CONNOR McPherson’s 1997 play The Weir, written when he was in his mid-20s, is set in a dilapidated pub in County Leitrim on a windy night. At first sight it’s a ghostly story, and that is how some of the many productions around the world have played it.

When Dennis Barwell chose it to direct for Street Theatre, he took another view, that the play was firmly in the great Irish tradition of storytelling theatre, and should (as the playwright himself decided) be played without an interval to avoid “breaking the spell” that is woven by the five characters. Another change in the Street version is to depict Finbar not as a flashy businessman, but as an entirely convincing refugee from the village who has had some success in business in the nearby town. It changes the balance of the story, adding both conviction and understanding.

Brendan is the landlord of the pub, under the watchful eye of his investor sisters. Jack, who runs the local garage, and Jim, a handyman still living with his mother, are regular customers, downing a few pints and matching number of little ones (tots of Irish whiskey) every night. On this night, they are expecting the arrival of former villager Finbar and a young woman from Dublin to whom he has recently let a house in the village – a house that is said to be haunted.

Spurred on by the charms of Valerie, the three men start telling their progressively competitive spooky tales. When Valerie tells them her own story – the reason she has come from the city to this remote settlement – they are immediately subdued. One by one they leave.

The weir of the title is mentioned only in passing in this two-hour journey into the soul of rural Ireland, the subject of a photograph that shows the three men together, many years before. The question of Valerie’s father’s identity floats unspoken.

We know that life will go on, as it is has for generations, and that people will find support from others in their communities.

The five actors did a marvellous job with the accents, creating characters full of humour, pathos, resentment, determination and resignation. Rob Prince, perhaps best known for his comic timing, shows another facet of his talents as the lost and lonely Jack, a grumpy man careering into old age before his time. Adam Lanfranchi is a solid and dependable Brendan, Will Vero is a kind-hearted, insecure Jim and Philip Turley, as the nervy, bragging Finbar, is a man much less self-confident than he seems, full of high-pitched laughter and a quick temper.

For the early part of the play, the attractive Valerie (Sarah Martin) seems to be there only to interest her new neighbours into new flights of fancy, but when her moment comes she silences the pub and the audience. It’s a stunning piece of storytelling with its own ghostly frissons.

This exceptional production conjures an unforgettable atmosphere, and proves again the versatility and depth of talent from the Street company and the sensitive and insightful director.

GP-W