• The Luck of Conor McPherson
• Lost at Sea
• Before the Devil Knows You're Dead...

The Luck of Conor McPherson

Conor McPherson, photo by Peter Sumner Walton Bellamy

McPherson began writing short stories in his teens, drawing on past encounters with strict Catholic schools and a subsequent questioning of religion and faith. He started writing drama while studying philosophy at University of Dublin, incorporating the search for meaning with dialogue drawn from his view of the simple animal disposition of human beings. His plays are an inquiry into the nature of existence, rigorously informed by his experiences growing up the only boy in a middle-class Dublin family, embracing his culture while in the same breath rejecting its dogmatic view of life. In a profile in American Theatre magazine, just after the Broadway opening of The Seafarer, it was said of his work: “The recurring themes in McPherson’s plays—the ghosts, the dissection of the masculine psyche, the hilarity of human folly and bawdiness, fraternity, violence, law-breaking and death—form his own branch of epistemology.”

He is a rare artist that has, for the most part, always done what he loved, writing his first play, Rum and Vodka, while still a student. In the more than 15 years since, McPherson has continued to write and direct, rising to international acclaim—as Ben Brantley said in The New York Times, McPherson is “quite possibly the finest playwright of his generation.” He drew attention with his early plays, including This Lime Tree Bower and St. Nicholas, and earned wild success with The Weir, winning the Olivier Award for Best New Play in 1999. This success was followed by Dublin Carol, Port Authority, and Shining City, which was nominated for a Tony Award for Best Play in 2006. The Broadway production of The Seafarer, which McPherson also directed, was nominated for a Tony Award for Best Play in 2007.

Breaking with Tradition
McPherson’s plays echo the poetic, familiar Ireland of Joyce, Beckett, and Synge, with their sense of hard-won joy, entrenched faith, and fierce commitment to family. They also reach beyond tradition to tell of contemporary Ireland, stories of a once-rural people at odds with their place in the new international, economically driven society. His characters are lost souls, searching in an unfamiliar landscape that isn’t entirely the past or quite yet the future. Within this dichotomous Ireland, McPherson creates a sense of uneasiness his inhabitants combat by clinging to the elemental components of Irish culture.

The Seafarer, written in 2006, mingles these traits in an unusual extended family celebration at Christmastime. The brothers, Sharky, struggling with sobriety, and Richard, who is both blind and blind drunk, are hosting a trio of lads for a Christmas Eve card game: Ivan, helpless without his glasses which he lost while jarred the night before; Nicky, an amiable but sketchy man currently living with Sharky’s ex; and Mr. Lockhart, a stranger who turns out to be a devil of a guest.

“The Seafarer is a very Catholic play,” McPherson told American Theatre. “It sort of accepts that Christian framework, the Devil and God, redemption. I can use those archetypes but hopefully move more toward pagan ends than Roman Catholic ones.” Along with his use of religion, McPherson weaves a sense of magic and myth into his tales—especially in The Seafarer—embracing the supernatural or mysterious parts of life that don’t make sense. A self-described pagan, he places luck, chance, and fate in parallel with Catholicism.

Another often-invoked mainstay of Irish culture is alcohol, which is regularly delivered hand-in-hand with religion. A former alcoholic (sober after a 2001 collapse from life-threatening pancreatitis on the New York opening night of Port Authority led to a two-month hospital stay), McPherson is unapologetic about Ireland’s love affair with the drink, a relationship that provides the swirling backdrop for many of his plays. Always philosophical, he cites the benefits of drinking to the craft of playwriting. “Intoxication takes you on a great journey,” he says. “It has a beginning, middle, and an end, like any good story.”

The lads in The Seafarer take their journey of intoxication very seriously. Over the course of the play, and their lives, they maintain a level of drunkenness that inspires the observer to be both impressed and concerned. These men willfully self-destruct and then, in their darkest hour, stumble toward forgiveness and redemption in an impossible cycle. While it is easy to see the cycle as toxic, in Ireland at least, it is only with the knowledge of darkness that light can be seen.

The Darkest Hour
One of McPherson’s inspirations while writing The Seafarer was a monument in Ireland, a 5,000-year-old tomb called Newgrange. It is a man-made structure with a tunnel descending into the earth, pierced by a central shaft. On the winter solstice, the darkest day of the year, the sun shines directly down and bathes the chamber in light. McPherson says, “That image was mind-blowing to me—so simple, spiritual, and amazing. . . . The devil . . .  [is] a force of nature coming into the play. He’s scary, but he’s also an agent of change for the characters. He is the darkness we need in our lives to recognize what’s important and hopeful.”

Calling The Seafarer his most optimistic play yet, McPherson has written an unlikely holiday tale with the familiar carols (though slurred), celebration (with an endless parade of empty bottles), family (reluctantly embraced), and peace (if only for the moment). If this sounds contradictory, then you must not be Irish.

Lost at Sea

He knows not
Who lives most easily on land, how I
Have spent my winter on the ice-cold sea
Wretched and anxious, in the paths of exile
Lacking dear friends, hung round by icicles
While hail flew past in showers . . .
—Anonymous, The Seafarer c. 755 A.D.
translated from the Anglo Saxon by Richard Hamer

Howth, Co. Dublin, Ireland, photo by Gary McGlue

The silhouette of The Seafarer casts a lonesome shadow against the grey stormy ocean. Always moving, he has adapted to isolation, anxiously surveying the horizon as he is tossed from one port to the next by the pitching cold water.

He is a familiar figure in Baldoyle, a settlement on the west coast of Ireland that is home to the characters in Conor McPherson’s The Seafarer. The sprawling suburbs of Dublin have absorbed the once-rural fishing village of Baldoyle, which overlooks Howth Head (Binn Éadair), a hilly headland on Howth peninsula marking the northern arm of Dublin Bay.

The character of The Seafarer has been immortalized in the great 8th century Anglo Saxon poem, which also provides the title of and the epigraph to McPherson’s play. It is the story of a man literally and spiritually lost at sea, cursed by free will, living in self-imposed exile, unable to return to the comforts of family and firm ground. The Seafarer of the poem describes a night of stoic endurance, loneliness, and spiritual yearning, and underscores the disparity between the comfortable life on land and that of the frozen mariner.

The community of Baldoyle and its people are navigating turbulent changes as their traditional community surges into a contemporary world. In an area that is changing with the tides they feel adrift, trapped between the sea and the city, what they once were and what they’ll become. When faced with an unsettled sea, there are three options: stubbornly keep moving forward into the swelling waves, cut all losses and drop anchor, or have a few whiskeys and ride out the storm.

Before the devil knows you’re dead . . .

First Meeting between Faust and Mephistopheles: “Why all this Noise?,” from Goethe’s Faust, 1828, engraving by Eugene Delacroix

The diabolical pact, also known as “a deal with the devil,” is a cultural phenomenon that appears in every tradition where the devil is present. A person—usually out of desperation, ambition, or arrogance—trades his soul in exchange for favors, which most often include youth, knowledge, wealth, or power. The tale ends one of two ways, either with the human in triumph over the devil, wheedling his way out of the contract on a technicality, or with the shortsighted barterer on his way to eternal damnation.

The first known example of this infamous bargain is the story of Theophilus of Adana. An orthodox cleric in the 6th century, he was elected to office, but declined out of humility. He then grew  jealous of the man who was elected, and sought a wizard to help him contact Satan. In exchange for helping him attain his heart’s desire, Satan required Theophilus to denounce his faith and sign a contract in his own blood promising Satan his soul. After a lifetime of regret and fear, Theophilus fasted and prayed until he was visited by the Virgin Mary. He awoke to find the damned contract on his chest, and, after confessing, he died of relief, knowing he was saved.

Perhaps the best known version of the story is the tragic tale of Doctor Faustus. His name has titled plays, operas, ballets, song, poetry, film, and fiction, though the most renowned version is by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. In his epic play/poem hybrid, Faust: A Tragedy, the central character is a dynamic and charismatic doctor who has an insatiable desire to know the true meaning and essence of life. Realizing the limitations of mankind’s knowledge, he conjures the devil—in this story represented by the cunning Mephistopheles—and agrees to hand over his soul when he arrives at the highest place of knowledge and eternal happiness.

Another is the story of the Italian composer and violinist Niccolò Paganini. A musician of amazing talent, he possessed a virtuosity unmatched in his day, or perhaps ever. People were so astounded by his ability, stories began to circulate of demonic possession. In the 1920s, Delta blues guitarist Tommy Johnson was similarly accused of selling his soul to the devil at a crossroads in Mississippi. Like Paganini, he did nothing to dispel the rumors.

Variations on the deal-with-the-devil theme include literary works such as the great Russian novel The Master and Margarita, Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray, and Washington Irving’s The Devil and Tom Walker; Christopher Marlowe’s play, The Tragical History of Doctor Faustus; the Berlioz opera La Damnation de Faust and the Broadway musical Damn Yankees; the films Angel Heart, Barton Fink, and Bedazzled; the Marvel comic book hero Johnny Blaze, also known as Ghost Rider; and, of course, Charlie Daniels’ Band and their song “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” to name a few of the very many.

Individuals possessing amazing talent and skill, in real life and in fiction, have often been accused of dark dealings, as have people who stumbled on a bit of fortune or luck, the idea being that in the natural balance of the universe something good rarely happens unaccompanied by something wicked. The trick, as with all deals that are brokered, is to get more than you give. Though many of these stories end with the reckless soul seller repenting, pleading, or otherwise trying to weasel out of the deal when his time is up, many souls are won back due to divine intervention or some misstep on the part of the nefarious beast. Outwitting the devil is something to brag about, certainly if your soul lies in the balance. As the Irish blessing goes, “May you be in Heaven a full half hour before the devil knows you’re dead.”

JASSON MINADAKIS (Director) is in his second season as Artistic Director of Marin Theatre Company. He came to MTC from Atlanta where he was the Artistic Director at Actor's Express Theatre Company from 2003-06. From 1994­2002, he was the Producing Artistic Director of Cincinnati Shakespeare Festival, which he co-founded as Fahrenheit Theatre Company. This season he will direct Frankie & Johnny in the Clair De Lune and the West Coast premieres of Conor McPherson's The Seafarer and Octavio Solis' Lydia. At MTC he has directed A Streetcar Named Desire, Said Saïd, Love Song and The Subject Tonight is Love. Regional Credits include The Pillowman, Bug, The Love Song of J. Robert Oppenheimer, Killer Joe, The Goat or Who is Sylvia?, Blue/Orange, Hamlet, Copenhagen.

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CHRIS HOUSTON (Sound Designer) is a pianist, composer, and sound designer. He writes and designs for film, video, theater, and dance. His designs and compositions have been featured at Marin Theatre, Aurora Theatre, SF Playhouse, A.C.T., Center Repertory, Magic Theater, and SF Shakespeare. At MTC, he has recently designed Love Person, A Streetcar Named Desire, Said Said, Lovers and Executioners, and The Good German. Other recent productions include The Best Man, The Busy World is Hushed, Trojan Women, The Mousetrap, Hysteria, 6 Degrees of Separation, Jesus Hopped the “A” Train, and The Birthday Party. His music may be heard on the Emmy winning PBS news show “NOW.”

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JOHN FLANAGAN was previously seen in MTC’s productions of The Pavilion, The Hairy Ape, and Lady In The Dark. John also recently performed as Goss in SF Playhouse's production of Bug, as James Tyrone in the Hapgood Theatre's production of A Moon For The Misbegotten, and as Burns in Word for Word's BATCC award-winning Angel Face.

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ANDREW HURTEAU appeared most recently in multiple roles in ACT’s 2007 production of The Government Inspector. His last appearance at MTC was the 2001 production of Misalliance, directed by Amy Glazer. He has appeared with Aurora Theater Company, Word for Word, Cal Shakes, and many theaters throughout the Bay Area.

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This is Julian López-Morillas’ first appearance onstage at MTC, though in the 1980s he directed MTC productions of On The Verge, The Night Of The Tribades, and What The Butler Saw. Julian has acted and directed at all the major Bay Area theater companies and is a recipient of several Bay Area Critics Circle and Dramalogue Awards for both directing and acting.

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ANDY MURRAY appeared recently as Astrov in California Shakespeare Festival’s hit production of Uncle Vanya in summer 2007. He has worked at Berkeley Rep, ACT, San Jose Rep, and Magic Theatre, among others. He previously appeared in the 2002 MTC production of The Hairy Ape.

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ROBERT SICULAR has worked at every major Bay Area theater company, most recently in ACT’s 2007 production of ‘Tis a Pity She’s a Whore. He has appeared in over 80 Shakespeare productions including many of the great roles at festivals around the US, including California Shakespeare Festival and the Oregon Shakespeare Festival.

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