Reviewed by Cariad O'Brien

Mark O'Rowe's Howie the Rookie, a play about two lads drinking themselves through a rough night in the underbelly of a depressed Dublin suburb, is a magical evening in the theater. Now playing at the Irish Arts Center, the script consists of two interconnected monologues performed consecutively: one by Howie a pit bull of a character, the other by Rookie, the local lothario. Although they are unrelated, the two unemployed louts share the same last name Lee, which to the violence obsessed Howie, is a wonderful tribute to his idol Bruce Lee. O'Rowe's writing is rough and Joycean, filthy and precise. Like Irish writers Connor McPherson and Enda Walsh, he is adept at the monologue form. What's more, his racing plot lines are adorned with clever turns of phrase, wicked insults and a not over used street vernacular (lodgy-bodgy means to screw) that makes his dialogue pop and his language rhythms unique. The play is cinematic in its storytelling as the two fellows tear through the city on their desperate adventures. Director Nancy Malone, makes use of this quality and keeps her actors moving throughout the industrial set. A rusty backdrop, dingy bench and suspended pipes suggest a dodgy part of town and the many sound cues punctuate the action, bringing clarity to the often accented diction and unusual slang. Despite their heightened lack of sophistication, both characters are funny and obviously as instinctually intelligent as their writer. The script is filled with references to kung fu films and American westerns. One of many colorful screwballs introduced in the story, Chopper Al, makes the Rookie think of the High Chapparal when he says hello (Hi Chopper Al) . A vicious bruiser in his loose fitting Bruce Lee tee shirt waiting to pounce, Howie says "I'm like Tarzan, I dive like the fucking Weismuller I am,." a reference to the first actor to play Tarzan.

Howie is a thug looking forward to a night where he can beat the living daylights out of his former friend, the Rookie, who slept on his gay friend Ollie's mat and left scabies behind for the next visitor, Peaches. A crime magnified by the fact that Peaches was later humiliated: found by his father naked, with his pubic hair shaved and begging to be put down like a dog. Howie, about to attack the Rookie says, "I take down my prey like a feral hunter and hold them tight." Despite the hard hitting dialogue, Mark Byrne sensitively underplays Howie's rage underscoring instead his frustration and lack of opportunity in life. The night ends horribly and Howie is cruelly and unfairly blamed by his parents, who should have blamed themselves. Howie is transformed by grief and it is a much altered man that we hear about (but do not see) in the Rookie's post intermission monologue. The Rookie enters in act two, his hands down his pants scratching, not knowing t he is infected with scabies. He has to come up with seven hundred cash to pay off another thug, Ladyboy, whose exotic fish he accidentally knocked over and killed while scratching himself. So far, he has raised 200 from the "dollies" who are besotted by him: "Handsome bastard I am - break hearts and hymens I do." He is unable to raise any off his parents because he slept with his stepmother to pay back his father for leaving his real mother, and anyway, the father didn't have any money to begin with. Howie, in the second act is obsessed with helping the Rookie, to erase the consequences of the night before which ended in such horrible tragedy. In contrast to the Rookie, the only girl that Howie can get is his friend Peaches' two hundred and thirty pound slut of a sister, called Avalanche, who siddles up behind him while he's having a piss and jerks him off saying, "Slip into me room and slip into me womb."

The attitude of all the men toward women in the play is completely appalling and recognizably Irish. They are judged on looks alone and when not acting as masturbatory tools, expected to stay at home. In a full circle plot twist, Peaches attacks Howie for sleeping with his sister, raising her hopes even though everyone knows she is "unlovable." One attractive girl, who works at a supermarket to provide for her retarded brother, rejects Howie on her one night out (although she later sleeps with the Rookie). Howie remarks that she should be at home minding her brother (who we later discover is actually her child but she was too embarrassed to admit it). The Rookie is equally repulsive, but as played by the incredibly charismatic John O'Callaghan, (who premiered Connor McPherson's monologue Rum and Vodka in the US a few years ago) it is easy to see why the ladies are so attracted to him. Despite his foul mouth and despicable intentions, you find yourself rooting for this man to evade another beating. Although he may not deserve a pummeling for killing the fishes, he certainly has it coming on behalf of the women he has so heinously abused. O'Callaghan is that rare actor who seems ten feet tall on stage; his sublimely talented, effervescent performance is reason enough to see the show. Howie the Rookie is definitely one of the best performances I have seen in a long time.

Tickets are $40/$45 and are available by calling 212.868.4444 or visiting _www.smarttix.com_ (http://www.smarttix.com/) Irish Arts Center

|553 West 51st Street (Between 10th and 11th Avenues).