


What is it with Stage West and Christmas-time plays performed outside of November/December? In August, they took audiences on Paula Vogel's twisted The Long Christmas Ride Home, and now, as the string lights and dancing Santas are finally packed away, Stage West offers up another dark voyage with Conor McPherson's The Seafarer.
Actually, the SW producers should be congratulated for selecting such daring works and not staging them in the midst of everyone else's Best Christmas Pageant Evers and Nutcrackers. Nobody really needs his/her yuletide cheer knocked down three ladders' worth of rungs, as might result from viewing a realtime thread about drinking oneself into oblivion, shadowy pasts and the devil seeking out his debtors on Christmas Eve. Those are the basics of McPherson's harrowing—and surprisingly funny—The Seafarer.
This is Stage West's fourth outing with McPherson, and as directed by Rene Moreno, its most successful.
Sharky (Matthew Stephen Tompkins) and his brother Richard (Jim Covault), who was blinded in a funny-sounding dumpster accident, live in the same house. Early on, we learn that Richard loves the drink and that Sharky used to, but now abstains as it's what cost him a series of jobs and relationships. Their friend Ivan (Chuck Huber) is always hanging around and passing the bottle, too. When another friend Nicky (Chris Hauge) shows up, the festivities turn into a poker game. Sounds like any other night at Sharky and Richard's place, except this time Nicky has brought a devilish guest, Mr. Lockhart (Jerry Russell).
Before the latter's arrival, it's apparent that Sharky is a man troubled by his past. But things become clearer after Lockhart—who actually is the devil—makes his mission known. He has come to make good on Sharky's onetime selling of his soul when times where rough(er). So, this card game in which Sharky had previously declined participation, the stakes will be extremely high.
McPherson's dialogue here is his snappiest yet, he's able to take our imaginations into these people's pasts—even giving us vivid character sketches—in just a few lines. When, in the second act, Lockhart gives his exquisite speech about hell and heaven, it's clear that the playwright hasn't lost the gift of monologue he displayed in earlier works like St. Nicholas.
Moreno is an actor's director, so it's no surprise that 4/5 of this cast give finely tuned portrayals (Hauge is not in the same league with the others). And, as usual, Stage West proves its excellence with Irish accents.
Russell makes for a frightening bad guy, not as physical threat but a psychological one. Huber is perfect as the sidekick who'll never be in the background of this group. Covault, who often relies on the same sourpuss mannerisms, opens up for a hilarious, unrestrained performance—his best in years. Tompkins is a powerful presence whose sadness permeates the proceedings and sets the play's tone, sustaining that all the way through.
The play happens on Christmas Eve, and there are a few reminders of the season on set—a sad Christmas tree and scattered presents—but this is not a show that fits into the typical holiday mold, thus Stage West's post-December production. Still, it sticks around like a holiday hangover that won't let you forget the time you had getting there.
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