Sebastian Barry’s ‘On Blueberry Hill’ at 59E59 Theaters: Ravishing words find a way toward love
Known more in the United States as a fiction writer than as a dramatist, Barry shows he can wield beautiful language and powerful characterization in this moving two-man play, which builds to a spectacular conclusion, thanks in part to Fats Domino.
“Ann so tosach do bhí an bhriathar. In the beginning was the word.” Thus begins the Gospel of John as translated into Irish, and thus begins Sebastian Barry’s ravishing new word-drunk play, On Blueberry Hill. The Irish company Fishamble will be at 59E59 Theaters only until Feb. 3, so try not to miss it.
It is a rare and happy occasion when two major actors are cast in a script that seems a perfect fit for them. Niall Buggy plays Christy and David Ganly plays PJ, and both performances are thrilling. The two characters are in prison for murder, sharing a bare, grim cell furnished only with bunk beds — only, that is, if you don’t count the writing-covered sheets of paper strung together and dangling, ceiling to floor (set designed by Sabine Dargent).
The lighting (designed by Mark Galione) provides silent commentary, since the play is written in monologues and each spotlight seems to awaken or revive each character in turn — until the conclusion, when, significantly, they share the light and then the darkness. The interplay between the two men, and between light and darkness, is beautifully orchestrated by Jim Culleton’s direction.
There is a cruel guard, one McAllister, unseen by us, who thought it was funny to force PJ and Christy to share a cell since each has done the other irreparable harm and caused terrible grief. Christy’s beloved son Peader — “He was soft as a hot cross bun, you know, when you buy it early on Good Friday, and it’s still warm from the baker’s oven” — and PJ were secret lovers, and in a moment of confusion and self-disgust, PJ pushes Peadar off a cliff. And this causes Christy to kill PJ’s beloved mother. And so, 20 years later, here they still are, their stories and themselves locked together.
And, remarkably, this is a play about love and forgiveness and not about the hatred and revenge it began with. As PJ muses, “Love, you see, love — well, no one has ever found proper words for that, not really. It’s the thing God wants us to have, to embody, and yet there is no proper description of it.” But it seems Sebastian Barry has found a way to show us love as the drama moves toward its spectacular conclusion to the tune of Fats Domino: “I found my freedom,/ On Blueberry Hill,/ on Blueberry Hill, /when I found you.”