The Seafarer

Emily Fishbaine

The Seafarer is a Christmas play. It’s not the biblical story of Christmas, nor is it in the spirit of the hyper-commercialized holiday fluff that surrounds us from Halloween to December 25th. But it is truly in the spirit of Christmas (and the new year) in the sense that it offers a reminder of what the possibilities of redemption feel like. This play does not particularly tackle new ground. Its conceit is one found throughout literature and film. However, Conor McPherson’s new take is lovely, well-acted, poetically told, and most of all, hopeful.

The play revels in the comedies (and humiliations) of everyday life, starting with Sharky (David Morse) rising to clean up after yet another of his brother’s nights of debauchery. It takes place over the course of twenty-four hours, from Christmas Eve morning through Christmas day. We are gradually introduced to Richard, Sharky’s older, blind brother – played by an exceedingly nimble and sharp Jim Norton – and Ivan, a friend, played by an endearing Conleth Hill. We learn that Sharky has come home to take care of Richard. McPherson slowly, through sweet and seemingly innocuous gossip and banter, reveals to us bits and pieces from their lives, most notably, Sharky’s apparently violent past.

Time passes, and preparations are made for that evening’s get-together with Niki (Sean Mahon) and his mysterious guest, Mr. Lockhart (Ciarán Hinds). Shortly after the guests arrive, Mr. Lockhart reveals himself to be the Devil and declares that he has come to play Sharky in a game of poker for his soul. But it is not this revelation that makes the play special—in fact, I found it to be sudden and a bit forced. However, from this point on, the casual Christmas poker game takes on new import, and settles into a more comfortable rhythm that builds through to the end, as Sharky wrestles with the possibility that his life might end tonight.

The play pivots around Sharky, and his sober presence. Mr. Morse does a very fine job quietly keeping his motor running, and allowing his inner tension to mount as the play progresses. I felt great sympathy for Sharky as a lonely, aimless, angry man. We learn about various aspects of his life: missed opportunities, potential illicit and lost loves, and the fact that he may be guilty of manslaughter. But again, what I walked away with was the importance of everyday things, and the love that we experience everyday from those around us. In the end it is chance and love that saves Sharky, and this seems to be McPherson’s main point.

This production is certainly set up to highlight the writing (which may be why I’ve found it hard not to spend so much time focusing on it in this review). I must admit that this is my first exposure to a McPherson text, so I have little to compare it to, though I hear that this is one of his first real attempts at a dialogue (and not monologue) based play. Perhaps because of this, the structure feels a little formulaic and comfortable. He does include a few beautiful monologues and uses the characters’ drunkenness as a vehicle for musings on the afterlife, hell, and faith. Mr. Hines has an eerie monologue describing hell as an immensely magnified feeling of self-loathing that was, if not terrifying, certainly affecting. And Mr. Norton has a stunning bit about a dream he had where he could see, which turned into a gorgeous portrayal of total and unpretentious faith in God.

McPherson directed the piece himself, so the writing and language take precedence. It took me some time to get past the brogues, and at times I missed lines even late in the play. But it didn’t matter—the ensemble’s cohesion and clear physicality successfully communicated meaning where language failed or was absent. There were fantastic moments, such as Richard’s Christmas song medley, and in general, this ensemble was incredibly on point in their comic timing and togetherness.

The design was unimposing, and quietly supported the story. The action centers in the basement portion of Richard and Sharky’s apartment, and is both a little dingy and homey at the same time. It is a warm heart, surrounded by cool and mysterious outside spaces. The upstairs hallway is shrouded in a lace scrim, and has very low lighting, serving as a vaguely menacing entrance and exit; you never know exactly who is arriving through that hallway until they are well into it. There is also a moat of space surrounding the set, and a back walkway that is referenced continually. Rae Smith, who designed the sets, seems to be suggesting that the world outside the apartment is slightly threatening, and offers little to the apartment’s inhabitants. There was one stunning conjunction of set and lights when Mr. Lockhart gives his speech about Hell that in fact made it feel like that basement apartment was the only lonely thing that existed in the entire universe.

I was a little skeptical about the idea of having Sharky play the Devil for his soul, and the idea still feels a little glitzy. However, the execution of the idea is unusual, and McPherson uses it to get at something deeper. He pointed to the cycles that our lives can fall into, the seeming inability to break out and change, even with our best efforts. He points out that sometimes, missed chances are almost as “sinful” as overtly awful deeds. While this play was not groundbreaking, if you’re looking for a thoughtful, enjoyable piece that has optimism and hope for the survival of a human soul, it is very worthwhile; we do need to be reminded now and then that all is not lost, even at our worst moments.