McPherson’s writing—a tiny panorama of lonely Dubliners, with the occasional burst of the supernatural—more than once offers you the chance to nod off, but O’Byrne’s volatility keeps you watching. When Ian’s girlfriend (Martha Plimpton) arrives, he switches from feeling guilt about leaving her to rage at the thought of her with another man, suddenly clamping his fists around her arms. Can any actor play the extremes of vulnerability and menace the way he can?
Last comes a late-night visitor (Peter Scanavino), who plunges Ian into psychic torment. I don’t want to give the scene away, but O’Byrne shows he can make Ian’s poise melt in a flash, or let it thaw gradually over what seems like a full minute of silence. In both cases, the performance is fearless. O’Byrne slips into character the way a brush takes paint, and we’re lucky to watch him work.
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