafarer

The Bench Theatre produced The Weir, one of Conor McPherson's earlier plays in 2004. A group of us involved in that play, led by the director John Batstone, went to the Royal Court to see Shining City in order to pick up the speech patterns and the distinctive McPherson way with plot and characters. Up until that matinee I had been dubious about the play and about the playwright. However I was blown away by the performances and the sheer artistry with words and ideas that McPherson exhibits.
I therefore leaped at the chance to see the Seafarer, the latest in the McPherson canon, which opened at the National Theatre's Cottesloe auditorium in September 2006. This is the first time that one of his plays had opened at the National - previously his London work has been shown at the Royal Court. Born in Dublin in 1971 ( which still makes him only 35) he has been described as "already heir to the great Irish tradition of absorbing tale-telling" (Guardian) and "a distinctive talent to cherish" (Telegraph)
The Seafarer opens in the home of Richard Harkin in Baldoyle, a coastal settlement north of Dublin City. It overlooks Howth Head, long a focus of myths and legends. The house seems to have been built into a hill. The main entrance is down a flight of stairs from the ground floor, which gives a basement feel to the grim living area we see before us. The furniture is old and worn and sparse. The people who live here are immersed in pub culture as evidenced by the ashtrays, beer mats, bar stools and bottles. One man's slipper lies abandoned in the middle of the tiled floor illuminated by the cold morning light coming through the glass panels of the upstage door which leads to a yard. To the left and right of this door are a mostly unseen kitchen and toilet.
We meet the two Harkin brothers, Richard and Sharkey. The latter has returned to Dublin to look after his irascible, ageing brother who has been recently blinded after an accident falling into a skip while drunk. Sharkey is on the wagon after a lifetime of heavy drinking, Richard isn't. The relationship is one of lacerating put downs delivered with a razor sharp wit from Richard and sullen defensive retorts from Sharkey. The recently blinded Richard is played by Jim Morton ( who created the part of Jack in The Weir) and it is a performance of bravura. He cannot see and this is an entirely convincing condition by Mr Morton but Richard is a creature of passion and energy. He leaps about the room, he bullies and cajoles in equal fashion, and his rich Irish brogue lulls the audience into forgiving some of the more outrageous and deliberately hurtful comments he makes about Sharkey. Karl Johnson as Sharkey shows evidence of a tough life with lines etched deep on his face. Recently he has been involved in a fight - he has plasters on his forehead and on the knuckles of each hand. It is Sharkey who tries to desperately assert some domestic order on the chaos of the living area on this Christmas Eve morning.
Also in the house having slept overnight after a drinking bout with Richard is Ivan, a large man, who should have returned home to his wife and kids yesterday but is hindered by an enormous hangover and the fact he can't find his spectacles, reducing his sight to within a few inches of his nose. Ivan is played by Conleth Hill, who I last saw as the gay queen of a Broadway director who is hired to direct Springtime for Hitler in the award winning musical by Mel Brooks, The Producers. Mr Hill uses his undoubted comic talents here to great effect but without ever compromising the truth of the characterisation. Conor McPherson, who directed as well as writing the play, uses the lost spectacles as a pivotal piece in the play but in the hands of such a skilled playwright and talented actor I defy you to anticipate the twist in the play.
So far we have the dysfunctional lives of a Dublin drinking class laid bare to us, when the play moves into a realm beyond that we know or can guess at. Another old drinking buddy, Nicky (Michael McElhatton - the psychiatrist in Shining City) brings with him Mr Lockhart (Ron Cook) who he met in a pub and has spent the day in a massive pub crawl before ending up at the Harkins' house. There is something about Mr Lock hart that isn't quite right - is it the accent? is it the different tonal patterns in his speech? is it the smile which doesn't extend to the eyes?- and one begins to notice that the red light under the picture of the Sacred Heart has gone out and the lights of the Christmas tree dim when he is near. It gives nothing away to tell you that Mr Lockhart is not what he seems and that he has come for Sharkey's soul. The soul had been lost over a card game in Sharkey's distant past, though Sharkey had been too heavy with drink at the time to have remembered. When a card game is suggested to while away the rest of that Christmas Eve, we know we are to witness the battle for a man's redemption or damnation. The outcome is a pure stroke of theatrical genius and, yes, it does fall within that great Irish tradition of absorbing tale telling!