A Quietly Devastating Tale

This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

The New York Sun

Conor McPherson has never been much for the whole Playwriting 101 notion of “show, don’t tell.” In his best-known play, “The Weir,” and numerous others, he has found a surprising amount of success in telling stories about people telling stories. “Shining City” is no exception, and its discursive structure offers the compact pleasures of a finely crafted novella.

Mr. McPherson’s curiously touching drama “Shining City” hinges on a plot point that cannot in good conscience be divulged or even hinted at. But it also stems from a steady patience on his part, a willingness to let conversations progress at their own speed, with all their stumbles and dead ends. All the while, he has hidden within the chatter a quietly devastating tale of suppressed guilt and hard-won grace.

Mr. McPherson and director Robert Falls have combined two fairly common stories: A grieving husband coming to terms with his past and a therapist wrestling with his own demons. Both of these stories are told in unflashy, almost prosaic language, to the point where it can seem like there isn’t much happening.

Give it time. Messrs. McPherson and Falls navigate this well-traveled road with precision and clarity, subsuming their ample theatrical gifts into a structure that requires a fairly prolonged set-up. Along the way, they set up an ending that is both psychologically feasible and theatrically exquisite.

Three well-paced scenes chart the progress made over several months between Ian (Brian F. O’Byrne), a soft-spoken priest turned therapist, and John (Oliver Platt), a genial, somewhat lonely man who arrives with some trepidation at Ian’s makeshift Dublin office. (Santo Loquasto designed the suitably musty set.) John’s wife died in a car crash a few months earlier, but she is still very much a presence in his life.

In fact, as John tells it, Mari is still a presence in their house. Soaking wet, dirty, wearing a coat John bought for her out of guilt, opening her mouth in a sort of silent scream, her ghostly image has driven John out of the house into a local bed-and-breakfast for the last several sleepless nights.

Ian is skeptical of the supernatural elements of the story, and he begins to help John address the residual emotions that may be fueling these visions. As John unburdens himself of his past deeds, including two botched attempts at infidelity, the sessions lead to a tentative friendship.

Separating their scenes together are Ian’s interactions with two other characters, the mother of his baby (an understated but effective Martha Plimpton) and a grungy male prostitute (Peter Scanavino). Each of these scenes offers a glimpse – but not too much of a glimpse – beyond Ian’s placid, empathic affect. Ian never really settles into his office, and it seems as though his roots tend not to go very deep in any aspect of his life: not in his vocation or in his relationship or in the sort of self-examination that would give him the peace of mind he offers John. (Mr. Falls’s use of the ethereal country-folk of Gene Clark and Neil Young conveys this restlessness beautifully.)

Mr. O’Byrne, with his vague features and gentle voice, would appear to have the makings of a marvelous therapist. Watching him, as Ian registers the effect of his sparingly used words on both men, offers a glimpse into minimalist stage acting at its most involving. And Mr. Platt complements him beautifully as the loquacious John; using his hearty bonhomie to wonderful effect, he creates a not-half-bad guy who talks so much in part out of habit and in part out of terror of what might emerge from the silence.

(One quibble: The trend of patently unconvincing Irish accents on Broadway, which in just the last week has claimed two-thirds of the “Faith Healer” cast and the newest member of the “Lieutenant of Inishmore” company, has a new proponent in Mr. Platt.)

I have refrained from directly quoting any of Mr. McPherson’s dialogue. On a line-by-line basis, little of it stands out as particularly epigrammatic or haunting. But by the final scene, a leave-taking of sorts between John and Ian, the seemingly disparate plot strands have coalesced into a reverberant, visually stunning whole. Only then does it become clear what “Shining City” really is – a very good story unspooled by a very good storyteller. And boy, does it give you the shivers.

Until July 16 (261 W. 47th Street, between Broadway and Eighth Avenue, 212-239-6200).


The New York Sun

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