A tale of wild Irish rogues

RALEIGH -- Staging evening-length monologues is tough enough. Adding Irish accents, harsh street language and adult situations triples the challenge. The Delta Boys, two well-established actors, are up to the task with their production of "Howie the Rookie" in Burning Coal Theatre's new space.

Mark O'Rowe's 1999 award-winning play plunges the audience into one night's events in a Dublin public housing neighborhood, conjuring a nightmare world of poverty, drugs and violence. The language is sharply visceral yet hauntingly poetic, bringing boozy pubs, squalid rooms and frightening alleyways vividly to life. O'Rowe also has an astonishing knack for finding genuine humor within these darkly tragic tales of two young men.

Howie Lee is a street tough out for revenge on Rookie Lee (no relation), a neighborhood Lothario whose conquests have led to an outbreak of scabies among Howie's friends from shared mattresses. Howie's hunt for Rookie takes him on picaresque adventures, arguing with his parents, chatting up women in bars and going on a wild ride in friend's van before catching up with Rookie and beating him up.

This beating is the least of Rookie's problems, as he must somehow come up with 700 pounds to pay off neighborhood drug lord Ladyboy for accidentally killing all his betta fighting fish. Life-changing circumstances cause Howie suddenly to come to Rookie's aid in a faceoff with Ladyboy that has tragic consequences.

Lucius Robinson, Delta Boys' co-founder, impresses mightily with his high-energy, fast-talking Howie. He makes the Homeric-style storytelling spellbinding with quick-change character voices and wide-ranging rhythm, tone and tempo. His accent sounds authentic yet isn't overdone, making colloquialisms easily understood through context and body language.

Stephen LeTrent gives Rookie an appropriate cockiness and insensitivity while revealing the character's inner loneliness. Rookie's passivity makes the role less hypnotic than Howie, challenging LeTrent to finish the evening with as much dazzle as Robinson begins it. LeTrent goes far in bringing it off, despite some tentativeness in pacing and accent.

Both actors project more likable characters than the script suggests, but their ability to sustain them without sets or props, and within a restricted space, proves their estimable mettle. Director Kathryn Miliken keeps their work focused and nuanced; Rebecca Buck's lighting adds claustrophobic intensity. Miliken rightly connects the two 40-minute monologues into one unbroken act, giving an arc and impetus to the story.

The coarse, sexually explicit language may be a deal-breaker for some, but the theatrically adventurous will find the play -- and players -- well worth the trip.