Whatever lingering miasma you've fallen into over the long, hot summer, PURE Theatre's production that opened their fifth season Friday night is sure to wake you up.

Conor McPherson's "Shining City" will shake you up, as well. Directing her third production for Rodney Lee Rogers and Sharon Graci at their Cigar Factory space, Dana Friedman is one of those gifted people who let the action flow from some organic dimension unknown to us mortals.

She makes it all look so easy, beginning with casting thorough professionals in the four seminal roles.

Mark Landis falls into his relationship with his therapist (R.W. Smith), carrying on a seamless conversation that must take place in offices everywhere.

Smith, as an ex-priest who has his own demons to confront, says all the things good counselors say to those haunted by their own guilt, deceit and the simple art of living.

Kara O'Neil again imbues her character with a sensibility that comes across as so genuine, when she cries, we cry.

The lines are not lines at all but a difficult, universally recognizable conversation that we happen to be in a position to observe.

Matt Bivins creates another unforgettable character with the insight we have come to expect from this young actor — from his idiosyncratic hand positions to his neon green shoes.

You don't need me to analyze all this Irish existential angst, nor explain the subtle humor.

You just need to go get yourself a heady dose of reality — as it is perceived and defined in this fast-paced 80 minutes.

Dublin is a boomtown with cranes stretching across the skyline, an unmistakable sign that the city's enjoying vast economic growth. Aside from construction and gentrification, there are new financial centers, legal firms, and computer manufacturers. Ireland as a whole has enjoyed an East Asia-sized upturn.

But another side to Dublin lurks in the background — its superstitious one. In this quaint, unorthodox world, it's believed that a boy born after his father's death has power over fevers and that fairies who hear a Dubliner speak ill of them on a Friday will work some evil.

Playwright Conor McPherson likes to take these two sides of Ireland and contrast them through subtle character development and Gaelic quirks. In Shining City, which had a successful run on Broadway last year, none of his painfully human creations have permanent abodes. They're all struggling to deal with life in a bustling metropolis. PURE Theatre manages to capture all this perfectly on a small set with four minimal scene changes.

R.W. Smith plays Ian, a therapist who's just moved into a pokey apartment and sees his patients there. The place is drab, with brown walls and stacks of cardboard boxes. Ian is camouflaged in a brown T-shirt, desperate to blend in. During the eight months in which this play is set, he never unpacks all his boxes. Sometimes he listens to other characters with the passivity of an audience member. At others, he makes active, hard choices that change his life. Smith handles both aspects of the character with sensitivity and naturalism, adding appropriate doses of humor when he can.

Adding to the sense of everyday realism is John, Ian's patient, who lives in a world of boring social events, home-cooked meals, and shopping expeditions. But something weird has happened to this average guy. His dead wife is haunting him, exposing his feelings of guilt and insecurity. Thus the old world of superstitious beliefs meets a new world of urban loneliness.

As John, Mark Landis is hard to hear in his first scene. It's as if he's having a hushed conversation with his fellow actor and the audience has to strain a little to hear. He gets louder as his character gets bolder in later scenes, perfectly capturing a dull-as-dishwater mindset; for example, he feels an emotional connection with a woman when she takes an interest in his sinus problems.

Ian has problems of his own, struggling through a difficult relationship with Neasa (Kara O'Neil). They've had a baby together and she's living in close quarters with his family. Now that she's a mother she's changed. Ian is torn between his responsibilities as a dad and his lack of a connection with Neasa.

O'Neil has one of the toughest jobs in the play as the tired, annoyed, and confrontational Neasa. Sadly, a couple of her lines are hard to decipher and she spends time with her back to the bulk of the audience so we can't see her either. But later, she completely redeems herself with a powerful breakdown as she confesses her sins to Ian.

Matt Bivins livens up the production as the streetwalking Lawrence, who brings out other shades of Smith's character. Bivins injects his outwardly cheery role with a sad streak, broadening his background with a few concise lines. In this show, Smith and Bivins give the finest performances we've seen from them at PURE.

The whole play demonstrates McPherson's ability to build a complete world view in a succinct fashion. Director Dana Friedman facilitates this: the cold weather outside is suggested with winter coats, Ian's nervousness is hinted at by the way he gingerly sets his therapeutic "props."

Shining City includes images that stay with you — the kind that you wake up with the morning after you've seen the play to find that they still make your hair stand on end. The most memorable of all comes at the conclusion of the play, which the New York Times called "the most shocking ending on Broadway."

Thanks to the imagery, the carefully considered performances and the restrained direction, PURE has created an electrifying piece of theatre.

Shining City review
by William Bryan
Lowcountry Stages

One must hand it to PURE Theater company. Even in the middle of looking for a new home (their next show will be the last at the Cigar Factory) they still manage to put together another perfect fit for their small, intimate black box theater. Moving from the white trash world of Killer Joe, they now turn their sights on a small rundown office in Dublin with Conor McPherson's latest play, Shining City, a 2004 play for which the London Telegraph described him as "the finest playwright of his generation." The play opened on Broadway in 2006 and was nominated for two Tony awards, including Best Play. Now PURE turns their considerable talent loose on this psychological Irish ghost story. Told mostly in halting guilt ridden monologues, Shining City almost feels like it would make a better book than play, yet the talented cast manages to make watching the characters pour out their souls an exercise in therapy for the audience as well. A tale of bad decisions and sad regrets, this is not an uplifting play, but it is good theater.

Storyline: This is a character study of four people, none of whom currently have a home to call their own. An ex-priest turned therapist must deal with a widower who is seeing the ghost of his dead wife as his first patient while trying to resolve his own inner demons in the form of his girlfriend and a young stranger off the street.

RW Smith, PURE's new Company Manager, takes his turn at what seems to be a trend this season of managers appearing on stage and doing it well (see our review of Picnic). Starring as Ian, the insecure ex-priest who seems driven to help others even while wrestling with the poor decisions in his own life, Mr. Smith delivers a touchingly reserved performance. The interaction between him and Equity player Mark Landis, as John, the distraught widower, unfolds slowly, allowing the two men to help one another solve their problems. Sometimes it seems that the line between therapist and patient blurs. The story is told across five scenes in a short eighty minutes, each scene separated by two months. Director Dana Friedman, returning for her third time behind the wheel at PURE, does not waste a minute, crafting delicate scene changes that become part of the story as a silent interaction goes on between Ian and the off-going and on-coming people in his life.

No more than two people occupy the stage at any one time during the show, yet the baggage that each brings with them fills in the roles of an entire city. Perhaps the most moving performance of the night comes from Kara O'Neil who plays Ian's girlfriend Neasa. The mother of Ian's child, she supported him while he chose to leave the priesthood, and now, in their scene together, she learns he means to leave her in much the same manner. Kara's anger, shock, dismay and acceptance seem to run the full gambit of dealing with death, even if it is just that of their relationship. She delivers just the right amount of accusations and recriminations, from the welfare of her child, to the tribulations she has had to endure living with Ian's brother and sister-in-law. She seems unable to figure out why her life has gone so wrong. The tears she sheds are believable, and that is often a rare thing on stage.

The set design, an upstairs Dublin flat, the lighting, and the Irish pop music all combine to add to the feel of this show. The office just barely begins to feel like a living space and then it is emptied once more, its purpose satisfied as both men come to understand the path they must take to live their lives. The ending is sudden and abrupt, eliciting more than one brief startled shriek from the audience members. Though McPherson is known for his ghost tales, it might be perhaps a little much for this play, which is so much more about the way we make our decisions, the way we question our choices, and the manner in which we damn ourselves much more than God or our lost loved ones would ever do.

Written by Conor McPherson. Directed by Dana Friedman. Design: Dana Friedman (set and costume), Rodney Rogers (lights), Matt Bivins (sound), Julie FIschesser (stage manager). Cast: Matt Bivins, Mark Landis, Kara O'Neil, RW Smith.