Walking into the Corpus Playroom for a play set in Dublin at Christmas time to be greeted by The Pogues’ ‘Fairytale of New York’ could not have been more perfectly stereotypical. Nor could Rosie Robson’s production of Conor McPherson’s Dublin Carol been more beautiful and nuanced.

It soon becomes apparent that everything about the look, feel and indeed sound of the play has been carefully arranged: the chintzy multi-coloured fairy lights cast a seasonal electric glow over a jarring mixture of intensely devout or psychotically cheery Christmas cards. The distinctly functional furniture gently belies the homely warmth these yuletide decorations strain to create. And together with the Christmas songs chirruping cheerfully in the background, it is hard not to feel slightly sick.

The play is a three-hander, revolving around the lives of middle-aged undertaker and part-time alcoholic John, his 20-year-old workmate Mark, and his daughter Mary. The Christmas Carol-esque plot sees John haunted by the ghosts of his past as Christmas comes round once more to remind him of how lonely he is. Michael Campbell plays the bibulous Irishman confidently: the fullness of his performance comes through not only in his impeccable, profanity-riddled Dublin accent, but his childish warmth and rich belly-laughter. His feel for the lyricism of McPherson’s script is evident in how quickly the audience forgets they are witnessing what is for the most part a glorified monologue.

Patrick Fee is perhaps more nervous as Mark, and too often freezes his body language. There is, however, something naturalistic about the way his and John’s relationship develops over the course of the play: at first maintaining a stiff, awkward politeness, unsure how to behave around his colleague, he gradually loosens up, as lighthearted banter becomes full-blown confessions of regret, self-loathing and utter, black dog misery. Jenny Scudamore is redoubtable yet understated as Mary, though occasional overacting grates against the play’s quotidian gloom. It is when she is at her least theatrical that Scudamore allows McPherson’s plainsong to ring out: ‘Sometimes I smell you - and everything comes back’. As with many tragedies, the strength of Dublin Carol lies in its unsettlingly elliptical script.

Yet for all the ability of the sturdy supporting duo, Campbell is strongest alone, as only then does the poignancy of his situation becomes apparent. As he lumbers wheezing across the stage, each laboured breath bringing him audibly closer to the grave, the fairy lights continue to cast their eerie glare across the cardboard face of the Virgin Mary.

Dublin Carol is playing until Saturday at the Corpus Playroom, 7pm