The Director Sector

I sat down on the third row, house-right next to Devilvet.  The set was dimly lit in the house lights.  Empty bottles were everywhere — on tables, on desks, on the refrigerator and even on the floor.  A picture of Jesus Christ was on the wall near the stairwell, with its light out.   The room portrayed on stage had all the elements of a lived-in home of alcoholics.

Fortunately, that’s exactly what the play contained.

The lights went out and slowly rose up and the show began.

The Seafarer by Conor McPherson addresses a group of old, alcoholic friends, one of whom is the object of the devil’s obsession.  Sharky’s soul is in the balance during a card game with his inebriated, oblivious friends and the devil himself.

Despite an initial acclimation period where I had to take time to adjust to their Irish accents, the show was phenomenal.  The Steppenwolf lived up to its reputation for quality theatre, putting on an excellent production of McPherson’s tale.

I thought that the weakest character was Nicky, whose purpose seemed to be only to introduce the antagonist and frustrate the protagonist.  However, once Sharky faced off against his nemesis halfway through Act 1, I was hooked.  The tension was overwhelming.

I didn’t leave my seat at intermission, as I was pondering the implications of the first act and turning over possibilities in my mind as to how Sharky would avoid losing his soul.

The second act lived up to my expectations.  While I didn’t shed a tear at the end, I sympathized strongly with Sharky’s plight and was rooting for his success the entire while.

I’ll leave the details of the second act to you, my dear reader, as an exercise of buying a damn ticket to the Steppenwolf production of The Seafarer.  Do it.

Do it now.

Or I’ll eat your soul.