Review – Spooky yarns unspool in “The Weir” at Berkshire Theatre Group

It was a dark and stormy night in the Berkshires, with a wild wind and a sharp chill in the air — a perfect evening to settle into Berkshire Theatre Group’s cozy Unicorn Theatre in Stockbridge for a production of The Weir, by award-winning playwright Conor McPherson. This evening in the Irish countryside invites the audience to pull up a chair in the local pub, warm up by the cast-iron stove, and listen to some practiced storytellers tell tall tales of the spooky variety, lubricated by a few pints and shots of whisky, with the additional courage that comes from the presence of an attractive young woman who’s new in town.

Our storytellers are Jack (Sean Bridgers), who runs the local garage, his friend Jim (Joey Collins), who does odd jobs and sometimes lends a hand to Jack, and Finbar (Harry Smith), recipient of a nice inheritance, who owns the hotel in town and is also a real estate agent, which makes him the escort of Valerie — who is house hunting — and also the subject of Jack’s jealousy. Brendan (Philip Themio Stoddard), the pub’s easygoing owner and bartender, is also at hand, keeping the alcohol flowing and easing the tension between Jack and Finbar, who take humorous digs at each other that threaten to flare up into a serious row every now and again.

While the men’s egos are in play as they bicker and banter, their defenses fall away as each takes a turn recounting an unexplained, eerie experience from his past, leaving them all a little bewildered, shaken, and vulnerable. The men have shared and heard these tales many times before, but they still evoke awe in listener and speaker alike, and timeworn debates as to whether fairies exist. But nothing prepares them for the haunting story that Valerie recounts, which shakes each out of their habitual responses and brings the lively evening to a somber close.

Director Eric Hill does a remarkable balancing act with The Weir, as the mood switches from comedic bonhomie and back-and-forth ribbing, to the escalating tension of escalating one-upmanship and put downs, to wonder, reverie, and pathos at the unwinding of yarns. He maintains an unhurried pace as the evening unfolds. The set, designed by Randalls Parsons, makes the audience feel as if we’re right there at the pub, the radiant warmth of the cast iron stove nearly tangible, only lacking for a wee dram to warm us from the inside. Matthew Adelson’s lighting design subtly conveys the passage of time, as the light of the moon shifts as the night goes on, suggested by shifting shadows of window panes on the floor. Amy Avila’s costume design emphasizes the difference between Finbar, an imposing, self-assured  presence made even larger by his bright white showy suit, and scruffy Jack, in his dusky earth-tone woolens. Smith and Bridgers perfectly capture the rivalry between the two men and their sense of place in their community.

I’m no expert, but all of the actors could have fooled me into believing they were Irish natives, with some credit surely due to dialect coach Jennifer Scapetis. Isadora Wolfe deserves kudos for movement support, in particular for the realistic physical tension between Jack and Finbar, Brendan’s strong, reassuring presence, and Jim’s awkward stance and movements, replete with twitches, tics, hunched shoulders, disjointed hands, and darting eyes, all conveying his timidity and insecurity. (Collins deserves a serious massage after each performance of this tightly wound character.) Stephanie Jean Lane’s portrayal of Valerie, who seems transported to another time and space as she haltingly, achingly tells her tale, provides the biggest jolt of the evening, transfixing the characters and the audience alike. All elements combine to produce a spellbinding evening of theater, especially in the run up to Halloween.

Berkshire Theatre Group’s production of The Weir runs through October 27 at the Unicorn Theatre in Stockbridge, Massachusetts.