McPherson's "Shining City' by Theatre Exile (2nd review)

The depraved guests of TV talk-show hosts like Jerry Springer and Maury Povich inevitably invite audiences to take what William James termed a "moral holiday." Whole shows devoted to "paternity tests for mothers who cheated" and "family sex secrets revealed" let us laugh at our presumed moral inferiors while temporarily exculpating ourselves from our sins.

But what happens when characters in a play— who do resemble an average theatergoer— begin to sound like the degenerates on tabloid TV? I'm speaking here about Theatre Exile's current production of Conor McPherson's Shining City.

In McPherson's play, John (Scott Greer) shows up at the newly leased office of newly licensed therapist Ian (Bill Zielinski). Haunted by the ghost of his recently deceased wife, John can't sleep or even stay at home. He feels guilt because their marriage collapsed shortly before she was killed in an auto accident.

Ian is an aimless wanderer with his own problems. He left the priesthood (it's intimated) when he started an affair with Neasa (Genevieve Perrier), who supported him during his therapy training by working long hours in a pub. Although they found time to sire a child together, Ian and Neasa rarely speak and definitely don't communicate. Now Ian wants out of the relationship, especially after learning that Neasa may have cuckolded him with a bartender.

More revelations ensue from all parties, involving affairs, latent homosexuality, the misery of looking for a reason to go on and the inability to communicate even with our closest loved ones. Little but guilt and exposition follows; in fact, in Matt Pfeiffer's no-one-move-on-stage direction, the only action lies in the lulls between argument, revelation and remorse. Like an unrepentant guest on Jerry Springer, Perrier delivers the evening's most intransigent line when, after admitting the possible aforementioned cuckolding, she exclaims, "Can't you see how this is making me feel?"

Unsympathetic characters

All of the performers deliver generous, full characterizations, and Greer continues to amaze with his captivating dexterity. Matt Pfeiffer's direction manages to get one thing right, in never once allowing anyone on stage to look anything other than pathetic. Thanks to these portrayals of such unsympathetic characters, McPherson manages to raise, but then unfortunately obviate, a number of important questions and insights along the way.

When Ian encourages John to continue with treatment by arguing, "This is important work we're doing here," I laughed in realizing the pedestrian nature of Ian's profession. Later, when Ian comforts John on the "success" of his therapy (meaning, John simply moved on), the script made me wonder how psychotherapy can function without an ethical component at all. McPherson amplified this point in Ian's transition from judgmental father confessor to open-minded, liberal acceptor.

Magical lighting

Thom Weaver's lighting effected near magical transitions, and Jorge Cousineau's spire and rooftop adorned set found the insight in McPherson's title. In an age when, for the first time in human history, more people live in cities than the countryside, we can identify our surroundings by buildings and structures but not by the relationships in which we build our lives.

Indeed, the inability to communicate might be modernity's great theme. I could have enjoyed Shining City on these terms. But McPherson gets bogged down in another question— what justifies or excuses our actions if only the material world exists?— and neglects to suggest an answer. Instead, his ending gives the audience a nice little thrill for the ride home, where they— like John and Ian and Neasa— can discuss what they saw on moral holiday.♦


To read anther review by Pamela and Gresham Riley, click here.
To read another review by Robert Zaller, click here.
To read another review by SaraKay Smullens, click here.