Conor McPherson Plays: Two (NHB Modern Plays)

Conor McPherson

• Publisher: Nick Hern Books
• Year: 2014
• ISBN:
  9781780014029
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Drama
• Index: Literature

The second collection of plays from the multi-award winning author.

Featuring:

The Weir
A magical, compelling play set in present day Dublin on Christmas Eve. Undertaker John Plunkett is sharing memories of funerals over the years and dispensing advice to his young assistant. But the arrival of his daughter Mary - estranged, grown-up - shows him the time has come to face up to his own disastrous past. Otherwise, he will never be able to create some kind of truce with his fear of the future.

Dublin Carol
The spellbinding, beautifully observed hit from the master of suspenseful realism; combining superbly chilling tales of the supernatural with the hilarious banter of a small community in the heart of rural Ireland. Olivier Award for Best New Play
Evening Standard Award for Best New Playwright
Critic's Circle Award for Most Promising New Playwright

Port Authority
A wry, moving, funny tale of how modern man faces up to the responsibility of love, woven in monologues.

Come On Over
A short play about a Jesuit priest, sent to investigate a 'miracle' in his home town, who re-encounters the woman who loved him thirty years before.

The collection also features an Afterword and in-depth interview with the author.

'already heir to the great Irish tradition of absorbing tale-telling' - Guardian

'The finest dramatist of his generation' - Telegraph

THE WEIR

The Weir was first performed at the Royal Court Theatre Upstairs, West Street, London, on 4 July 1997. The cast was as follows:

JIM	Kieran Ahern
BRENDAN	Brendan Coyle
VALERIE	Julia Ford
FINBAR	Gerard Horan
JACK	Jim Norton

Director	Ian Rickson
Designer	Rae Smith
Lighting Designer	Paule Constable
Music	Stephen Warbeck

The production transferred to the Royal Court Theatre Downstairs, St Martin’s Lane, London, on 18 February 1998 where it played for two years with successive cast changes.

The Weir was revived at the Donmar Warehouse, London, on 25 April 2013 (previews from 18 April), with the following cast:

FINBAR	Risteárd Cooper
JACK	Brian Cox
VALERIE	Dervla Kirwan
BRENDAN	Peter McDonald
JIM	Ardal O’Hanlon

Director	Josie Rourke
Designer	Tom Scutt
Lighting Designer	Neil Austin
Sound Designer	Ian Dickinson
Casting Director	Alastair Coomer CDG

Characters

JACK, fifties

BRENDAN, thirties

JIM, forties

FINBAR, late forties

VALERIE, thirties

The play is set in a rural part of Ireland, Northwest Leitrim or Sligo. Present day. Stage setting: a small rural bar.

A counter, left, with three bar taps. The spirits are not mounted, simply left on the shelf. There are three stools at the counter.

There is a fireplace, right. There is a stove built into it. Near this is a low table with some small stools and a bigger, more comfortable chair, nearest the fire. There is another small table, front, with a stool or two.

On the wall, back, are some old black and white photographs: a ruined abbey; people posing near a newly erected ESB weir; a town in a cove with mountains around it.

An old television is mounted up in a corner. There is a small radio on a shelf behind the bar.

A door, right, is the main entrance to the bar. A door, back, leads to the toilets and a yard.

This bar is part of a house and the house is part of a farm.

The door, right, opens. JACK comes in. He wears a suit which looks a bit big for him, and a white shirt open at the collar. Over this is a dirty anorak. He takes the anorak off and hangs it up. He wipes his boots aggressively on a mat.

He goes behind the counter. He selects a glass and goes to pour himself a pint of stout. Nothing comes out of the tap. He vainly tries it again and looks underneath the counter. He turns and takes a bottle from the shelf, awkwardly prising off the top. He pours it and leaves it on the bar to settle. He turns to the till which he opens with practised, if uncertain, ease. He takes a list of prices from beside the till and holds a pair of spectacles up to his face while he examines it. He puts money in the till and takes his change.

As he finishes this, the door at back opens. BRENDAN comes in. He wears a sweater, heavy cord pants and a pair of slip-on shoes. He carries a bucket with peat briquettes. He goes to the fireplace, barely acknowledging JACK, just his voice.

BRENDAN. Jack.

JACK. Brendan. (Lifting glass.) What’s with the Guinness?

BRENDAN (putting peat in the stove). I don’t know. It’s the power in the tap. It’s a new barrel and everything.

JACK. Is the Harp one okay?

BRENDAN. Yeah.

JACK. Well, would you not switch them around and let a man have a pint of stout, no?

BRENDAN. What about the Harp drinkers?

JACK (derision). ‘The Harp drinkers.’

BRENDAN. Your man’s coming in to do it in the morning. Have a bottle.

JACK. I’m having a bottle. (Pause.) I’m not happy about it, now mind, right? But, like.

They laugh.

BRENDAN. Go on out of that.

JACK (drinks). What the hell. Good for the worms.

BRENDAN. I’d say you have a right couple of worms, alright.

They laugh. Pause. BRENDAN stands wiping his hands.

That’s some wind, isn’t it?

JACK. It is.

BRENDAN. Must have been against you, was it?

JACK comes out from behind the counter.

JACK. It was. It was against me ’til I came around the Knock. It was a bit of shelter then.

BRENDAN goes in behind the counter. He tidies up, dries glasses.

BRENDAN. Yeah it’s a funny one. It’s coming from the North.

JACK. Mm. Ah, it’s mild enough though.

BRENDAN. Ah yeah. It’s balmy enough. (Pause.) It’s balmy enough.

JACK. Were you in Carrick today?

BRENDAN. I wasn’t, no. I had the sisters over doing their rounds. Checking up on me.

JACK. Checking their investments.

BRENDAN. Oh yeah. ’Course, they don’t have a fucking clue what they’re looking for, d’you know? They’re just vaguely . . . you know.

JACK. Keeping the pressure on you.

BRENDAN. This is it. (Pause.) At me to sell the top field.

JACK. You don’t use it much.

BRENDAN. No. No I don’t. Too much trouble driving a herd up. But I know they’re looking at it, all they see is new cars for the hubbies, you know?

JACK. Mm. You’re not just trying to spite them? Get them vexed, ha?

BRENDAN. Not at all. I’m, just. It’s a grand spot up there. Ah, I don’t know. Just . . .

Short pause.

JACK. They over the whole day?

BRENDAN. They got here about two. They’d gone for lunch in the Arms. Got their story straight. Ah they were gone and all about half four.

JACK. They’ve no attachment to the place, no?

BRENDAN. No they don’t. They look around, and it’s . . . ‘Ah yeah . . . ’ you know?

They laugh a little.

It’s gas.

JACK. Mm.

BRENDAN. Were you in Carrick yourself?

JACK. I was. Flew in about eleven, threw on a fast bet. Jimmy was there, we went for a quick one in the Pot.

BRENDAN. How is he? And the ma?

JACK. Ah. Jimmy. Be in tonight. He put me on to a nice one. We got her at eleven to four.

BRENDAN. You’re learning to listen, ha?

JACK. Ah. Fuck that sure. I know, but I’ve been having the worst run of shit you wouldn’t believe. I was that desperate, I’d listen to anybody.

BRENDAN. Go on out of that.

JACK. Ah no. No no. Fair dues. I’ll say it. He got us a right one. And it’s good, you know. Break a streak like that.

BRENDAN. You’re a user.

JACK (laughs). There’s worse.

BRENDAN. Yeah. There might be.

JACK. But, ah, he was telling me. Did you know about Maura Nealon’s house?

BRENDAN. No.

JACK. Well. Jim says he met Finbar Mack down in the Spar. Finally, either sold or’s renting the, the thing, after how many years it’s sat there?

BRENDAN. Jays, four or five i...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Contents
• Dedication
• The Weir
• Dublin Carol
• Port Authority
• Come On Over
• Afterword
• About the Author
• Copyright and Performing Rights Information