CONORMcPHERSON has invariably been referred to as the finest playwright of his generation. And this work from McPherson's early back catalogue shows a dramatist and writer with almost uncanny control and direction. Dublin Carol is one of three plays that will show at Andrew's Lane Theatre before it closes and it ensures the theatre will depart on a high note.

It tells the story of John, a middle-aged alcoholic undertaker. The play opens with John, hungover and chatting to Mark, who is helping out while John's boss Noel is sick in hospital. John takes a swig of whiskey. "I'm old, I'll die if I don't drink this, " he tells Mark.

Dublin Carol is a grim tale, as all those involving alcoholism and its effects must be, but while McPherson is poignant and can be crude, he is always funny. The bleakness of John's situation is shot through with humour and John (played wonderfully by Liam Carney) has a wealth of lines such as "A woman's love can be terribly constant. It can last for years."

McPherson captures Irish mannerisms and sayings perfectly; John speaks with an accent that gives two syllables to words like 'road' and 'film'.

The dialogue is pitch-perfect, and McPherson knows when actions speak louder than words, letting the characters use their hands, as Irish people so often do, to say something that they cannot quite find the words to describe.

We gradually come to realise John is a barely functioning alcoholic. In his past lies the trail of his broken family, his wife Helen and his daughter Mary, along with a son who lives in England.

Mary shows up by surprise (the last time she saw her father was eight years ago) to tell John that Helen is dying and wants to see him.

Obviously this news is so shocking John has to have a drink. "It's a bit early, " says Mary.

Vanessa Keogh puts in a spectacular, understated performance as Mary, her pauses and dead-pan statements adding excellent comic relief.

John drinks constantly throughout their conversation and eventually Mary asks him not to drink any more, so that if he does go to the hospital that evening he will not be drunk.

When the third scene begins with John hopelessly drunk, the audience groans with frustration and disappointment. He told his daughter he would be sober when she arrived to pick him up for the hospital and now he is a mess. All her stories of his escapades when she was a child have a terrible inevitability about them, as does John's drunken state now. There is something tragic about the song 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas' playing on the radio.

John tries to sober up, cleans his face, does up his shirt and tie as the clock chimes five o'clock.

McPherson leaves us with the small hope that John might be able to change, but that optimism is perfectly weighted with what every family who has an alcoholic member knows . . . the dark suspicion that he will not.