The Weir

Or: Things that Haunt Us

On the summer height of Bogus Basin, under a brilliant, fiery sunset Boise Contemporary Theater brought us the second of their Mountain Readings series. Tonight, as the wind whistled early through the microphones and a pleasant chill settled on the assembled, we were brought into the world of Conor Mcpherson’s The Weir.

A few Irish bachelors, led by gather at their country pub (led by Jack (Joe Golden) followed by the reticent Jimmy (Ben Burdick) and served by barman Brendan (Chris Canfield), gather to drink and speculate about the newcomer to their community, Valerie (Amela Karadza), a single young woman from Dublin who is being taken around under the wing of local businessman Finbar Mack (Gordon Reinhart). With the night settling around them the talk turns to tales of ghosts and otherworldly visitors and other pointed things that haunt the human heart.

It sounds very promising in person but on the page, Mcpherson’s stories lie like chants of granite. It takes a truly competent cast of actors to spread out the words and see the lines of electricity that flow through them, “the demons breathing behind the words.” The old grudges, old jokes, the shifting matters of class and money, desire and compassion that lay over the glib pub talk that the gleaming cast adeptly steers. Of particular note are Golden and Burdick, the former in full Irish vibrancy and moments of grace, who knows just how long to hold a dagger sharp line before dropping and flipping it into a joke. Burdick nails the diffidence of Jimmy, standing slightly angled to the cast, arms folded, his sentences rising and falling like whales backs, turning a diffident shy fellow into a full tapestry of life and dignity.

Though I’ll be speaking in brogue for several days to come, The Weir, was a fabulous play in an enchanted setting. I’d love to see the full version, made dark and closeted, and with time enough to see the ghosts in the actors eyes.