Review: THE WEIR, Harold Pinter Theatre
7 / 10
Each performance is finely tuned. Phillips maintains icy distance as Valerie, restrained by her grief which slowly smothers her. Vaughan-Lawlor’s Finbar sparks with boyish vivacity, but we sense gently that it masks an inner vacuum beneath the sparky surface. If McPherson falters, it is in his overly wrought direction. Sequences are staged a little too cosily, rhythms a little too predictable, the dark comedy too caricatured. But the play’s spell remains. The Weir is not really about the supernatural at all. It is about the things we try to bury, the regrets that haunt us.
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