Conor McPherson’s The Seafarer is a dark comedy that explores guilt, regret and the demon drink through a blend of materiality, metaphor and mysticism. Directed by Harvey Levkoe, Toronto Irish Players’ engrossing production of this award-winning play at Alumnae Theatre delivers laughter, pathos and unexpected optimism.
In a dingy and dilapidated apartment in Baldoyle, a coastal settlement north of Dublin, five men come together on Christmas Eve for a day and night of drinking and poker. A ragtag bunch, they make liberal (and ironic) use of the phrase “There’s a good man” with each other – though beneath the hilarity, they are battling one other and their inner demons: unemployment, anger, jealousy, fractured relationships and violence. The men’s dependence on alcohol to escape from their daily existence and “to kill all the pain” aggravates their problems and has blinded them: one literally (in a drunken dumpster accident); another near-literally, after misplacing his eyeglasses; and the rest figuratively. In an elaboration of this dynamic, the poker stakes unexpectedly become a Faustian matter of life and death for main character Sharky (David Lang).
The dysfunctional lives of these flawed characters are reflected in the neglect, clutter, and disrepair of Richard’s home, which is conjured by a set packed with furnishings, curios and party debris assembled by designer Wayne Cardinalli. Spending so much time with five such men in this cramped setting should be claustrophobic, but instead, thanks to McPherson’s script, Levkoe’s direction and a brilliant cast, it is engrossing to watch the play’s unexpected events unspool through their conversation. McPherson has imbued each man with a distinctive personality, and the show’s all-male ensemble realizes each of them with a mix of bombast, sensitivity and clarity. Differently – but always relatably – human, they mine each foolhardy, exasperating or wistful speech for its full comic – or tragic – potential.
The blind Richard Harkin, who is brought to vivid, belligerent life by Daryn DeWalt, is the epitome of domineering, self-satisfied drunkenness. Cantankerous and foul-mouthed, he boasts stained clothes (costumes by Bernadette Hunt), and non-existent personal hygiene (which he describes to his friends in “ew”- inducing detail). He hurls insults while barking orders at his brother, is oblivious to the irony of singing drunken carols and hymns, and – (the blind leading the metaphorically blind – takes his friends out in street salvos to fight the noisy neighbourhood “winos” with his white cane.
David Lang elicits sympathy in a terrific performance as the hangdog James “Sharky” Harkin. He has devilish impulses and has done wrong, but has come to see his faults and mistakes. Determined to take control of his life, he has sworn off liquor for the holidays – an idea that prompts merciless needling from Richard. Yet despite their fractious relationship, a solicitous Sharky cares for his brother and his motley visitors: first with resignation, then with acceptance. Lang movingly captures Sharky’s regret and pathos. In his portrayal, we can locate the play’s titular concept (based on the Old-English poem of the same name) of a mariner navigating his way through life in search of a path to happiness.
The brothers’ friend Ivan Curry, played with befuddled affability by Rob Candy, provides comic relief and a smile-inducing contrast to the hard-edged Richard. Ivan dwells in drunken fog: he cannot find his glasses, remember where his car is, or even recognize his wife on the street after leaving a pub. Telling himself that he means well, he stays out drinking with Richard and the boys to be social at Christmastime, then cries because his wife views this choice less charitably. So to console himself . . . he has another drink.
Sharky’s over-confident rival Nicky Giblin, a visitor to Richard’s home played with a rakish swagger by Gavin Magrath, prompts further conflict between the brothers. For Nicky has taken up with Sharky’s girl, Eileen. With Nicky comes the uninvited and mysterious Mr Lockhart, whose arrival ratchets up the tension and intrigue. Although Sharky doesn’t recognize him, it turns out that he and Lockhart have a history. Chris Irving makes the most of his pivotal role as the dapper, eloquent and enigmatic Mr. Lockhart. During his scenes, the lighting (by Mary Jane Boon) dims and spotlights him to underscore his central role and the mystical elements in this comic parable. McPherson’s ear for dialogue finds fertile ground in Mr Lockhart’s monologues, which – delivered by Irving with a chilling baritone menace – illuminate the play’s title by connecting the hilarious and shabby mundanity on display to the deeper mystical and metaphysical questions beneath. His dissatisfaction with life and meandering from one place to another, one thing to the next, evokes the searching seafarer of the title and the existential question, “is this all there is in life?”
In the end, thanks to a wonderful and unexpected plot twist, The Seafarer is a celebration of human agency: the joy of being alive, the choice to “raise a glass” (or put one down), and the ability we all have to make choices that just might lead to a brighter future. One choice that will yield a brighter afternoon or evening is a visit to Toronto Irish Players’ strongly-cast, movingly performed and tightly directed production of The Seafarer. The show runs until March 4. Reserve tickets on Artspeople or by contacting info@torontoirishplayers.com.
Arpita Ghosal, SesayArts Magazine, 2023
