The William Petersen Appreciation Page - www.billypetersen.com

Photo © T Charles Erickson

Trinity’s ‘Dublin Carol’ sings bittersweet By DON FOWLER

Although there is a bit of redemption at the end, Conor McPherson’s Dublin Carol is a million miles away from Trinity Rep’s upstairs production of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. The play takes place in Dublin on Christmas Eve, where undertaker John Plunkett faces another lonely holiday. His life has been taken over by alcohol, although he professes to have things under control at the present. McPherson paints a dark picture, leaving the door open for at least a little light to shine in, while presenting the life of a man that abandoned his wife and daughter and lived a lonely existence. By his own admission, he is “in a bad state.” He is sorry for his past indiscretions but tries his best to avoid thinking about them. He blames many of the years on “a drunken blur.” William Petersen, known for his work on the TV series “CSI,” returns to the stage after a long hiatus (He has been on “CSI” for seven seasons.) to give a powerful performance as John. He is on stage during the entire hour and a quarter, one-act production, joined at times by consortium member Danny Medford as his helper at the funeral home and veteran actress Rachael Warren as his daughter, Mary. Medford and Warren do an outstanding job of supporting Petersen, who admitted after the press night performance that he was a bit nervous. (He didn’t show it.) Joyce, who hardly ever watches TV, admitted to Petersen that she didn’t know who he was but was so impressed with his performance that she is now planning on watching “CSI.” “It’s a little different,” he told her. “I spend a lot of time looking at bugs.” Hopefully, he’ll spend more time on stage, where he obviously has a chance to show his talent. Dublin Carol, much like McPherson’s The Weir, which was performed recently at Gamm, is pretty much a downer. While it centers around a man’s submission to alcohol, there is much more to it. John is pretty much a coward in his own eyes and is living with some serious guilt, which he tries to not think about. When his daughter appears, urging him to go to the hospital to see his dying wife, and possibly even “do the funeral,” John retreats inside himself. Filled with guilt and denial, he ponders over his willingness to honor his daughter’s request. Not a lot happens outwardly in this play, but there sure is a lot going on in the mind and soul of John Plunkett. The show is virtually sold out through its Jan. 7 final performance. Surely, Petersen’s appeal accounts for this, and that is fine. Director Amy Morton keeps the Irish brogues to a minimum and Petersen has perfect diction, so I didn’t miss many words. I did find the author’s constant use of the phrase “You know” and the famous “F” word a bit overdone, however. If you’re lucky, you may be able to get a ticket cancellation, but we know of Trinity employees who couldn’t get seats for their families. Try at 351-4242. Dublin Carol plays through Jan. 7. (Correction: I called Curt Columbus “Chris Columbus” in the A Christmas Carol review, an obvious Freudian slip. Wasn’t it Chris who discovered America? I was probably thinking of the theatre’s Project Discovery…or maybe the fact that the genial artistic director has discovered a new way to present the old play. Or maybe it’s just old age.)

EASTSIDERI.COM AT THE THEATERS:

Dublin Carol’ is a dark tale of redemption By William Oakes

There is not much light in late December; this holy time of the year arrives shrouded in darkness. In Conor McPherson’s play, “A Dublin Carol,” now playing at Trinity Rep, the hope of personal redemption shines faintly, like a dull, wet gleam on the pre-dawn pavement. But there are times, for those who live in the dark depths, when even a dull gleam may prove to be enough. No one yearns for redemption as much as the lonely and brokenhearted; no one tells their stories quite as well as the Irish. I’m certainly biased on that point but playwright McPherson knows well how to evoke the Celtic spirit of wry pathos, the gift of producing a knowing, melancholy smile even when times are bleakest. While the play may provoke thoughts as black as Guinness (a metaphor I’ve used before) at its core “A Dublin Carol” captures the true spirit of the season, being that redemption is possible and necessary, even when the hope of it is most faint. What is decidedly not faint-hearted is Trinity’s exceptionally moving production of McPherson’s play. Guest director Amy Morton kindles the characters needs and wants slowly but steadily until, at the end, the gloom of a dark Dublin night seems pervaded by a certain inner spark; the desire for the light, if not the light itself. She’s well aided in this redemptive quest by the small ensemble on stage, most notably William Petersen in the role of John, an alcoholic undertaker. Mr. Peterson, best known as the star of the television series “CSI,” is a marvel in the role. The actor is virtually unrecognizable from his television persona and his Irish brogue is impeccable. But what impresses most is that each morsel that comes from his lips seems to come from some fount of very hard-won wisdom and, though wily and even charming the marks made on him by his past are ever present on his features. The gnawing need for a drink is there too; you can see it in his eyes. What makes Petersen’s performance as John all the more harrowing is the sheer endurance that he brings to the role, the very palpable sense he conveys of having been very desperate for a very long time “trying to find the dignity” in his life even as his half-cocked face registers barely remembering all the hurt that he’s caused. What we watch is not so much a performance but a man haunted by his own presence— the awful weight of a life lived badly. Trinity Rep’s ever-reliable Rachael Warren plays his daughter Mary with sharp eyes and flinty ease. Ms. Warren brings a brittle and wary edge to the role and what’s left unsaid between father and daughter here, conveyed only by looks, speaks volumes. To borrow a phrase from the play, “the silence left in their wake is deafening.” Legendary Trinity Rep set designer Eugene Lee has assembled a Dublin flat every bit as exact and detailed as the portrait we get of Dublin in James Joyce’s novel “Ulysses.” He even provides for some rain at the outset of the play which resolves into a pervading dewy gloom, one that hangs over John’s head like the past he “can’t face and can’t escape.” Playwright McPherson seems, as with his character John, to be a loquacious talker (another famous Irish trait) and much of “Dublin Carol” takes the form of stories John relates with the garrulous authority of the last man at the bar at closing time. The language here is fluid, melodious and, even as it dips deep into the well of despair, never at a loss for humor. McPherson’s gift of gab rings true and is peppered with expressions I’ve heard my mom and grandfather use. It is that ring of truth that gives these stories their potency and poignancy; John’s stories are the relics of his lost life. “A Dublin Carol” takes place on Christmas Eve and although the ghosts that visit him are entirely of his own devising, John will be offered one small chance for, if not redemption, then perhaps some measure of inner peace. Sometimes, in this cold and holy season, that is all one needs. All performances of “A Dublin Carol” are sold out.

New England Entertainment Digest

A Different Christmas Carol: Dublin Carol at Trinity Rep By Robin Chamberlain< PROVIDENCE, RI: Dublin Carol" by celebrated Irish playwright Conor McPherson, is a new sort of Christmas Carol. But the demons that haunt this work's leading character are all in his own head and of his own making – alcoholism (would it be an Irish play without it?), family abandonment, failure to succeed. In McPherson's usual style, the dialogue runs summarily from pathos to humor and back again using earthy language and varied pacing, interspersed with poignant little Christmas moments. It leaves the audience to decide for themselves what the leading character will do at 5:00p.m. I'll say no more about it. The entire work takes place on Christmas Eve day – a time for hope, introspection, and whiskey. The leading character, John Plunkett, an undertaker's assistant, has just returned from yet another funeral. His young, gangly and untried assistant, Mark, is the perfect foil for John's stories, advice, and for providing the audience with plot/background exposition. We learn how John got to be in his current position, the ruinous road that lead him there, and what he may have learned from his past experiences and mistakes- if anything. The final of the 3 not-so-wise characters, Mary (hmmm, Mary? a Christmas Eve visit?) provides the catalyst of the story. I will not reveal her relationship to John nor the reason for her visit; suffice it so say that her tidings are not glad nor her news of great joy. The role of John Plunkett is played by William Petersen, currently of "CSI" television fame. He told me that it has been nine years since he has been able to perform on stage – but there were no cobwebs on his performance. Alternately quiet and introspective and loud and physical, Petersen played the role perfectly, never crossing the fine line that actors can sometimes cross when using an accent or playing a drunk (or both, in his case)- becoming a caricature. Petersen is also visually pleasing to watch. His body language, facial expression, posture, and use of "business" are almost entrancing, and he follows suit with the dialogue, delivering both the pathos and the humor effectively. Danny Mefford plays Mark, the young assistant. Tall, dark, and gangly, he could have absolutely been an Irish youth. His performance was well-wrought, his effortlessly awkward physical presence and one-word answers spoke volumes. As Mary, Trinity staple Rachel Warren was also well-cast. Her comfort with and understanding of the role were apparent. She also was brilliant with the quicksilver changes in temperament and mood, handling the emotional transitions effortlessly. Kudos to director Amy Morton for crafting a thoughtful, well-timed performance. She kept the accents tightly leashed and made sure that the moments that could have lapsed into the histrionic never did. She also made skillful use of the set, designed by Eugene Lee, which was artful, conveying the shabbiness and sadness of the character's lives. It provided endless movement and placement opportunities for the actors, and came complete with running water. Moodily lit by Deb Sullivan, you found new things to see on it throughout the evening. Does John Plunkett learn his lesson? Does he make amends? Change his life? Unlike Dickens' holiday work, the answers to these questions are less discernable. See the production and decide for yourself. It's worth it.

THEATERMANIA

Reviewed By: Sandy McDonald

Blame it on the solstice with its maddeningly shortened days, but even among nonbelievers, Christmas-unto-New Year’s tends to be a time of reckoning — a season for settling scores, making amends, and, with any luck, starting fresh. At Providence’s Trinity Rep, Scrooge isn’t the only one coming up short due to a life ill spent. In Conor McPherson’s 2000 play Dublin Carol old Ebenezer has company in one John Plunkett, an aging undertaker’s assistant who’s a dedicated if functional alcoholic. Played in a fine, blathery turn by television star William Petersen, John is not one of your bitter, belligerent, sloppy drunks. Barely impaired, articulate, friendly — even downright chatty — he’s quite happy to play mentor to a young man (Danny Mefford) who’s temporarily helping him out. John has all the answers. He’s a font of putative wisdom, whether doling out advice on the ideal gift for a young lady (a jumper with “a nice pair of socks in the pocket as a surprise”), discoursing on the perils of “dangerous love” (the kind that entails interdependence), or mapping out the day-to-day stages of prolonged inebriation (a virtual advent calendar of torments). He knows why he drinks. He knows why he couldn’t hack heading a family and felt compelled to abandon his, decades ago. (In this arena, McPherson’s low-key, seemingly offhand script is packed with insight.) What John doesn’t know is any other way to live. Then a stand-offish young woman (Rachael Warren) arrives, offering a challenge and a choice. McPherson spends a good 10 minutes of this 80-minute play dodging around her identity, so it wouldn’t do to reveal her link to this garrulous loner — and it almost doesn’t matter, because the outcome is intentionally left up in the air. Will John accede to her demands and do the right thing? Or is it much too late for futile gestures? In a sense, you’re left to supply your own ending. John has already established the fact that, having sensed imminent failure, he’ll run to embrace it. And his profession has taught him that there’s a certain dignity in bowing to the inevitable. While not a major, multifaceted work on a par with The Weir and other McPherson plays, this study of a squandered existence leaves an unsettling aftertaste. John’s yearning to connect is palpable, as is his attendant fear. Petersen illumines all the facets of this conflicted soul, and he’s solidly partnered by Mefford, who brings to bear his own subtle manifestation of drunkenness (he’s merely a little slow, off-kilter) and manages to pack volumes into each noncommittal “hmm.” As the would-be agent of change, Warren seems over-calculating in terms of her affect, and her Irish accent distractingly fades in and out. Still, it’s the bond between two men straddling opposite thresholds of adulthood that carries the play, which is given an optimal production here; Amy Morton’s direction is tight, and Eugene Lee’s set is characteristically veristic. Mostly likely, audiences will be drawn to see the show by Petersen’s fame, yet fittingly — John fancies himself “perverse” — it’s the actor’s non-showy grasp of this shadow-dwelling character that’s apt to leave them enthralled.

THE PHOENIXA TOUCH OF HOPETRINITY REP’S MASTERFUL DUBLIN CAROL BY BILL RODRIGUEZ – DECEMBER 12, 2006

The stock stage Irish drunk is of limited entertainment value, a silver-tongued Boyo full of charming blarney that’s quickly wearying. Fortunately, Conor McPherson knows that the real McCoy is a sadder lad, but not half so glib. So the playwright’s challenge with Dublin Carol is to let life-size characters articulate the troubles and insights that Guinness-inflated Brendan Behan wannabes can’t even dream of. Trinity Repertory Company’s rendition (through January 7) is a moving experience precisely because it similarly plays down all that could be pumped up: the pathos, the colorful anecdotes, the folk wisdom. As was demonstrated in the haunting Gamm production of The Weir in 2002, McPherson’s forte is to give voice to the ordinary people he grew up around. Listening to one of his characters is like eavesdropping in a pub, albeit on people who have brought along their own writers to trim and polish their on-the-money yet natural-sounding dialogue. One effective method of this playwright is to not overstay his welcome. Dublin Carol lasts less than 90 minutes and has only three characters, one of whom is in only one of the three scenes, which take place in the same room. The story revolves around John Plunkett (William Petersen), a man well over the hill and only minimally relieved at not being under it. Death is a daily reminder to him, since he works at a funeral home as one of those black-suited men who carry the casket to the hearse and grave. John is an alcoholic, but the difference between the drunk he is and the drunk he was is the difference between a chunk of memento shrapnel and a sucking chest wound. Throughout the day during which the play takes place, John polishes off a fifth of whiskey, with some help, but it’s to maintain a buzz, to provide white noise to drown out all his guilty thoughts. He remains as clear-headed as his company, the first of whom is Mark, played with an interesting gradation of self-centered sympathy by Danny Mefford. The 20-year-old is also working as an usher, but only as a part-time job for a while. On the surface he seems content, with a love life and a future. But by the last scene, when he shambles in drunk after unsuccessfully and clumsily trying to break up with his girlfriend, we see that there’s a potential maladaptive version of John within him always ready to break out. Without turning this into a sociology essay, McPherson sketches a miniature world of Irishmen who when distressed would rather clutch a bottle than a woman. In a similar commentary rather than coincidence, the three women we meet in this play, and a fourth described, are shown to be the most miserable when they’re the most passive, in contrast to their hyperactive male counterparts. The third character we meet is Mary (Rachael Warren), the sullen adult daughter that John hasn’t seen in 10 years. The occasion is the fact that his equally estranged wife is lying in a hospital bed, dying of cancer, and would like to see him, this being Christmas Eve. Warren is a model of actorly restraint here. She skillfully negotiates this minefield of sentimental potential, which makes Mary’s eventual reaching out all the more meaningful, as does her combining stifled fierceness with mystified love. Restraint is apparently the principal marching order given by director Amy Morton to Petersen, since he’s understating on all cylinders like a revving GrandAm. (I especially liked his casually scratching a wrist to downplay one patch of emotionally fraught dialogue.) John’s kindly boss, who saved him from the gutter, is also in the hospital, so the tear taps are installed and ready. Instead of such a resort, though, the play simply uses the situation to let John express his appreciation to the man. So by the time Mary comes around and he lists his crimes and insists that saying sorry is very much not enough, we wouldn’t think of doubting his sincerity. I haven’t watched TV’s CSI, but the films To Live and Die in LA and Manhunter certainly show Petersen accomplishing what he does here: giving a character a double life, one of which is too deeply felt to baldly express. The unusually naturalistic set design — unusual because it’s by Eugene Lee — is so thorough that it provides rain outside this funeral home office. Against this neat-as-a-pin and well lit gloom, these three characters, puppets to their painful tendencies, lurch and puzzle out why they do what they do. Gloriously and subtly, McPherson has John perform an incidental final action, alone on stage, that gives both himself and us cause to hope.

THE SUN CHRONICLE

Petersen translates to stage in ‘Dublin Carol’ BY JAMES A. MEROLLA STAFF WRITER Sunday, December 17, 2006

Providence audiences discovered something delightful this week; that you don’t need forensic evidence to discover that TV star William Petersen can actually act with the best of them.

And the former stage actor, well, he rediscovered himself. Petersen, who for several high wattage years has played Gil Grissom, the main star of the CBS mega-hit “C.S.I. – Crime Scene Investigation,” is also a good friend of Trinity Repertory Company’s artistic director Curt Columbus. Columbus asked Petersen to take a break from being the country’s most famous lead murder case forensic scientist – a character with a limited personality range who somehow started a cottage industry – to tackle head on Conor McPherson’s pitiable paean to an Irish alcoholic’s mid-life crisis, “Dublin Carol.”

The only DNA expected here is Doubling Nightly Audiences. Petersen’s acting pedigree – gleaned from a decade in the theater before his jaunt to financial security on a hit TV show – is on full display: the lost character’s Irish brogue (at least 90 percent of the time, given the 10,000 words he has to utter), the quirks, the slouched posture, the halting mannerisms, the self-indulgent pity, the self-effacing notoriety.

Petersen – who told various newspapers in several interviews he needed “to get back to stage work before he forgot how to do it” – needn’t have fretted. In playwright McPherson’s hard-hitting words, “It’s like ridin’ a (expletive) bicycle.”

Dublin Carol “is an 80-minute character study of several rudderless souls and how easy it is for a typical Irishman to become an alcoholic in a society whose small towns unofficially condone nightly stops from pub to pub to pub in order to be “one of the lads.”

McPherson is a master of three-character, alcoholic plays: See “The Weir.”

While the playwright’s language/dialogue seems effortless, flowing, almost invented on the spot, cheery and bleak simultaneously, and occasionally spellbinding, there is no ground-breaking plot or writing here, nothing truly new or (“CSI” notwithstanding) solved.

Don’t expect insights into your lives; rather only insights into what’s left of John’s, Petersen’s troubled character.

John Plunkett, on the verge of being a homeless bum after abandoning his wife and two children and discovering the bottom of the bottle, is saved by a kind mortician and asked to undertake undertaking. We meet him mid-life in set designer Eugene Lee’s scruffy, worn, hoary, world-weary office, a match to John’s demeanor.

VARIETY – DUBLIN CAROL – BY  FRANK RIZZO

A Trinity Repertory Company presentation of a play in one act by Conor McPherson. Directed by Amy Morton.

Mark – Danny Mefford
John – William Petersen
Mary – Rachael Warren

Not all Irish drunks are charming rogues, loquacious storytellers or wise souls with a touch of the blarney. Some are just sad humans lost in a limbo of loneliness, fear and regret. Such is the main character in Conor McPherson’s short three-hander, which brings “CSI” star William Petersen back to the stage after eight years in this confessional of a play. But neither Petersen, nor Steppenwolf helmer Amy Morton or the meandering script can shape this visit to an alcoholic’s no-man’s-land into a completely satisfying dramatic whole. It’s more of a hazy meditation on a lost soul in a low-key production that seems long at 75 minutes. Story centers on John Plunkett (Petersen), who works for a kindly undertaker — now hospitalized — who has taken him under his wing and saved him from the drunken gutter. Grateful John is now a functioning alcoholic, grappling privately with his sad, shameful and cowardly past while still imbibing in measured but constant sips of whiskey to dull his pain and the memory of the pain he caused others — just enough to get by and make it through one more day. He’s surrounded by death while going through the motions of a modest livelihood. It’s clear that John is ever so carefully, safely, living in his own waystation en route to his inevitable end. He is jarred by a Christmas Eve visit from his daughter, Mary (Rachael Warren), whom he hasn’t seen in 10 years. She comes to inform him that the wife he abandoned decades before is dying of cancer and asks him to visit her mother before she dies. The encounter opens up a host of feelings from both characters of past failings, humiliations and heartbreak, shattering the delicate existence John has created. The third character in the three-scene work is 20-year-old Mark (Danny Mefford), who works part-time at the funeral home. He provides John with a chance to reveal his past history. When Mark returns drunk in play’s final scene, it’s clear he may be the ghost of Christmas Future — coming dangerously close to mirroring John’s fate, taking to the bottle when he can’t cope with women or his own life. John counsels Mark to change as he deals with the choice he has to make as well. Irishman McPherson (“Shining City,” “The Weir”) knows from which he writes. The program notes refer to the writer’s own less-than-glamorous descent into alcoholism. Clearly, the need for drink as depicted in this 2000 script is nothing less than pathetic. But while the dialogue has the authenticity of plain folks and the details of drink and drunks ring true, the play also has the numbness and banality of aimlessness. Perfs all avoid sentiment, staginess and star turns, but ultimately underplay to a fault. Warren’s Mary is tightly measured, as if to keep all her conflicting emotions — from fierce resentment to tender sympathy — in check. The small details of Mefford’s socially awkward Mark are fitting and his drunk scene shows restraint. Petersen’s quiet depiction also opts for understatement, but without much tension or variety there’s little to connect to the audience. The naturalistic minimalism of the production borders on the bland and robs the delicate piece of its potential power. The hint of redemption at the end gives the play a note of hope — but one that fails to resonate as it should. Set, Eugene Lee; costumes, Ana Kuzmanic; lighting, Deb Sullivan; sound, Peter Sasha Hurowitz; production stage manager, Jennifer Grutza. Opened Dec. 7, 2006. Reviewed Dec. 13. Runs through Jan. 7. Running time: 1 HOUR, 15 MIN.

BROADWAY WORLDREVIEW : TRINITY REPS DUBLIN CAROL
Tuesday December 12th 2006 – Randy Rice< When writer D. Salem Smith asked Amy Morton why she was drawn to Conor McPherson's Dublin Carol and why she wanted to direct it, her reply was "What interests me about it - this will probably say more about me than anything else but - I hate Christmas. This is a play that doesn't pretend to like Christmas even a little bit."

Dublin Carol, is about Christmas, in that, it takes place on the days before Christmas. Period. Almost.

The realism of Trinity’s set; a worn office in a funeral home, sets the tone for the evening. The office set takes up nearly the entire stage of the Dowling theater. Everything is to scale. The furniture is sturdy. Mismatched, but sturdy. Beside an occasional overcoat and bottle of whiskey, every prop and piece of scenery that will be in the play is on the stage as the play opens. There a many props that are never used as props, just as scenery.

William Petersen plays John Plunkett, a barely functioning alcoholic. Plunkett is, unexpectedly, running a funeral home, where he has been an employee for at least a decade.

Members of the audience, who may primarily know Petersen from his role as Gil Grissom in CSI, will see none of the quiet, thoughtful, hero Grissom in this character. Without any ego, Petersen plays Plunkett as a red-faced, sweaty, alcoholic. A man who has been “beaten by life”.

Petersen emotes the ‘ache’ of loneliness; the loneliness of someone who is alone because of his own actions, and is overeager to have human interaction. In the first scene, Petersen is joined, on stage, by Danny Mefford as Mark. If Plunkett didn’t need someone to speak to and react to, the first scene could almost be done, completely, as a monologue. Plunkett extols his life view on his young visitor. It is the skewed view of a lonely, terrified, alcoholic. Mentoring, in the worst possible way.

In scene two, we meet Mary, a beautiful, if hardened, young women played by Rachel Warren. Mary, we learn, is the estranged daughter of Mr. Plunkett and has come to tell him that his wife is dying of neck cancer and would like to see him. Mary introduces the audience to the ideas of the characters of Helen, her mother and Paul, her brother. The characters of Helen and Paul are only referenced, not seen. Alluded to, but not heard from. But the play is as much about them as it is about the characters that are seen on stage. Ms. Warren plays the ever-present anger of the character, tempered by incredulity.

There are some funny moments, nervous laughter funny, mostly. The character of John Plunkett is monumental and multi-layered. The character requires that an actor move the character forward, beyond a stereotype of the “Irish Drunk”. This production requires of the two actors that share the stage with William Petersen to be at the top of their game. Both of these tasks are performed by the adept cast.

In describing the tone of Dublin Carol, Trinity’s Artistic Director, Curt Columbus compared it to a Samuel Beckett play, not unlike Waiting for Godot. In its gravity, and its characters inability to move, I agree: although I find Godot to be more hopeful, which is something. Dublin Carol is presented with no intermission, which intensifies the experience. Dublin Carol plays at Trinity Rep’s Dowling Theater through January 7, 2007. The run of the play is, essentially, sold out. Single tickets for some performances may be available. Call Trinity Rep’s Box Office for more information, 401-351-4242

THE PHOENIX REGRETS/ROCKETTES Dublin Carol; The Radio City Christmas Spectacular – By Carolyn Cray – December 12, 2006

Scrooge is inclined to blame a mean night before Christmas on a badly digested bit of beef or a blob of mustard. But there’s no doubt it’s the drink, not the food, that’s stirring up the garrulous, self-loathing protagonist of Irish playwright Conor McPherson’s Dublin Carol (at Trinity Repertory Company through January 7) on a bleak Christmas Eve when he makes a sort of confessional of the shabby undertaker’s office where he works and lives. And the knowledge that McPherson was himself burning the bottle at both ends when he wrote it adds to the small, quietly harrowing, compassionate work an extra poignance. In its premiere, this 2000 play by the author of the Olivier Award–winning The Weir opened the newly renovated Royal Court Theatre in London. By 2001 the dramatist, then 29, had ruptured his pancreas as a result of chronic alcoholism. It’s a wonder he didn’t need an undertaker himself. But since giving up the great Irish conversation greaser, McPherson, already prolific in his 20s and his cups, has written several more well received works, including the Tony-nominated Shining City and The Seafarer (also set on Christmas Eve), which opened in London this fall. Playing McPherson’s whiskey-soaked failed father figure of a mortician’s assistant at Trinity Rep is a man you might expect to know his way around a dead body: William Petersen, star of the popular CBS drama C.S.I.: Crime Scene Investigation, on which he plays forensic entomologist Gil Grissom. A Steppenwolf Theatre Company chum of new Trinity Rep artistic director Curt Columbus, the film and Broadway vet is making his first stage appearance since taking on the TV series six years ago. To judge from the evidence here, he has not lost his touch. Dublin Carol is not a flamboyant portrayal of a drunk in the manner of Synge or O’Casey or O’Neill. McPherson’s John Plunkett is an ordinary man ricocheting between denial and despair, between excoriating himself for past sins and writing them off as irredeemable and therefore not worth apology. For a guy who must have spent much of his life blacked out, he appears to remember every agonizing or embarrassing detail but to lack the machinery to turn error into wisdom. And Petersen essays him with an airy if aching touch, revealing layer by layer the not unlikable man, with his mischievous wit and boozy gift of gab, and the self-described “messer” beside whom, in his embittered daughter’s remembrance, even a drunken boyfriend who reminded her of defected dad was “a fucking amateur.” Most of McPherson’s plays are about the purgative power of storytelling; in this one, Plunkett, in two brief encounters with his employer’s 20-year-old funeral-helper nephew and one with the daughter who comes to inform him his estranged wife is dying, tells the stories on himself, conjuring a history redolent of cowardice, loneliness, drunkenness, and betrayal, but also of marred intentions and deep regret. The lyrically written work does not so much bombard as quietly captivate — and stir a compassion that its central character, however flawed, is not without. If Dublin Carollacks the originality of St. Nicholas , with its dissipated theater critic telling tales of vampires, or the accumulative power of The Weir, whose barroom ghost stories lead to an account of loss that changes the temperature in the play’s rural tavern entirely, neither does it rely on the supernatural to catalyze its portrayal of vaguely possible redemption. The only spirit in this cameo gloss on Dickens is Jameson as Plunkett, pouring tea and shots amid his shabby holiday decorations, tries to get his nose around the stink of the past to let in a whiff of hope. At Trinity the production is directed by Steppenwolf’s Amy Morton and designed by Tony-winning Trinity Rep institution Eugene Lee with a sharp eye toward detail, from the old-fashioned coffin sign on an exterior brick wall to the makeshift office’s jumble of vertical and horizontal slats and mismatched chair and ottoman. Petersen’s Plunkett, in his incorrectly buttoned cardigan, subtly shouldering the effects of drink, seems almost painfully at home in the little womb that his kindly if enabling employer allows him. Rachael Warren, though her accent feels harder than Petersen’s natural lilt, brings a squint-eyed, nervous brittleness to daughter Mary, who’s caught between wounded girl and resentful woman. And Brown/Trinity Rep Consortium student Danny Mefford imbues gangly young sounding board Mark with an apt mix of awkwardness, halfhearted respect, and desire to escape the guy on the next stool. IfDublin Carol is like a scalpel carving out its everyday sorrows, The Radio City Christmas Spectacular (at the Wang Theatre through December 31) is like a sledgehammer bludgeoning Boston with imported Christmas cheer, whether from venerable Radio City itself, the shopper-clogged streets of Manhattan, the North Pole, The Nutcracker, or Bethlehem. That the instrument operates with the precision of an expensive timepiece is due in part to the mechanical nature of the entire enterprise and in part to the presence of the skilled and spirited Rockettes, their synchronicity amazing, their kicks shoulder-high, and their smiles as frozen as the North Pole itself. In a Riverdance-like homage to “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” the troupe of 18, introduced as “a whole line-up of Christmas stockings,” appears legs first and then proceeds to dazzle in various tap-dance deployments indicative of the numbered days and suggestive of everything from French hens to drummers drumming. And in “The Parade of the Wooden Soldiers,” which has been on the Radio City roster since 1933, the stiff, uniformed dancer dolls, their helmets plumed and their joints seemingly fused, pull off some marvelous mechanical maneuvers, even forming a wheel. If you can get over the bummer of a toy cannon’s being wheeled on to shoot the Rockettes, their slo-mo domino death effect is enough to delight Henry Kissinger. But Santa Claus is MC and guiding spirit of this pert, gaudy paean to gift construction, buying, giving, and receiving. A variety show without much variety, the extravaganza (which includes an annoying Mrs. Claus, Little People portraying elves, and a troupe of singer dancers, in addition to the Rockettes) fields one present-loving orgy after another, from Santa’s emergence from behind a billowing gift-wrapped box to the Three Wise Men offering up booty to the Christ child as they drag their glittering Middle Eastern entourages up the aisles in a solemn, over-amplified production number more wooden than the soldiers. “And the adoration continues, spanning the centuries,” intones a disembodied voice as Joseph and Mary run through choreographed gestures to a swell of “Oh Come All Ye Faithful.” Then, in what seems an especial gaffe, the voice informs us of Jesus that “two thousand years have come and gone, and today He remains the central figure for much of the human race.” Surely this will be news to the rather large part of the world that is not Christian. The Living Nativity has also been a Radio City tradition since 1933, and it’s probably no more retro than the rest of the show, with its parade of two-dimensional backdrops featuring flashing lights, giant snow-frosted trees, and gaggles of glittering ornaments. Yes, I know the Christmas Spectacular, which has been exported since 1994, is a holiday cash machine; its inaugural Boston run, in 2004, broke box-office records, displaying its forced jollity and garish wares to 200,000 people. But isn’t turning the Living Nativity into something out of Vegas offensive to believers and non-believers alike? The only remotely tasteful thing about the scene on opening night was the sheep (one of three, sharing the stage with the full company and two camels) that clearly wanted to be elsewhere and had to be held firmly in its place near the manger. As the animal itself might remark if asked for a critique, “Baa, humbug.”

THE PROVIDENCE JOURNAL – Dublin Carol Speaks to the Human Spirit< While a transformed Mr. Scrooge is clicking his heels together in redemptive glee in Trinity Rep's upstairs theater, a darker, less hopeful tale is being woven a floor below, as alcoholic undertaker John Plunkett struggles with his own demons in Conor McPherson's tough but touching Dublin Carol.

If A Christmas Carol is for the child in us all, Dublin Carol is more for the hardened adult who is willing to settle for a glimmer of hope, not born-again miracles. In Dublin Carol, McPherson has exposed the pain and regret that often accompany the holidays. Don’t expect children prancing around a tree, or turkey dinner at the Cratchits’.

No, this is a harsh look at a shattered family, and a father ravaged by drink, fear and loneliness. If this doesn’t sound very rosy, that’s because it isn’t. But it is, nevertheless, a gem of a piece from one of the fine storytellers of the stage.

It’s also something of a star turn for William Petersen, the actor who for the past seven seasons has played laid-back head investigator Gil Grissom on CBS’s CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. Petersen, who took a break from the series to come to Trinity, is a longtime pal of artistic director Curt Columbus, who obviously realized that bringing in a big name would pay dividends at the box office. The run is sold out, although a handful of tickets are turned back each day. People can call the box office at noon to check availability.

Petersen, who in a recent interview made much of the fact that he hasn’t been on stage in eight years, looked right at home opening night, navigating a sizable role (he’s on stage for the entire 75 minutes) with seamless aplomb. It’s a terrific, well-shaded performance, a portrayal full of remorse, tinged with humor and the will to carry on.< It is Christmas Eve when we meet Plunkett in his shabby office in a Dublin funeral parlor. A few colored Christmas lights dot the wall and a tiny plastic tree sits on a table. Plunkett, once a falling-down drunk, has been taken in and given a job by the funeral parlor's owner, who is now in the hospital. Plunkett still keeps a bottle handy, but at least manages to hold down a job and get through the day. The play, directed by Amy Morton from Chicago's Steppenwolf Theatre, opens as Plunkett has just returned from a funeral with his young assistant Mark, nephew of the hospitalized funeral director. John breaks out a bottle and begins to fill in the details of his sordid past, when he was completely at the mercy of drink. The scene then shifts, and Plunkett is confronted by his estranged grown daughter Mary, who has come to tell him that her mother, the wife Plunkett left years ago, is dying of cancer in a hospital. Plunkett should do the right thing, she says, and visit her before she dies. He resists, but then has a rambling talk with Mary about happier times and how he always felt out of step with the world. He then agrees to meet her later, meet with his ex and perhaps set things right. That exchange, with Rachael Warren as an intense, feisty Mary, is one of the few moments of real dialogue in this brief show, as Petersen and Warren do their appealing dance together. It's not a big part for her, but Warren shines. Danny Mefford, a Brown/Trinity Consortium student, fills the subtle but challenging role of Mark, who must act as the sounding board for John. He's there to listen and do little else, and Mefford manages to make that seem quite natural. Mark has his own story to tell, it is true. He returns in the third scene for the pay Plunkett owes him for the funeral, and tells of dumping his stewardess girlfriend. That's when Mefford shows some emotional range and is not just a foil. All this takes place on a vintage Eugene Lee set, filled with clutter and rich in detail. Drizzle even soaks the alleyway during the opening moments of the play. Dublin Carol may be something of a downer, but it has its tender moments and says more than a little about the human spirit.< Dublin Carol runs through Jan. 7 at Trinity Rep, 201 Washington St., Providence. Tickets, when available, range from $20 to $60. Call (401) 351-4242 or visit www.trinityrep.com

BOSTON GLOBE – A STAR, BUT NO SPIRIT

Petersen leads strong cast, but ‘Dublin Carol’ fails to come alive – By Louise Kennedy, Globe Staff | December 8, 2006

PROVIDENCE — Throughout the 90 minutes of “Dublin Carol,” you never stop noticing that it is carefully written, meticulously designed, and skillfully acted. This is not a good thing.Conor McPherson has indeed written his study of an alcoholic undertaker’s assistant with care; Amy Morton directs the handsomely grubby Trinity Repertory Company production with fine attention to detail; and the three actors, led by William Petersen of “CSI” fame, deliver their speeches with admirable expertise. But the play never comes alive.McPherson made his name as a darkly modern Irish storyteller with “St. Nicholas” and “The Weir,” then built on it with “Shining City”; at his best, he can spin memorable tales of haunted men. But in “Dublin Carol” the storytelling founders because John Plunkett, the defeated little man at its center, is haunted by some very unoriginal ghosts.He drinks too much, you see. And it has cost him. He abandoned his wife and children; he never amounted to much at work; he’s full of that particularly poisonous mix of self-loathing and self-pity that alcohol often catalyzes. Perhaps something new could be made of all this, but by the time John reveals his boyhood shame at hiding when his father beat his mother, we’re too far down the path of therapeutic drama to find our way back. We’ve also spent far too much time in the company of a character whose monologues are less interesting than he imagines.That’s part of the point, of course: that John cannot see how tiny and pathetic he is. The point never gets more complicated than that, though, so John’s long-winded introspection becomes tedious and unlikely. The guy’s still drinking; it’s just not believable that he would face — and describe — his past in the detail that McPherson forces upon him.But of course facing his past is implied in both the title and the structure of “Dublin Carol,” with its Christmas Eve visitations upon a woefully misguided man. And the ghost of Christmas past does indeed appear, in the form of Mary, a pinched-looking woman whose relationship to John the playwright teasingly withholds for too long.She’s come to tell him that his estranged wife is dying, a revelation that provokes the script’s most melodramatic outpourings. But Mary’s been estranged from him, too, and the way she and John open up to each other in this scene simply doesn’t ring true.John’s interactions with Mark, the young nephew of the funeral parlor’s ailing owner, also feel more like plot devices than real human connection. Mark is drifting a bit, and maybe he already drinks too much; OK, he could be headed down John’s dreary path. But their two long scenes together have the painstakingly constructed air of an acting exercise, not the spontaneous pulse of real life.You can see why actors would be drawn to this play — it’s full of lyrical, writerly passages, with lots of highs and lows and opportunities for emotional shading. Petersen negotiates the turns like a pro, as does Rachael Warren as Mary (though her Irish accent seems to lilt less naturally than his). Danny Mefford makes the most of the underwritten Mark, and Trinity, as usual, provides beautifully appropriate costumes and set.For all that, though, “Dublin Carol” is missing some essential spark. It wants to be chilling, but it only left me cold.