The Weir @ Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh, 19 Jan
The Weir has become a modern classic. The apparent contradiction in that label – the somewhat uneasy pairing of classic and contemporary – is in fact an apt way to understand McPherson’s piece. It has a timeless quality, or, more accurately, conveys a sense of having momentarily fallen out of the modern world. The play presents the power of the past, and how it can invade and disturb the present.
Set within a rudimentary pub (the Guinness tap is broken, leaving only bottles, and the only wine has been lingering in the house for over five years), the play presents a vision of rural isolation. The characters propping up publican Brendan’s bar are, like him, single men, for whom the pub promises more than a series of 'small' drams of whisky; it breaks the loneliness of their situation and satisfies the deep human need for connection.
The play is entirely talk – a jumble of stories, all ghostly in nature, told by each character in turn. If that sounds formulaic or forced, it never strikes as such. The exactly accurate rhythms of Irish speech, the idioms, the competition between the men, and the pure acting talent on display create an entirely believable world. Gary Lydon, in his guise as shabby, but quick-witted Jack, is especially mesmerising. His final monologue is beautifully poignant, encapsulating the play’s themes of memory, personal tragedy and moving on.
The Weir is incredibly traditional, the effects of new media and digitisation have no foothold; this is a play of pure storytelling. It is a drama that, despite its supernatural tales, emphasises a deeply felt humanity.
The Weir, The Royal Lyceum Theatre, 'til 6 Feb, 7:30pm, prices vary.