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‘The Weir’ Review: Drinks and Spirits in a remote Irish Pub

Conor McPherson’s The Weir currently in its fourth revival at Irish Repertory Theatre has evolved its significance for our time. It captures the bygone Irish pub culture and isolated countryside, disappeared by hand-held devices, a global economy and social media. Set in an area of Ireland northwest Leitrim or Sligo, five characters exchange ghostly stories as they drink and chase down their desire for community and camaraderie. Directed with precision and fine pacing by Ciarán O’Reilly, The Weir completes the Irish Rep’s summer season closing August 31st.
Charlie Corcoran’s scenic design of the pub with wooden bar, snacks, bottles, a Guinness tap and heating grate is comfortable for anyone to have a few pints and enjoy themselves at a table or nearby bench. With Michael Gottlieb’s warm, inviting lighting that enhances the actors’ storytelling, all the design elements including the music (Drew Levy-sound design), heighten O’Reilly’s vision of an outpost protective of its denizens and a center of good will. It’s perfect for the audience to immerse itself in the intimacy of conversation held in non-threatening surroundings.
On a dark, windy evening the humorous Jack drops in for drinks as a part of his routine after work at the garage that he owns. A local and familiar patron he helps himself to a bottle since he can’t draw a pint of Guinness because the bar’s tap is not working. Brendan (Johnny Hopkins) owner of the pub, house and farm behind it informs him of this sad fact. But no matter. There are plenty of bottles to be had as Jim (John Keating) joins Jack and Brendan for “a small one.” The entertainment for the evening is the entrance of businessman Finbar (Sean Gormley), who will introduce his client Valerie to the “local color,” since she recently purchased Maura Nealon’s old house.

Initially, Jack, Jim and Brendan gossip about the married Finbar’s intentions as he shows up the three bachelors by escorting the young woman to the pub. Jim, caretaker of his mom, and Jack are past their prime in their late 50-60s. Brendan, taken up with his ownership of the pub and farm, is like his friends, lonely and unmarried. None of them are even dating. Thus, the prospect of a young woman coming up from Dublin to their area is worthy of consideration and discussion.
McPherson presents the groundwork, then turns our expectations around and redirects them, after Finbar and Valerie arrive and settle in for drinks. When the conversation turns to folklore, fairy forts and spirits of the area, Valerie’s interest encourages the men to share stories that have spooky underpinnings. Jack begins his monologue about unseen presences knocking on windows and doors, and scaring the residents until the priest blesses the very house that Valerie purchased.
Caught up in his own storytelling which brings a hush over the listeners (and audience), Jack doesn’t realize the import of his story about the Nealon house that Valerie owns. Thankfully, the priest sent the spirits packing. Except there was one last burst of activity when the weir (dam) was being built. Strangely, there were reports of many dead birds on the ground. Then the knocking returned but eventually stopped. Perhaps the fairies showed their displeasure that the weir interfered with their usual bathing place.
Not to be outdone, Finbar shares his ghost story which has the same effect of stirring the emotions of the listeners. Then, it is Jim who tells a shocking, interpretative spiritual sighting. Ironically, Jim’s monologue has a sinister tinge, as he relays what happened when a man appeared and expressed a wish, but couldn’t really have been present because he was dead.

As drinks are purchased after each storyteller’s turn, the belief in the haunting spirits rises, then wanes as doubts take over. After Jim tells his story about the untoward ghost, Valerie goes to the bathroom in Brendan’s house. During her absence Finbar chides all of them. He regrets their stories, especially Jim’s which could have upset Valerie. With Jack’s humorous calling out of Finbar as a hypocrite, they all apologize to each other and drink some more. By this point, the joy of their conversation and good-natured bantering immerses the audience in their community and bond with each other. I could have listened to them talk the rest of the night, thanks to the relaxing, spot-on authenticity of the actors.
Then, once more McPherson shifts the atmosphere and the supernatural becomes more entrenched when Valerie relates her story of an otherworldly presence. Unlike the men’s tales, what she shares is heartfelt, personal, and profound. The others express their sorrow at what happened to her. Importantly, each of the men’s attitudes toward Valerie changes to one of human feeling and concern. Confiding in them to release her grief, they respond with empathy and understanding. Thus, with this human connection, the objectification of the strange young woman accompanied by Finbar at the top of the play vanishes. A new level of feeling has been experienced for the benefit of all present.

After Finbar leaves with Jim, McPherson presents a surprising coup de grâce. Quietly, Jack shares his poignant, personal story of heartbreak, his own haunting by the living. In an intimate emotional release and expression of regret and vulnerability, Jack tells how he loved a woman he would have married, but he let her slip away for no particularly good reason. Mentoring the younger Brendan not to remain alone like he did, Jack says, “There’s not one morning I don’t wake up with her name in the room.”
McPherson’s theme is a giant one. Back in the day when the world was slower, folks sat and talked to each other in community and conviviality. With such an occasion for closeness, they dispelled feelings of isolation and hurt. As they connected, they helped redeem each other, confessing their problems, or swapping mysteries with no certain answers.
As the world modernized, the ebb and flow of the culture changed and became stopped up, controlled by outside forces. Blocked by fewer opportunities to connect, people retreated into themselves. The opportunities to share dried up, redirected by distractions, much as a dam might redirect the ebb and flow of a river and destroy a place where magical fairies once bathed.
McPherson’s terrific, symbolic play in the hands of O’Reilly, the ensemble and creative team is a nod to the “old ways.” It reminds us of the value of gathering around campfires, fireplaces or heating stoves to tell stories. As companions warm themselves, they unfreeze their souls, learn of each other, and break through the deep silences of human suffering to heal.
The Weir runs 1 hour 40 minutes with no intermission at Irish Repertory Theatre (132 West 22nd St). https://irishrep.org/tickets/
‘Babe,’ Theater Review: Marisa Tomei, Rocking Through to the Next Phase

Babe
Can people change? Or do they just flip their perspectives and deceive themselves to believe they’re “evolving?” In the New Group presentation of Babe, written by Jessica Goldberg, directed by Scott Elliott, Abigail (Marisa Tomei), is Gus’ (Arliss Howard), invaluable collaborator in the music industry. The comedy/drama focuses on a number of current issues using Abby and Gus’ relationship as a focal point to explore the landscape of shifting political correctness, power dynamics, generational conflicts, delayed self-actualization, and more. With original music by the trio BETTY, Babe runs approximately 85 minutes with no intermission at the Signature Center until December 22nd.
Treading lightly on Gus’ rocky ground, Abby has been instrumental in maintaining their successful, collegial relationship for thirty-two years, though at a steep, personal price. She hasn’t acknowledged the sacrifice to herself or been inspired to make a change until the confident, twenty-nine year old, Katherine, interviews with Gus, while Abby monitors their conversation and tries to give him clues when to end his political incorrectness. Katherine’s poise and forward attitude develops during the play as the catalyst which ignites a fire that turns into a conflagration between Gus, Abby and Katherine by the conclusion.

Tomei’s astute Abby is sensitive and insightful
Tomei’s astute Abby provides the sensitivity and insight into the zeitgeist that electrifies fans and brings in the gold records, a number of which hang on the walls of Gus’s chic office (sleek, versatile set design by Derek McLane). The producing legend now in his 60s, but fronting his hip, “with-it” ethos in his tight, black pants, chains, stylized beret, and black leather jacket (Jeff Mahshie, costume design), is at “the top of his game,”and on a down-hill slide, indicated by the sensitivity-training Abby references he has had to withstand. We learn it has been ordered by patriarchal, music company head Bob, who also needs to correct himself, but is powerful enough not to. The hope is with Abby’s continual guidance, and the training, Gus’ boorish, self-absorbed, toxic maleness and unrestrained egotism, encouraged at the company by the other men in the past, will refine. Not a chance, as old dogs refuse to learn new tricks.
As groundbreaking, protective and vital as Abby has been to Gus, the two A & R reps, who have discovered and fashioned some of the most successful solo artists in the business, are not equal in stature, success or monetary rewards. Abby’s discovery of Kat Wonder epitomizes these disparities between her boss Gus, and her, as his second. The only woman in the company for years, Abby suffered through the vulgar and abusive patriarchy, a fact she admits late in the play. To her credit, she managed to gain Gus and the others’ respect and esteem. They keep her around because, as Gus suggests, they think she is like them. We learn by degrees that this is because she is silent and as apparently sedate as her bland, grey pants, white top and black jacket. She is unobtrusive and remains professional, the perfect “Girl Friday,” who allows them to “let it all hang out,” without judging their behavior or making them feel like pigs.

Abby is shut out of receiving credit for her sterling efforts
For her pains to participate, Abby didn’t receive credit on any of the Kat Wonder albums, an “invisible” co-producer. Nor did she share in the spoils as Gus did with global residences and a townhouse he forces the staff to meet in at his convenience, instead of the conference room.
However, ignoring Gus as “all that,” Katherine conflicts with his philosophy, his pronouncements, his ideas. If opposites attract, these two are an exception. Gus sees Katherine’s cultural approaches as pretentious and immaterial (vegan he is not). Katherine is gently oppositional as she pitches herself, her education and background. Interestingly, Katherine sees Abby as a hero to admire. In the initial meet-up, Katherine recognizes Abby from a photo Abby appears in with phenom of the time, “Kat Wonder” at CBGB.Admiring Abby and fawning over her after the interview, Katherine tells Abby that she has been her inspiration to get into the business and wanted to be her.
As obnoxious as Katherine’s forward presumptuousness is, her confidence and appearance remind Abby of Kat Wonder, whose wild grace and energy haunts her throughout the play. Kat appears in her imagination in flashbacks at varying, crucial turning points, with Gracie McGraw doubling for Kat Wonder. These memories of their time together direct Abby toward self-realization and an eventual confrontation with Gus about his unjust treatment of her. This is obviously a painful realization which Abby eventually allows, despite acknowledging Gus’ platonic love, and respect. His concern for her is apparent when he sits with her during a very uncomfortable chemo treatment for her breast cancer.

Katherine visits Abby in an unusual get-together
After Katherine again attempts to rise in the company in another interaction with Gus, she visits Abby at her apartment (McLane’s set design again shines in the transition from Gus’ office to Abby’s apartment and back). They listen to music and Katherine asks Abby probing questions. Then they rock out to music and she dances with Abby, at which point Katherine pushes herself on Abby. Abby is forced to rebuff her because any relationship between them is inappropriate. Nevertheless, this trigger, Goldberg implies, impacts Abby. Abby’s remembrance of her relationship with Kat brings her into a deepening realization of herself because of her experiences, including feeling responsible for Kat Wonder’s death, and being shut out of the glory of notoriety as producer who discovered grunge-rocker Kat.
Abby’s realizations about what she has allowed emotionally, which may have contributed to her physical illness and stress, coupled with a twist that Katherine generates, bring about a surprising conclusion. However, Abby’s response to the final events is the most crucial and important. Maybe it is possible in one’s middle age to forge a new path and become one’s own self-proclaimed star.

The ensemble melds with authenticity and flair
The actors convey their characters with spot-on authenticity, aptly shepherded by Elliot’s direction. Arliss Howard manages to break through Gus’ character with a winning charm and matter-of-factness, which throws dust in the audience’s eyes, even after Katherine corrects his back-handed compliment of her as a “smart girl.” Marisa Tomei as Abby is imminently watchable and versatile as she moves from quiet restraint, to the throes of physical and emotional suffering. The development and culmination of her rage and satisfying expression of it in rocking-out with Kat Wonder is powerful especially at the conclusion. As always Tomei gives it the fullness of her talent, rounding out the Abby’s humanity despite Goldberg’s thin characterization.
Gracie McGraw’s portrayal of Kat Wonder, the 1990s grunge rocker who embodied “centuries of female rage,” before she self-destructed is too brief, perhaps. Much is suggested in Kat’s and Abby’s relationship, but remains opaque. However, we do get to see McGraw’s Kat cut loose. And the memory is so alive and vibrant, it encourages Tomei’s Abby to be her own rock-star, wailing out her repressed rage by the conclusion of Babe. And the women in the audience wail with her, especially now, after the election.

Babe covers many interesting points. To what extent has music been egregiously shaped by the current technologies? What damage has been done as the music and entertainment industry, hypocritically shaped by cultural politics, only creates artificial boundaries on the surface that don’t penetrate the noxious back room parties and behaviors which have given rise to worse abuses? Another issue defines the difficulties of compromise and corruption which spans every institution, every industry. To be a part, one has to be complicit, and then be satisfied with less of a reward because others hold the power and money and make up the rules. Babe scratches the surface and leaves food for thought. The performances are noteworthy and should be seen.
Kudos to the creatives not mentioned before which include Cha See (lighting design), Jessica Paz (sound design), Matthew Armentrout (hair and wig design), and not enough of BETTY’S original music.
Babe runs 85 minutes with no intermission at the Signature Center.
‘Brooklyn Laundry’ a Soap-diluted Rom-com That Avoids the Soul-dirt

John Patrick Shanley’s Brooklyn Laundry, currently at MTC Stage 1 never quite elucidates trenchant themes though it might have with further character development. The 80 minute play, also directed by Shanley, currently runs at New York City Center Stage 1 until April 14th.
Starring Cecily Strong (“Saturday Night Live”), and David Zayas (“Dexter’), as the principal couple who meet in a drop-off laundry in Bushwick, Brooklyn, in Brooklyn Laundry Shanley presents two individuals who become involved with each other as a result of desperation, depression and loneliness. Also, they are between partners and have not been involved in a successful relationship ever.

The Meet-Up
Laundry owner Owen (the lively Zayas), engages in light conversation with Strong’s Fran as the play opens. She is an on again off again customer, whose boyfriend left. Fran admits later in the scene that she is self-conscious about the fact that she can barely scrounge enough laundry to drop off for one load. When she was with her boyfriend, the bag weighed thirty-eight pounds; they did their laundry together. Owen, who Fran reminds that he owes her credit for losing a bag of her laundry 6 months prior, acknowledges that her lost laundry is a mystery. He has been giving her credit, though she complains that it doesn’t cover the price of replacing the missing items.
As they chit chat, Owen notes her “gloomy” nature to jostle her out of it. He tells her she reminds him of his fiance, who was “smart, one inch from terrific, but gloomy.” Fran disputes his label about her and suggests reality has brought issues into her life, and it isn’t without reason that her situation doesn’t make her the sunshine kid.

Owen discusses the necessity for positivity and an uplifted attitude, sharing his recent life story. He became the owner of three laundries, after a car accident settlement and lawsuit against his 9 to 5 boss who unfairly fired him. Assured that he has answers for her life in the face of her wishing she could have a car accident and be so lucky for monetary settlements, he takes a leap of faith. With apparent confidence he asks her to dinner. Fran suggests she will after she returns from a family visit in Pennsylvania.
Shanley has established the ground rules for these two individuals from different backgrounds with little in common, who make a connection simply by being present together and willing it. From this initial spark, Shanley takes us on a journey of how unlikely singles Fran and Owen fall in love because of need.
Reality’s Gloom and Fran’s Escape

In the next segment, we understand why Fran is depressed when she visits her sister Trish (Florencia Lozano), who is ill with cancer, loopy on meds and lying in bed mostly unconscious. After her visit with Trish, Fran goes on her date with Owen high on magic mushrooms. She offers some to Owen and after a while he catches up to her. Together they experience the beauty of the lights and atmosphere of romanticism and their conversation intensifies.
On a sub rosa level, Fran introduces the mushrooms into the situation because she wants to escape thoughts about her dying sister. She chooses to live in a lovely, seductive place with Owen. She doesn’t share her Trish reality with him for fear it will drive him away. So she suppresses her emotions to suit his needs to be positive and upbeat. She puts aside her gloominess, despite the fact that complications with Trish abound and she has less than a month to live.

The mushrooms encourage their intimacy and Fran helps Owen conquer his sexual problems that happened as a result of his car accident, problems which turned off his former girlfriend who dumped him as a result of his poor performance. Interestingly, Owen is honest about a very sensitive subject with Fran and of course she helps him. On the other hand, Fran is dishonest with Owen because he set the parameters that she feels she must adhere to to be with him: no gloom. Thus, Fran and Owen become closer after their first date of intimacy, and after three weeks, theirs is a budding love.
However, another jolt of reality intrudes and slams Fran in her “honesty” with Owen. Fran’s other sister Susie (Andrea Syglowski is always spot-on), stops by to collect Fran so together they will make arrangements for Trish’s imminent death. Fran refuses to go with Susie initially. She fears if she leaves Owen to spend time with family, she will lose the momentum of their relationship and he will dump her for someone else. With lies of omission, she lives in her own dream that she can spin along her affair with Owen without introducing the ugly realities about Trish dying.
The argument that ensues between Strong’s Fran and Sydlowski’s Susie about whether to visit Trish before she dies is beautifully paced and authentically threaded by both actors. During their accusations against each other, we learn how high the stakes are for Fran, who has never been married and has been the hand maiden to her two divorced sisters and their relationships with their loser husbands. We realize why she elected to escape to a love relationship with someone off beat which she clings to so she doesn’t have to face the doom and sadness of her life. Because Owen doesn’t appreciate negativity, his wants prevent her from spilling her emotions to him. Ironically, she is cutting off a valuable part of herself because she fears he only wants “happy, happy.”

Spoiler Alert
Then Susie levels with Fran about why she didn’t accompany her to see Trish the last visit. Susie is dying of pancreatic cancer.
With charming facility Owen cleaned off the “gloomies” from Fran’s plate to no avail. Susie’s horrible news slams Fran with a triple portion of gloom. Not only must she confront Trish’s impending death and the consequences of its impact on Trish’s young child, Taylor, she must confront the consequences of Susie’s dire prognosis. Fran’s doom and gloom lifted for three weeks by Owen will be a permanent fixture in her life. Additionally, guardianship of her sisters’ three children and their financial custodianship falls to her as their closest living relative. Will Owen want to take on a woman with three kids especially since he confessed he only wants his own child and isn’t looking for huge bills to pay for the upkeep of children who aren’t his?
The strength of Brooklyn Laundry is in how Shanley weaves the events, to back Fran into a corner delivering reality’s blows to her life, while showing her desperation to escape her circumstances by not sharing the truth with Owen. Eventually, her own obfuscations come back to haunt her. When Susie tells her about her cancer, Fran wakes up and stops moving in her imagined dream. She assures Susie she will act responsibly. Shanley’s characterization of Fran reveals her nobility, self-sacrifice and integrity in honoring her sisters by raising their children. She has made up her mind and whatever Owen does is up to him, take it or leave it. Fran puts family first.

The Last 10 Minutes
The last ten minutes of Brooklyn Laundry are the most dynamic because we note the inner struggles of the characters as they deal with hidden truths. Fran confronts Owen who stopped answering her calls. Though he portrays himself as the victim and ignores her comments that he ghosted her, something he promised he would never do, eventually, he is forced to put his pride aside. They both realize what they will lose without each other, and they are able to accept with humility that they care.
Shanley perhaps misses important dramatic moments by having the characters report their reactions after the fact to each other, instead of establishing a few scenes that are immediate, confrontational and a dynamic build up with irony. Instead, he writes one scene of alive confrontation and saves it for the very end. It is then that Fran’s serenity with reality shines and Owen reveals himself to be a typical male, more full of himself than he needs to be. However, after Fran walks out of his life to live in Pennsylvania, he realizes his mistake. The play’s conclusion falls into place with a few humorous surprises to satisfy audiences.
Kudos to the involved three-set scenic design of Santo Loquasto, Suzy Benzinger’s costume design, Brian MacDevitt’s lighting design. MacDevitt presents the magical fairy land lighting of the restaurant scene perfectly. Additional kudos goes to original music and sound design by John Gromada.
Brooklyn Laundry is facile and enjoyable thanks to the excellent acting ensemble. Shanley’s rhythms about loss, need and taking risks without ego are imminently human and recognizable.
Brooklyn Laundry with no intermission is in a limited engagement until April 14th. New York City Center MTC Stage 1, 131 West 55th St between 6th and 7th. manhattantheatreclub.com.







