Theatre in Review: The Beacon (Irish Repertory Theatre)

	Kate Mulgrew, Zach Appelman. Photo: Carol Rosegg

Beiv, the central character of The Beacon -- "heroine" doesn't seem quite right, given the suspicions under which she labors -- is a remarkably candid woman who, nevertheless, guards a houseful of secrets. An artist unimpressed by her considerable achievements, she patiently listens to an acolyte gush over one of her paintings, finding it suggestive of "menstrual blood, the blood of childbirth, genital mutilation, hemorrhaging, pretty much all female suffering," before responding, flatly, "It's a blood orange." She dismisses the giant tampon sculpture that once caused a sensation, muttering, "Well, looking back, it probably was a bit reductive." Introduced to her new and surprisingly young, daughter-in-law, she says, "No one in their right mind should get married before thirty. Forty if they can help it. Any earlier should be illegal." Spiky independence is her specialty, the better to keep anyone from asking questions she doesn't want to answer.

Kate Mulgrew, who plays Beiv, commands the stage with the authority of one who knows her worth and has little time for the nonsense of others. But what is most interesting about Beiv are the things she doesn't say. Pre-eminently, she has been an object of scandal, following the death of her ex-husband, Michael. A skilled sailor born on an island off the Irish coast, he went out in a small boat and never returned; his body was never found. Michael and Beiv's highly critical son, Colm, ticks off the reasons for her status as a person of interest: "Just the fact you were the only person here the night he went out. Maybe just the fact he'd changed his fucking will the week before so's everything was tied up nice and neat to go to you." It doesn't help Beiv's case that soon after Michael's death, she opened an exhibition of her work titled "Guilt."

Colm, a software engineer living in San Francisco, is disconcerted that Beiv, having sold her house in Dublin, has taken up permanent residence on the island, and is renovating Michael's cottage into a modernist glass box that will expose her to the skeptical locals. (A podcast crew has been sniffing around, too.) When she speaks nicely about a local woman from whom she buys banana bread, Colm says, "Doesn't mean she doesn't think you're a murderer."

Colm is also surprised that his old friend Donal, an amiable loser with an extensive rap sheet of bad life choices, has returned to the island where he has become Beiv's helper and drinking buddy. Colm and Donal's relationship is top-heavy with emotional baggage, all of which Colm would prefer to leave unpacked. And Bonnie, Colm's wife, a Jungian analyst in training -- who, at first glance, appears to be way out of her league with this spiky bunch -- is about to discover some bracing facts about her husband.

With its elegantly structured sins-of-the-parents plot and carefully placed bombshells, The Beacon will have you constantly revising what you think about the unhappy people playwright Nancy Harris has assembled for the bumpiest of reunions. "I was a ferociously selfish mother," roars Beiv, and there is plenty of supporting evidence in her willingness to leave the boy Colm behind while she pursued new career opportunities. But the closer we get to the truth about Michael's death, the more we understand her need to protect her son. Colm's snarky attitude barely conceals a restless soul drowning in unhappiness and red wine. He has chosen the compliant, people-pleasing Bonnie as a kind of rebuke to Beiv, but, provoked, she shows a wild independent streak. Colm also has unfinished business with Donal, who, trying to stabilize his dead-end life, has made a private arrangement with Beiv. The play edges into psychological thriller territory when one of the characters disappears; the possibility of history repeating itself triggers a series of revelations, ultimately leading to the original sin, committed decades earlier, that continues to stain the lives of everyone in Beiv's orbit.

The Beacon is so packed with twists that at times it strains credulity -- how many shockers can one visit stand? -- but Harris treats her characters with compassion and director Marc Atkinson Borrull's handling of the cast is eminently sure-handed, especially during a dinner party that becomes a minefield of shifting alliances and barely suppressed grievances. Mulgrew, bustling about the stage in denim overalls, her haystack of gray hair swept back, and her enormous glasses giving her the demeanor of a surprised owl, delivers unpleasant truths to Colm -- for example, informing him that treating his bride like a princess will destroy their marriage -- with a frankness that defines her maternal style. She also makes clear how much Beiv is biting her tongue around Bonnie, whom she (incorrectly) dismisses as a California airhead. Mulgrew does some of her best work here, mixing pregnant silences that can't help but fascinate.

Zach Appelman leads effectively with Colm's sarcasm, only gradually revealing the unhappy man who has moved halfway around the world yet cannot escape his past. Sean Bell, last seen in the musical Harmony, is all bluster and self-deprecating jokes about his busted college career, failed business, and broken love affair before quietly, but devastatingly, admitting that Colm has ruined his life. Ayana Workman's Bonnie is something of a tourist among these walking wounded, angry at her parents who want her "to have a nice happy life" when she wants "something interesting and artistic." and, frankly neurotic. She is most touching when realizing, "I thought I was so important...but I'm not," information one hardly expects to learn on one's honeymoon. David Mattar Merten makes the most of a small role as an intruder eager to document the details of Beiv's existence.

A strong sense of place is crucial to the effect of The Beacon and production designer Colm McNally delivers just that in an airy, largely unfinished, cottage interior with the nearby ocean and beach seen from a variety of angles via his video design. His highly sensitive lighting calls up various moods, from a darkish, chilly afternoon to a warm, lamplit interior to a tentative sunrise. Orla Long's costumes contrast Beiv and Donal's everyday work wear and Colm and Bonnie's expensive, understated casual clothing. Liam Bellman-Sharpe combines original music -- a low rumble merging with reeds and percussion -- with a wave of sound effects, including surf, radio, a record player spinning the Fleetwood Mac hit "Dreams," and breaking glass during an act of vandalism.

I've seen two plays by Harris, Our New Girl, an icy thriller about nanny trouble, and Two Ladies, an implausible political drama that pits a version of Melania Trump against Brigitte Macron. The Beacon is a much richer, more modulated work, an incisive account of tragedy and the collateral damage it causes across time; it's a play that one sinks into, like a big, engrossing novel. The Irish Rep is off to a running start this season.--David Barbour