Quiet joy to the world seeps through sadness in ‘A Dublin Carol’

November 18, 2:31 PMChicago Theatre Review ExaminerCatey Sullivan

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  Soaked in the cold, illusory comfort of whiskey, set in the seedy backroom of a Dublin funeral home, and centering on a trio of lonesome, exhausted souls “A Dublin Carol” doesn’t seem like an apt candidate for the feel-good hit of the holiday season. And yet the Steppenwolf Theatre production it very well could be. There is a gleam of unmistakable, unshakable hope in Conor McPherson’s gently mesmerizing meditation on spirits of both the life-erasing liquid variety and the angelic sort that perch as unseen, guardians in places that seem all but abandoned. 

   Consider the bleak pronouncement John (Bill Petersen – yes, that Bill Petersen) makes as he downs yet another shot after burying a drug addict on Christmas Eve: “Christmas is not just another morning, only there’s a star in the f*cking’ East,” he notes mordantly. And indeed, everything in John’s life seems to indicate just that. But like the Dickens classic it so brilliantly riffs on, “Dublin Carol” is, in the end, a testimony to redemption.

   Directed with subtle passion and insight by Amy Morton for the Steppenwolf, the three-person cast of McPherson’s gently surprising and wickedly funny drama delivers a story that’s both utterly unremarkable and profound. This holiday world you never multi-plex holiday rom coms or in the catalogue photo spreads featuring rosy-cheeked families sipping hot chocolate in cozy ski togs.

   McPherson gives us the world between the cracks, a terrifying and terrifyingly ordinary place where the shattered people wander, cold and forgotten. Or, almost forgotten. As he did in the glorious “The Seafarer” (also running at the Steppenwolf), McPherson – with that pitch black of humor you can only find in a land where make-you-blind and impotent Poteen Whiskey serves as a primary good group –offers a glowing ray hope piercing through the darkest shadows. 

   The darkness is as mundane as it is harrowing. John’s a drunk, one of millions. Yet calling John an alcoholic is like calling Leonardo Da Vinci a weekend tinkerer. When it comes to the downing shots and drowning sorrows, John is in that rarefied, bottomless-bottle hell reserved for those who want to die but lack the initiative. Instead of pulling the trigger or breaking out the razors, they trudge daily into purgatory, isolated from the living and unable to join the dead. One of the piece’s high (and most hilarious) points comes as John describes the predictable nature of his benders. Petersen nails it, describing a cycle worse than the Stations of the Cross and with none of the benefits. This isn’t partying. It’s drinking to the point that you’d take a claw hammer to your skull just to achieve the mercy of a blackout. And as the stage veteran turned TV star delivers it, the monologue is one of the funniest you’ll hear this side of “The Santaland Diaries.” 

   On this particular Christmas Eve, John has two visitors: Mark (Stephen Louis Grush) is a young assistant undertaker with troubles of his own. Mary (Nicole Wiesner, a luminous Madonna radiating sorrow and love) is a young woman who shows up with news that forces John to survey the blasted wreckage of his life.

   All three are painfully, obviously separated from any real human connection. It’s no coincidence that a pub called “Major Tom’s” (as in “Your circuit’s dead, there’s something wrong” from David Bowie’s classic “Space Odyssey”) comes up in the dialogue.But McPherson doesn’t send these three lovely, broken people into oblivion alone. Instead, he subtly, quietly imbues them with just enough hope to hang on.There’s no hallelujah chorus, no pageantry, no trumpets proclaiming joy to the world. But the joy is there nonetheless, a gift from the playwright, and Steppenwolf’s gifted artists. 

“A Dublin Carol” continues through Dec. 28 at the Steppenwolf Upstairs Theatre, 1650 N. Halsted, Chicago. Tickets are $50 - $70. For more information, call 312/335-1650 or go to www.Steppenwolf.org.

Photos:

Top: Stephen Louis Grush and Bill Petersen

Bottom: Nicole Weisner and Bill Petersen