Men hang out in a homey pub. They exchange gruff jokes, down drink after drink, and soon enough start trading tales.
Naturally, “The Weir” takes place in Ireland — where else would camaraderie, storytelling and pints be so tightly intertwined?
Conor McPherson’s play opened on Broadway in 1999, after a successful run across the pond. It’s startling that such an unassuming, intimate show, in which little seems to happen, would get that kind of exposure, but McPherson has his fans: He’s had two more critically acclaimed Broadway productions since, “Shining City” and “The Seafarer.” Full disclosure: I find him inexplicably overrated, so if you’re more receptive to McPherson’s style, add another star to the rating.
To work whatever magic it may have, “The Weir” needs a tightly knit ensemble that can mine its subtleties and bring unspoken sorrows and regrets to the fore. But the Irish Repertory Theatre’s revival doesn’t gel, with actors who struggle to hit the right note. As Randy Jackson would put it on “American Idol,” the show, directed by Ciarán O’Reilly, is a little pitchy.
“The Weir” — the title refers to a local dam — takes place in real time in a country pub. The gruff Jack (Dan Butler, still best known for playing Bulldog on “Frasier”) is such a regular that he helps himself to his lager when owner Brendan (Billy Carter) isn’t around.
The drinking routine is disrupted by the arrival of Finbar (Sean Gormley), the local muckety-muck, who’s showing the sights to Valerie (Tessa Klein), a young woman about to move to the area from Dublin. One of the best jokes of the night is seeing Valerie order a white wine and let slip a grimace when she sips the swill Brendan serves her.
There are subtle tensions in the room. Finbar seems friendly, yet he makes sure to tell Valerie his neighbors are jealous of the success he built while they “all stayed out here on the bog, picking their holes.”
Eventually the men start spinning spooky yarns about fairies and things that go bump in the night. A good chunk of the show is taken up by these extended monologues — sadly, the cast doesn’t quite make them come to life.
The exception is Klein, who does aching justice to Valerie’s own story, an account of a tragedy so poignant that it makes the men shut up. In an Irish play, that qualifies as a miracle.