GHOSTS POURED NEAT

Conor McPherson’s The Weir, a beloved staple for Irish Rep, returns for its fourth production under the intimate, finely tuned direction of Ciarán O’Reilly. This unusual and deeply human play walks you into a small, wind-battered pub in rural County Donegal for “just a quick pint,” only to watch you stumble out 90 minutes later a bit spooked, a bit stirred, and certainly touched. At once cozy and haunted, casual and confessional, the story lures you in with laughter and leaves you with something far more lasting.

Dan Butler

The play opens with Jack (Dan Butler), a sharp-tongued mechanic, and Brendan (Johnny Hopkins), the reserved pub owner, bantering, soon joined by Jim (John Keating), a soft-spoken handyman. It doesn’t matter if Butler’s accent is 100% Irish—he could read the yellow pages as Jack and still have the audience enraptured—he builds tension, breaks it, and reshapes it again effortlessly. Hopkins as Brendan embodies the kind of man who blends into the background but whose words land with weight—he rules the game from behind the bar, and every posture, every move counts. Keating gives Jim a gentle humility, as if lost in his own thoughts, bringing a soft melancholy to the role, a sense of someone carrying more than he lets on, a loneliness that lingers long after his lines are spoken.

John Keating, Dan Butler, and Sean Gormley

The trio trades pints and personal problems with quick wit and rhythmic charm that’s almost hard to follow. Brendan’s predicament with his stuck-up sisters, Jack’s gambling habit—you feel as if these men have been talking about the same things for the last twenty years, and every story told is cheered with a pint. What really takes their interest is Finbar (Sean Gormley), a flashy local businessman now living in a nearby larger town, who is renting a house to a mysterious Dublin woman, Valerie (Sarah Street). What’s he doing parading another woman around town—he’s married! And is he bringing her into this pub? The audacity. These two middle-aged men and the younger bartender have been single for years, and now the married guy walks in with a good-looking woman?

Dan Butler, Sean Gormley, Johnny Hopkins, and Sarah Street

Gormley shines as Finbar, the confident man who believes he’s outgrown village life. He carries himself with the self-assurance of someone who loves the attention, the power. Ms. Street, quiet and composed, gives us the ideally mysterious Dublin woman—she’s not flirtatious, not aloof, not trying to impress. She simply listens. And by doing so, she becomes the catalyst who turns a night of drinking and tall tales into something deeper. Each costume tells its own quiet story—Leon Dobkowski’s subtle, smart design defines each character before they even speak, especially Finbar and Valerie.

Johnny Hopkins

As the pints flow and the wind howls outside, the men begin to swap ghost stories. But these aren’t tales of horror—they’re eerie recollections, filled with unresolved presences and unspoken grief. Jack tells of a house built on a road traditionally used by fairies. Finbar recalls what happened to a young woman using a Ouija board. Jim remembers ghostly figures appearing while he dug graves. The supernatural lurks just beneath the surface of the everyday. This is atmospheric storytelling, laced with humor, melancholy, a touch of Catholicism, and Northern European emotional restraint.

But it is Valerie, the outsider, who delivers the emotional pivot of the play. Her story—quietly told, deeply human—is far removed from folklore. It’s a gut-punch. And it’s what changes the room.

Sarah Street

The bar is part of a house, and the house is part of a farm. Charlie Corcoran’s set is straightforward and cozy, almost like a well-worn dining room: a dark-stained wooden bar, open shelving for bottles, a fireplace, three stools, two chairs, and a small round table placed strategically to create a playing area. Subtle side lighting and a warm controlled light spill by Michael Gottlieb sculpt the figures and highlight the contours of the bar, giving the actors shape and space, and turning the room into a refuge from the storm outside. That storm, by the way, is practically a cast member. Thanks to Brew Levy’s sound design, the wind howls and moans like a big mean wolf pacing outside the door, waiting for someone to step out.

Sarah Street, Dan Butler, and Johnny Hopkins

Very little “happens” in The Weir; the characters shift, soften, reveal themselves as the pub becomes a confessional. I felt like I was eavesdropping on real lives unfolding in real time. Don’t come looking for high drama or explosive twists; under O’Reilly’s finely tuned direction and McPherson’s subtle script, the exceptional cast opens a door to something far more profound, the fragile humanity that connects us all.

John Keating

photos by Carol Rosegg

The Weir
Irish Repertory Theatre
Francis J. Greenburger Mainstage, 132 West 22nd St
90 minutes, no intermission
ends on August 31, 2025
for tickets ($60-$125), call 212.727.2737 or visit Irish Rep