Kilcullen Diary: Don't. Miss. The Seafarer

They say you can't cheat the Devil. Well, sometimes you don't have to, writes Brian Byrne.

If you go nowhere else over the next three nights, do find the time to go to The Seafarer, in Kilcullen Town Hall Theatre. It stands among the best productions by the Kilcullen Drama Group in the last decade.

It's not the usual farce which will always fill the Kilcullen theatre. Which is maybe why the preview audience last night was small. But boy, how we were entertained.

We laughed. We recognised and empathised with the characters. Well, empathised with four of them anyhow. The fifth? You don't want to know him. We sat up in surprise, in shock even at one point. We were never bored.

The Conor McPherson play is for an all-male cast. Two of the players are familiars to Kilcullen audiences, three are new to the group. All five gave stellar performances, of five all different characters.

We know those characters. We have grown up with them. They are among our friends, or acquaintances at least. Even the one whom you really don't want to know.

It's Christmas Eve in the play and they've had a rough night already before, and are having another day and night of it now. The sitting room where the on-stage action takes place shows it, however much the mild mannered Sharkey (but give him a drink and see) tries to keep his blind brother Richard's place somewhat tidy. Played by Conor Ryan, he's the quiet one, but without him, and his past, there is no need for the story.

Richard himself is Maurice O'Mahony as we're not used to him. Harsh, coarse of language, unkempt, curmudgeonly, and maybe with the hardest part for a sighted actor to play. Because we really did see him as blind for the two acts.

Liam McManus's Nicky is the sloppy, happy go lucky one whose Versace jacket 'needs a wash for Christmas, because I wear it all the time'. But there's history between him and Sharkey, about a woman and a car, and finally the needle hits home.

Fergal Sloan's Ivan didn't get back to his home the night before and is suffering both from hangover and fear of facing the music. The fact that he has lost his glasses seems peripheral, but ultimately is critical. Timing and facial acting provides both pace and humour, as always with this actor.

And finally, Mr Lockhart by Alan Clarke, who trawls bars for what he wants (no, not how it sounds). Suave and sleek, man of the world, mannerly. At one point he describes in detail where he comes from, and if you have anything beyond the most venial sin on your soul, you'll be making an appointment for the next available confession box. Because, as well as not wanting to know him, you do not want to go where he lives.

There's lots of drink involved. And the detritus of same, both around the stage and in the people concerned. There's no sweetness in The Seafarer, and no leavening of the situation by the presence of any woman. There's strong language throughout, and the play is not for ears easily offended.

There's also the result of meticulous direction by Mischa Fekete, and by Eilis Phillips who picked up the reins when Mischa was hospitalised for the last week of rehearsals. There's a set that looks simple, but is tricky enough to deal with a variety of entrances and exeunts.

All in all, a credit, again, to everybody involved with the Kilcullen Drama Group. Make their nights, buy those tickets. This is a production deserving of full houses. And you'll kick yourself if you don't take the opportunity.

The Devil might always seem to have the best hand in poker. But sometimes, the loser can get a third chance.