As a foreigner in Dublin it has always amazed me how Irish people connect with each other and allow others to have a taste of this admirable togetherness. No more so than during the Dublin Theatre Festival. The festival spreads literary joy through the city and brings people from all around the world to the capital. This year's festival is stringing the highlights together, but when a Conor McPherson play finally comes home it is quite the event. First performed in 1997 by Brian Cox, St Nicholas has lost nothing of its power thanks to a stellar performance by Brendan Coyle.

There's an addictive power to criticizing other people's work. Not because you enjoy making or breaking a play or a band, but because you relish being heard. It's the fact that people listen to you and follow your advice regarding how good something really is. You want the attention, you want to share in the artists' spotlight. It's quite an uncomfortable feeling to hear the life of a theatre critic described so accurately. You either recognise parts of yourself in McPherson's words or one of your colleagues. The latter being more easily accepted. In St Nicholas we see a man who's seen it all, done it all and is still as miserable as any man can be. An alcoholic on the brink of abandoning his family, numb to the effects his decisions and his words might have on other people's lives. He's on a rocky road to disaster, guided by drink and the idle hope of finding something to revive him.

Brendan Coyle is already sitting on the stage when you walk into the venue, the stage is set as a dark office. Newspaper pages stick to the artificial windows, there's a chair with a writing desk under which newspapers are stacked as if the character is so presumptuous that he wants to be able to reach down and read one of his own pieces, congratulating himself on another brilliant article. The divide between audience and actor is literally - there are seats on the stage - and figuratively so small that Coyle easily bridges it. Small touches to the shoulders of the audience members as he walks around, sitting down among the crowd, making sure that he addresses everyone as he paces up and down the stage. It's almost as if he's marking his territory, showing everyone in the room that you're there because he allowed you to be in his presence to listen to this story.

Coyle is a remarkable actor who switches between emotions effortlessly. Whenever the character reflects on his family life there's an underlying feeling of guilt. He knows he's done wrong and at the same time he's quite aware of the fact there's nothing he can do to redeem himself and he doesn't really want to try. He crawls deeper and deeper into this hole he dug for himself knowing he can't fix anything, but not willing to face up to the facts. Guilt towards his family is easily mixed with just the right amount of self-righteousness to have you pity and resent him at the same time. There's a focus in Coyle's eyes and even when someone's phone goes off (why won't people listen when you're asked to switch it off?) he merely acknowledges it with a subtle lift of his eyebrow.

When the play dives into vampire territory the shift to the darkness at the heart of St Nicholas follows so smoothly that you never even doubt vampires exist. It's a credit to McPherson as a writer that even in the midst of this enigmatic report there's humour to be found. Who knew vampires could become quite obsessive over a pile of rice? I'd like to be able to tell my 8-year old self after watching Buffy The Vampire Slayer that rice would be much more effective than having a stake under your pillow. Just in case.

Ironically, this man begins to feel alive again when he encounters the vampires, who are essentially dead people, if we may believe the stories we have been told. He's back in a position of power, the only situation he feels comfortable with. Vampires feed off people, the way he used the arts to enhance his influence as a critic. He knows there's something uneasy about the situation he finds himself in, which he only begins to acknowledge when he finally realises that they may actually hurt someone he cares about.

St Nicholas is a very moving and at the same time disturbing play, because at the centre of it all there's this man who's wrestling with himself and the world around him. Stuck in a society where you're not allowed to stand still and reflect on the choices you made that brought you to the edge of your own sanity. Life goes on, but if you look for the silver lining hard enough you may actually find hope.