How much do you bid in a poker game when your soul is on the line? That's the essence of the second act in Conor McPherson's The Seafarer, a play about whiskey, lost dreams, forgiveness and redemption.
As the play opens, we are welcomed into the home (more of a hovel, actually) of two middle-aged Irish brothers, Sharky and Richard. It's Christmas Eve, and the home's few holiday decorations can barely minimize the clutter of empty bottles and crunched beer cans. It's the morning after a long night of drinking. On this day, the two brothers soon are joined by a third middle-aged man who ambles downstairs. The man, Ivan, turns out to be one of Richard's drinking buddies. Ivan can't recall seeing Sharky the previous night, although Sharky assures him they did talk together. It's clear that whiskey, poured liberally throughout the play, offers amnesia as well as a necessary dose of anesthesia to these wretches.
The Seafarer was first produced by London's Royal National Theatre in 2006. It soon "crossed the pond" to Broadway's intimate Booth Theatre in 2007. As one may suspect, McPherson uses the situation to represent far more than a bunch of Irish drunks.
In Milwaukee, McPherson's work was represented several years ago by a successful production of The Weir. But The Seafarer seems even more deliciously told. Sometimes, it's like a whispered bit of scandal. At other times, it's an uproarious burst of laughter. The characters are clearly outlined by McPherson's witty banter, which often appears to be idle conversation. Since this is man-to-man talk, it revolves around sophomoric humor and insults. The term "f---ing idiot" is a typical term of endearment.
Once the key relationships are established, the play introduces another character, Nicky, who is keeping house with Sharky's ex-wife. Against Sharky's wishes, Richard invites Nicky to join them in an annual Christmas Eve poker game. Worse yet, Nicky brings along a newfound acquaintance. The well-dressed and well-spoken man, Mr. Lockhart, seems to know a lot about Sharky. When the two are alone momentarily, "Mr. Lockhart" reminds Sharky of the Faustian bargain they made years ago. When Sharky can't seem to recall the specifics of their interaction, "Mr. Lockhart" causes Sharky to have an incapacitating fit. First annoyed by Nicky's presence and now frightened by "Mr. Lockhart's" supernatural powers, Sharky can barely contain himself. Although he swore off booze two days earlier, he decides that a strong drink is in order. When the others return to start playing a hand of poker, only Sharky and "Mr. Lockhart" understand the true stakes of this game. Director Ben Barnes must be credited for keeping a tight rein on the unfolding of this tale.
The actors offer such nimble performances in The Seafarer that one can easily imagine them as longtime friends, relatives and neighbors. Perhaps that's why the entire cast is comprised of local, well-known actors. Their conversation flows naturally and casually (although Ivan's Irish accent seems to come and go).
The central character is the older brother, Richard, brilliantly portrayed here by James Pickering. This has to be one of Pickering's best performances in the hundreds of roles he has played over the years. Each gesture and movement suggests a man whose best years are behind him. Recently blinded in a bizarre accident, Richard uses this situation to his advantage. He exploits Sharky's willingness to be a cook-housekeeper-barman-butler and guide.
The luckless Sharky is equally memorable in the hands of Lee Ernst. Though Sharky dodges his brother's verbal abuse, he is nonetheless a shattered man. It's clear that Sharky's lifetime of bad choices poor judgment and alcohol-fueled brawls have caught up with him. In Act II, Lee Ernst memorably portrays Sharky as a condemned man. His haunted eyes glaze over as he contemplates the future that "Mr. Lockhart" has detailed for him.
As the clueless Nicky, Jonathan Gillard Daly brings a subtle humanity to his character. He brings Nicky closer to reality than is first apparent.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, Christopher Tarjan makes the most of his plum role as Ivan. He gives his character a hangdog appearance; his aura is of someone who seems always to be recovering from a hangover. He makes Ivan utterly absorbing as the absent husband who hides out with his male friends instead of confronting a wrathful wife.
Finally, Jonathan Smoots is wonderful as the villain. He is both smooth and sinuous. Smoots exudes self-confidence and his character easily works his way into the evening's poker game. None of the other characters suspects he is anything more than an amiable fellow.
McPherson concocts a chilling story that offers many twists before its conclusion. The set features a living room filled with cast-off furniture, beer signs and a few modest artifacts of the holiday season. Costumes consist of Goodwill rejects (except for the dashing "Mr. Lockhart," who is smartly attired in a well-cut suit and a long wool coat). The lighting plays a more prominent role here than in many plays, and the music is completely in synch with the proceedings. One sample is the clever choice of "Symphony for the Devil" by the Rolling Stones.
