by Barbara Waldinger
The second most important announcement by the Berkshire Theatre Group, after its decision to produce THE WEIR, an exquisite play by Conor McPherson, was the name of the director: Eric Hill. Once that was established, we knew this delicate play would be in capable hands and the production well-worth seeing, which is exactly what happened. From the detailed set to the top-notch cast, THE WEIR is a marvel.
For those who prefer action-packed, plot-driven theatrical experiences, this may not be the play for you. THE WEIR (a dam) is a character-driven play about the art of storytelling and what stories can reveal about the characters who tell them. McPherson, born and educated in Dublin, Ireland, was 26 when he wrote this Olivier Award-winning play, which began at the Royal Court Theatre in London and moved to Broadway in 1999. Other Broadway bound Mcpherson plays include SHINING CITY, THE SEAFARER, and GIRL FROM THE NORTH COUNTRY (a musical featuring twenty Bob Dylan songs). The playwright also wrote a highly praised adaptation of Chekhov’s UNCLE VANYA. Michael Billington, Theatre Critic of The Guardian, in his review of a 2013 revival of THE WEIR at London’s Donmar Warehouse, said that though it “consists of little but people telling ghost stories in a rural Irish bar,” McPherson, “even as a young writer, had something of Anton Chekhov’s genius for finding drama in the minute particular” and “the priceless ability to invest a tiny phrase with rich meaning.”
McPherson tells us in his note to the play that it was probably inspired by his visits to the Irish countryside (Leitrim), to visit his grandfather, a lonely man who told him stories as they sat by the fire, drinking. THE WEIR takes place in a rural pub, where four men and a woman gather on a cold, windy night. Randall Parsons’ extraordinary set is a fully equipped bar, with photos and signs on the walls, a refrigerator and small television above it, a wood-burning stove built into a fireplace, various chairs, stools, a door to the men’s room behind the bar and an enclosed lobby through which the barflies enter. Sound designer Scott Killian’s fierce wind is heard periodically, while Matthew E. Adelson’s lights illuminate the square tiles on the pub floor, and the mood-setting dim light fixtures throughout. The men all know each other: the barkeep, Brendan (Philip Themio Stoddard), his assistant Jim (Joey Collins—familiar to BTG audiences), Jack, a garage mechanic/owner (Sean Bridgers), and Finbar, the only married man, he relocated to Dublin—where he is a successful bar owner and businessman. Though the others talk about leaving Leitrim, they’re not able to uproot themselves, to leave the country for the big city, despite offers from prospective buyers interested in their property. Life in rural Ireland is tough, money is scarce, the pub is the main gathering place, so those who stayed have become like family, buoying each other up in their lonely, sad lives.
The young woman, Valerie (Stephanie Jean Lane), has recently moved from Dublin to Leitrim, where she has purchased a home. She was driven to the pub by Finbar, about whom gossip envelops the bar, emanating from the jealous bachelors complaining about the married man cheating with this young woman. Perhaps the men always tell stories or maybe they are trying to impress Valerie. But one by one, as they continue to buy each other drinks, they spin their yarns about the townspeople and the supernatural events that befall them, always observed by the storytellers. Each tale, told with theatrical expertise and gusto, involves changes in voice and attitude as they play different characters, each story inspired by the one before, evoking a gamut of emotions, becoming more and more personal, as we get to know the men and even Valerie on a deeper level. The men berate each other for having frightened Valerie, but are surprised to learn that she not only wants to listen but has her own story to tell. The beauty of the language, the structure of the interconnected stories, and the power of the monologues combine to take the listeners and the audience on a roller coaster of a ride.
Eric Hill is an actor’s director: his productions delve into the lives of the characters with precise details (remember SEASCAPE), similar to the way McPherson writes. Hill’s characters are layered, his staging is organic, he is not afraid of silences, and this 1 ¾ hour intermissionless production seems to fly by. With help from BTG’s resident dialect coach, Jennifer Scapetis, the Irish accents are absolutely clear and easy to understand, yet feel authentic. A word about bar scenes: we have all been subjected to them in film, television and theatre, where actors can’t be understood because they are slurring, or falling down drunk. That does not happen here, though the men drink throughout the play. They may get carried away by their emotions, but they are still fascinating to watch.
All of the actors give fine performances, but Sean Bridgers and Joey Collins are standouts. Bridgers’ Jack, the oldest of the group (fifties, according to the script), has two stories to tell: he begins the series of ghost stories and ends the play with a mournful, very personal narrative. He has a special animus against Finbar—perhaps because the latter has been able to do what Jack couldn’t: move to Dublin, earn a good living, exude confidence and dress like a rich man, marry, and maybe even attract a girlfriend. The arguments between Smith and Bridgers can escalate and de-escalate on a dime. There is anger, humor, camaraderie, and jealousy in their interactions. Jack is caring and tender, angry and lonely, funny and sad. Bridgers conveys all of these and much more. Joey Collins’ Jim tries unsuccessfully to mediate between Finbar and Bridgers. Collins is a true character actor, who embodies Jim in every sense. He is devoted to his elderly mother (unseen in the play) to such an extent that we can’t imagine what he’d do if she passed away. He speaks too slowly and loudly, walks as though he has trouble keeping his balance, shuffles his feet (though we’re told he’s in his forties), and constantly plays with the hem of his jeans, folding and unfolding it. Yet he tells his ghost story with as much theatricality and aplomb as the others, though it has a sick edge to it. He suffers pangs of remorse afterwards because it leads Valerie to tell the most horrifying story of all–a heart-rending account, all the more painful because Lane tells it in such a simple, understated way. It’s a tribute to her versatility to think of the contrast between the sexy Italian stewardess she portrays in Barrington Stage’s BOEING BOEING and her physically and emotionally restrained performance in THE WEIR. Stoddard’s Brendan, the youngest of the men, is completely at home in his pub, always busy–pouring drinks (and hinting jokingly that he might take one for himself), adding wood to the stove, drying glasses and worried that his pals won’t continue to frequent the pub when the German tourists, resented by the townies, begin to arrive.
An ensemble piece, carefully assembled by a master director, virtuoso cast and first-rate scenic designer, THE WEIR is a shining example of this exceptional Berkshire season.
THE WEIR runs from September 26—October 27 at The Unicorn Theatre, The Larry Vaber Stage, 6 East Street, Stockbridge, MA. For tickets call 413-997-4444 or online at BerkshireTheatreGroup.org.
Berkshire Theatre Group presents THE WEIR by Conor McPherson. Director: Eric Hill. Cast: Sean Bridgers (Jack), Joey Collins (Jim), Stephanie Jean Lane (Valerie), Harry Smith (Finbar), Philip Themio Stoddard (Brendan). Scenic Designer: Randall Parsons; Costume Designer: Amy Avila; Lighting Designer: Matthew E. Adelson; Composer/Sound Designer Scott Killian; Resident Dialect Coach: Jennifer Scapetis; Movement Support: Isadora Wolfe. Production Stage Manager: Caroline Ragland.
The production runs one hour 45 minutes without intermission.