The Weir

Brendan Gleeson grimaces as the Guinness tap sputters, tries again, and then settles for a bottle. He takes his seat on a high chair at the empty bar, in the centre of the stage, and here he will remain for the majority of the performance. Gleeson is utterly fantastic, but he doesn\'t dominate. The structure of the play allows each character to have their turn in the limelight and the ensemble performance is exceptional.

McPherson has been ever present in London this year with The Brightening Air (Old Vic), Girl From the North Country (Old Vic), now The Weir and, soon, The Hunger Games...

The more I think about The Weir (it has now been exactly one month since I saw it), the more it sits with me. The cadence and rhythm of the play run a gentle course, like the pace of life in that part of rural Ireland.

This production is excellent, the set design beautifully rendered and the dimly lit stage creating the atmosphere of the warm hearth in rural darkness. Something about it calls to mind creates the same sense of isolation and loneliness as looking at Nighhawks by Edward Hopper. McPherson\'s writing is spirited and evocative, and I would happily return to the theatre to see this, or another, production of The Weir.