Fionn Ó Loingsigh plays all the men in the sexual encounters with She (Kate Stanley Brennan) in Mark O’Halloran’s drama Conversations After Sex at the Irish Arts Center.
The racy, come-hither title of Mark O’Halloran’s 85-minute work disguises a fascinating drama en déshabillé that explores the loneliness that underlies anonymous sexual encounters and a desire by participants to connect more fully than only with sex. Though the conversations follow intercourse, they reveal more about the characters’ lives up to that point than what happens afterward. Staged with simplicity and power by Tom Creed, O’Halloran’s play is thought-provoking, sad, and thoroughly engaging.
Central to the production at the Irish Arts Center is a woman in her late 30s, known only as She (Kate Stanley Brennan) and unflatteringly described in the script as someone “with angles rather than curves.” Her sexual encounters with various men take place chronologically, on a large bed of white sheets, duvet and pillows, centered in a towering square frame of black metal (and designed by Sarah Bacon, who also did the less demanding costumes for the principals—black bra and panties for She; boxer briefs for the men).
The first encounter finds a naked couple, and the man—Fionn Ó Loingsigh, who plays all the male roles (letters only)—uncomfortably wishing to leave. Both actors navigate the awkwardness of the situation with skill. She makes small talk to get A to stay a bit longer. He’s reluctant, and O’Halloran’s oblique dialogue suggests some kind of disruption has occurred:
She: You’re not angry, are you?
A: What?
She: Over earlier. When after.
A: No. Confused, if anything, if I’m being honest. Worried.
She: Why?
A: In case you thought—I don’t know. That I’d took advantage. Or I was rough or something.
Brennan as She contemplates her life in a solo moment in O’Halloran’s play.
There follow She’s encounters with a variety of men, all given different, distinct personalities by Ó Loingsigh. B is a Brazilian she met after She became disillusioned with Tinder and decided to try “a new app.” O’Callahan parcels out just enough information to make him intriguing.
B: I have two lives. Before and after. In Brazil I was a geotechnical engineer.
She: What the fuck is that?
B: I told people where to dig holes.
She: And here?
B: I’m a cleaner.
She: Really?
B: At the central bank.
She: It’s an amazing building.
That last line is both amusing and sad because She doesn’t know what to say to B’s comedown in life. She makes other connections, too. One is with C, a racist and party hound who recently returned from Lithuania: “This place has changed and all. Everyone is brown all of a sudden. Have you noticed that?” Nonetheless, she hooks up again with him.
With E She provides solace: their sex follows his visit to a hospital where his mother is dying of cancer, and he’s grateful: “All that heat and honesty. It’s helped me no end. … Sometimes we’re lucky enough to meet the thing we need.” H is a much younger man, a musician. And G, another man she meets, is an expert on taking various drugs:
G: You got to figure out what your optimum dosage is.
She: And how is that done?
G: Trial and error mostly. And I’ll be honest with you. There were a few days there where it was very fucking edgy.
Ó Loingsigh plays some characters who try to connect with She (Brennan) emotionally after the anonymous sex.
Amid the scenes with men, she has three confrontations with her sister, F. They have a strained relationship, and F apparently disliked She’s partner, sparking their estrangement. Meanwhile, She meets some of the men more than once—and gradually the audience hears what happened between She and her partner, first as She opens up about him with E, and then at the end of the story when she talks to B. For his part, Ó Loingsigh charts progressions among his many characters. D notably relates a conversation with his ex in which she excoriated him so that “I didn’t fucking recognize myself. The ‘me’ she described. I didn’t know him.”
Both actors do a fine job of conveying the needs each character has at the moment—the baggage they bring—and the way their moods change depending on circumstances. There is a kaleidoscope of emotions that go on; sometimes one of the two is out of sorts, or out of control, or needing something the other cannot give.
O’Halloran’s play ends on an optimistic note, as She connects with one of the men the audience has met, but it’s only the most hopeful of the possibilities she has experienced for which sex opened the door. Still, both actors have so thoroughly embodied their characters that one can only wish them the best.
Mark O’Halloran’s Conversations After Sex runs at the Irish Arts Center (726 Eleventh Ave.) through March 11. Evening performances are at 7:30 p.m. Tuesdays and Wednesdays and at 8 p.m. Thursday through Saturday; matinees are at 2 p.m. Saturday and Sunday. Tickets are $25–$65 and may be purchased by visiting irishartscenter.org.
