Playwright: Roddy Doyle
At: Seanachaí Theatre Company at the Storefront, 66 E. Randolph
Phone: 312-742-8497; $20
Runs through: Oct. 7
BY MARY SHEN BARNIDGE
Anyone who ever competed in intramural softball, or boasted at the water cooler on a Monday of twisting an ankle playing touch football, or carefully calculated the strategy of impressing judges in a chili cook-off, will feel right at home in Leo's tavern, where the game is 'Pub Quiz' ( 'Trivial Pursuit' being protected by copyright ) is played, and the fever is as intense among the working-class Dubliners as you'd find surrounding the international soccer matches.
American playgoers might be forgiven their impression that Ireland is comprised solely of quaint country cottages or bomb-riddled Belfast slums, but don't be fooled by the deceptively solemn title of Roddy Doyle's proletariat comedy, whose Yankee counterparts range from The Honeymooners to The King Of Queens. Though fisticuffs will be halted in the nick of time, nerves will be pushed to the edge, ulcers will flare up, hearts will be broken, copious amounts of alcohol will be ingested and evacuated and one marriage will come dangerously close to collapse before victory is declared. In the end, sportsmanship will triumph and neighbors congratulate one another before going home to prepare for the next round of good, clean, wholesome community recreation.
Orienting ourselves to names and relationships in the welter of sub-plots conjured by Doyle's milieu demands close attention in the play's first moments, but gradually we warm to our universe and its indigenous personalities—the team captain affecting a Hollywood Western accent, the aging rocker-wannabe, the slow-witted Mama's boy happy to be included in the fun, the meek pinch-hitter overwhelmed by the excitement, the high-strung games-master—and, most significantly, one George Finnigan, whose wife accuses him of neglecting her and whose teenage daughter may have inherited his win-at-all-costs mentality.
Karen Kessler once again proves herself adept at maneuvering bodies in and out of focus without ever compromising the stage picture in what amounts to one continuous melee. Likewise imposing order on the narrative sprawl is Victoria DeIorio's deftly-selected sound design, encompassing an extended step-dance sequence ( choreographed by Karen Tarjan ) , a snippet of Ennio Morricone for the self-styled cowboy, and several versions of Lydia The Tattooed Lady. But it is the commitment that the actors in the 16-member ensemble bestow on each individual character that keeps us always cognizant of the motives and stakes in this fast-paced glimpse of everyday life in a neighborhood not so unlike our own.