Shining City

Critiqued by Holly Bartges

Miners Alley Playhouse’s production of Conor McPherson’s play Shining City, demonstrates what artistically bent actors can do with a play that isn’t certain what it wants to accomplish, much less why.

Josh Hartwell and Laura Norman in Miner Alley’s production of Shining City Photo Credit: Richard H. Pegg

Director Richard H. Pegg and the intuitive cast grab hold of the script providing stunning characters in a loosely sculpted atmosphere.

Placed in Dublin, Ireland, Daniel Lowenstein painted an awesome view of Dublin looking out the window of a newly occupied office of Ian, a therapist. Having left the priesthood, Ian ventures into the unknown on scary feet with the help of his girlfriend, Neasa while living in his brother’s house. Neasa diligently worked as many shifts as she could in a pub so Ian could go back to school.  When she becomes pregnant and insists it’s too soon, he insists it isn’t. He wants the baby. He wants a child. A daughter they get. After moving into his office, he disappears from her for four days.

Lowenstein’s Dublin painting needs to be on exhibition somewhere. It would make a grand auction centerpiece for Lowenstein and Miners Alley. Unfortunately the painting appears to be covered by a torn or scratched screen. Before the houselights went down and stage lights came up, I thought it was a storage room behind the office, but then why would a storage room have a large window? That was only the first of several questions Shining City presented. Not to digress, the painting is gorgeous and speaks well of a shining city, which is more than what the play does.  

One of Ian’s first clients is a nervous, mealy mouth, naive wused-out, wimped middle age man who has an extremely difficult time finishing even one sentence.

Josh Hartwell wears Ian’s persona with a “confidenced” aura that says he knows what he is doing, underscored with a far away wistfulness that says not all is well. Hartwell combines the two statements with honest projection.

Ken Street takes on the role of John, the wimped out, middle-aged man with all of the bumbling nervousness engraved into this almost poor excuse for a human being. In John’s weakness, Street comes off quite strongly. That may sound like an oxymoron, but it’s true. The more “flusteredly” weak John encompasses in his dislocated ramblings, the stronger Street is in making John appear real.

John can’t sleep. His wife was killed in a tragic auto accident a few months back, and her ghost appears to him at unlikely times. The nerve of a ghost appearing while one is taking a bath. His wife not only appears to him, but also appears to him wearing the expensive red coat he bought for her out of guilt. He’s desperate to have Ian believe him. Does Ian believe in ghosts?

Is Shining City supposed to be a ghost story? If so, it doesn’t go far enough treating ghostliness as though by so doing, it might somehow wake the dead. Consequently, it tiptoes around the subject. Oh, yes, the ghostly appearance keeps John awake, he says. What probably keeps him awake more than anything else is his inability to complete a sentence. His mind is undoubtedly too busy trying to remember a sentence is  constructed with a noun, verb, and subject. Busy, undisciplined minds have grave difficulty inviting sleep to enter the arena.

It’s important not only for Ian to believe him, but does the audience? There just isn’t enough ghost stuff to make the play a ghost story. The ghost stuff becomes secondary to John’s awkward rambling. One could make the point John’s own floating raft of guilt invited the apparition into focus, but there just isn’t enough of the “ghoasty” stuff to make it a central theme. Mentioning a ghost does not a ghost story make.

Through John’s annoying rambling of unfinished sentences, Hartwell’s eyes for Ian reflects a deep disturbance dutifully encouraging John to continue. Something else is obviously knocking at Ian’s consciousness.

Is there going to be a parallel between the two? Ian’s subtle reaction says yes. In fact everyone in the play deals with loss on one level or another with a not-so-subtle emphasis on isolation and discombobulation.

So is Shining City exploring the varied degrees of loss in four very different circumstances? If it wants to, it doesn’t go far enough. The play doesn’t seem to know how to reach into the depth of loss. Actually the play doesn’t seem to know how to reach into the depth of anything. The cast magically reached into an empty box and pulled out compelling characterizations.

Laura Norman in Miner Alley’s production of Shining City Photo Credit: Richard H. Pegg

Laura Norman explodes onto stage as Neasa. Living in Ian’s brother’s house, with a baby and he disappears for four days, she’s mad, confused, and hurt. Rightfully so. His lame explanation frightens her. Of course, she feels abandon. Offering an unacceptable explanation, he shuts her out.

Yes, there’s a parallel between John, Ian, and Neasa.

At the end of Act I, John lunges into a long, very, very, very long monologue. Within his first two sentences, John reveals who he is and why. The redundant monologue could easily be divided into four parts, with three quarters of it discarded. For whatever reason, the playwright chose not to. Was he going through some kind of loss and wished the audience to feel the suffering? Street proves his worthiness in this role. He’s grand, missing only one line in the entire diatribe on opening night. Considering the way the monologue was written, that in itself was a major accomplishment. Street deserves an award for turning the monologue into a sense of realness no matter how predictable it turned out to be.  A difficult part for any actor worth his salt. Even more difficult is Hartwell’s amazing ability to stay in character through this long, all too long, mumbling ramble. There’s nothing more difficult for an actor but to be on stage in silence, hanging tight to their character, acting as though they care, acting as though they’re interested without getting lost. When someone bumbles through a ramble, the mind fights for its own rambling; where to go after leaving the theatre, reviewing plans for the morrow, or concocting a grocery list. Hartwell gives the impression he remained as Ian right there with John’s torturing and tortured story. I wanted. I really wanted Ian to break through and quietly ask John if he served “cheese with his wine”. That momentarily entertained my hanging-in-there-wanting-to-be-active-but-couldn’t-find-a-reason to even remotely care about the predicted dullness. If the playwright had stopped the play to ask what John was going to do. I had it nailed. And I could have said it in complete sentences. Of course, he wants to think of himself as a stud using the excuse that he wants to connect with someone or something. Of course, he’s going to trip over the search.

Why did McPherson write Shining City? I have no idea. What it’s supposed to concern itself with I have no idea? To revel in a ghost story? The ghost story isn’t ghostly enough. To explore loss? It doesn’t go far enough.

Yes, there is loss, and wow just before the end of the play John feels grandly happy. After a harrowing venture into himself and into a park late at night, Ian’s packing up his office, moving in with his now fiancée and baby daughter and everyone is happy. The transformations happen too quickly in spite of the time involved. Moving through several scenes, there is no indication what time period the loosely organized story covers. We don’t know if it’s days, weeks, or years. No matter how it’s cut, the happiness of everyone happens too fast even for the bumbling, rambling John.

Well not everyone is happy, Laurence, a skanky young man Ian picks up in the park late at night wouldn’t know loss or ghosts if they both tapped him on the shoulder and said “Boo”. In curdled hair, and torn taped red pants, with lust oozing from his lips every second, Laurence admits he has plenty of time with nowhere else to go. As annoying as his character is, Kevin Lowry does a splendid job presenting Laurence in all of his shuddering misappropriation of human life.  Has Ian lost his mind taking Laurence to his office? He has to, that’s where the set is. Is Ian uneasy? Of course, he is, but what else did he expect to find in park late at night? Did he sense he might be Gay? Did he honesty think he’d find answers in a dark park or in his office with a dark park refugee? It’s an exploration into an uncomfortable seedy portion of the life experience that only opens the door a crack without going through. Moving from seediness to moving back with his fiancé happens too quickly. From Ian’s lack of comprehension of his humanity, it is scary to think he was once a priest. It’s even scarier to think he’s a therapist. Hopefully, when he reconnects with Neasa, he’ll go back to school. He does tell John he has an interview set up in the new town with Neasa. Hopefully it will as a clerk for some large company where he can fiddle with paper work and ponder what it means to be a human being. Wonder if Neasa will be able to keep him home at night so he’s not rummaging around a dark park.

Norman doesn’t get a chance to show any transformation Neasa might have gone through. McPherson just leaves her hanging in mid-air with her confused mad. Does Ian confess to her his struggle? Or does he keep the secret to himself? Does Neasa wallow in her abandonment, or does she grow into a strong independent woman endowed with compassion for Ian?

McPherson doesn’t seem to care about her enough to let us see what happened.

The Irish dialect bothered me throughout. There were moments when it sounded just right. Other moments it seemed to disappear, and other moments it sounded as though the cast tried too hard.

There are three things I will remember about Shining City. Four things, actually: John’s unbelievable long-g-g-g-g tiresome monologue and the stunning way Street handled it, Hartwell’s amazing concentration with Ian, and the puzzlement of what happened with Neasa. With Norman’s strong capturing of Neasa, her continued involvement would have been a breath of fresh air into the production. Indubitably, it wouldn’t have provided structure for the play, but her high-powered stage presence would have been a welcome relief.

In spite of the problems with the script, the cast and direction are worth every minute. Having a script like this actually produces s lively and fun-swept conversation. If the playwright wasn’t willing to reveal his motives, conversational bantering does wonders.

The startling end of the play actually has very little to do with the play. For all I’ve read about the behavior of ghosts, that just doesn’t happen. Demons for John, Ian, and Laurence are chewed up eaten and disposed of in a miraculous momentary change of scenes. John still has a long way to go. He stumbles over trying to thank Ian, and Ian stumbles over being able to accept John’s scrambling efforts. They may have chewed up their demons but they both have a long road to walk into understanding themselves as human beings, and McPherson needs to not rely on clinging to his laurels, and remember a story needs structure, direction, and purpose. And, oh yes, it really helps if the title has something to do with what is going on during the performance. There wasn’t much shining in either Ian’s office, or the dark park, much less in any of the lives of the characters.

At the end of the production I was left stunned by the incredible performances of Hartwell, Street, Norman, and (shudder) Lowry. I was also left wondering what it was I had just seen and why?

Shining City
Regional Premiere By Conor McPherson;
Directed by Richard H. Pegg