Toward the end of “Stones in His Pockets,” now onstage at American Players Theatre, two extras pitch a director on a movie they want to make. In this film, the extras are the stars, and the stars are the extras. The story is set in late 20th century southern Ireland, among cows and Kerrymen. (It sounds quite similar to the play we’re watching, in fact.) And they want it to call it “Stones in His Pockets.” How’s that for a title? The director pauses and turns to an assistant. “Doesn’t say much,” she deadpans. “Not very catchy. A bit nondescript.”
Playwright Marie Jones is poking fun at her own cryptic title here. But the good news is there’s nothing nondescript about this highly entertaining two-hander, running in the Touchstone Theatre in Spring Green through Nov. 20. “Stones in His Pockets” premiered in 1996, around the time that Martin McDonagh was sending out brooding Irish dramas and dark comedies where you laugh through a cringe.
“Stones” has heavy themes too, among them exploitation, poverty, depression and suicide. But it’s lighter and more hopeful than some of its contemporaries.
This production is also a remarkable achievement for director Tim Ocel, and for the two young men who embody more than a dozen roles between them. Marcus Truschinski transforms from an angry, drug-addled teen to a feisty old guy who’s locally famous for being the last living extra from “The Quiet Man.” Nate Burger, this season’s “Hamlet,” plays both a massive Scottish bodyguard and the Hollywood starlet he protects.
At the center of the story are those two extras, Jake (Truschinski) and Charlie (Burger). They meet on the set of an American film using the Irish coast as a romantic backdrop, as Charlie tries to finagle his way into an extra piece of pie at craft services. Charlie’s on a tour of Ireland, having abandoned his video rental shop and former girlfriend in the north. He’s got a script in his pocket, a tent in his trunk and a positive outlook that he grips like a setter with a bone. “This is Charlie’s day of good cheer!” he says – to himself as much as Jake.
Jake knows everybody in town and seems to be related to most of them; everyone’s a second or third cousin on his mom’s side or lived at the farm next door. He has recently returned from a stint in the U.S. He lives with his mother and has been spinning his wheels just like Charlie. Jake is either a pessimist or a realist, take your pick.
“Guys would give their left testicle to be where we are,” Charlie crows. “Forty quid a day, rubbing shoulders with stars.”
“And then what? When it’s over, then what?” Jake replies.
Both Truschinski and Burger have a goofy streak, and their rapport is warm and believable. I’m astonished that anyone could keep a straight face with Burger grinning like a loon, hollering “we could be fartin’ through silk!” Must take nerves of steel.
“Stones” had a successful four-year run on the West End in London in the early 2000s, where I happened to catch it from the far upper rows of the Duke of York’s Theatre. What I remember most two decades on is how funny it was, and how magically theatrical, interspersed with moments of wrenching grief.
Ocel’s production feels more intimate and more serious — funny, yes, but less madcap. And it’s still magical to watch Burger and Truschinski change the direction of a hat, hunch their shoulders, adjust the pitch of their voices, and become someone else in the space of a breath. “Stones in His Pockets” has “Waiting for Godot” levels of stage business (which is to say nearly constant) and ample sight gags, enabled by Jason Fassl’s brisk, textural lighting design. Two hours zoom along.
Jones offers no guarantees for Jake and Charlie’s future, or that movie they want to make. It feels like enough to believe in the future of their friendship. At its heart, “Stones in His Pockets” is a love letter to storytelling, and it’s a lovely way to close the season in Spring Green.
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