Sean O'Casey is an old man now, living alone England and far from Dublin, the city of his birth. His youth there was a time of violent action, set against the background of the bloody Irish up-risings of the first quarter of the 20th century. Most of his plays celebrate the events of that period and, in 1942, he once more returned vicariously to write a play about a Dublin strike that took place in 1913. But this play, Red Roses for Me, is less a drama than a ceremony of remembrance.

Not that Red Roses for Me lacks the vitality of the earlier plays, for it is still the familiar O'Casey combination of humor and tragedy. The humor is more subdued now, however, and the terrible urgency that marked Juno and the Paycock has given way to a more somber and reflective atmosphere. As part of the change in tone, O'Casey adopts a prose style that is rich in metaphor and, at times, very close to poetry. The plot, in contrast, is extremely simple, telling the story of a young railroad worker with artistic inclina-who leaves his ambitions and the girl who loves him to become a leader in the strike.

The bare plot, however, serves only as a frame on which the playwright hangs his opinions on social reform, religion, and the class struggle. At times, as in the first scene of act two, O'Casey ignores the story altogether and inserts songs, a ballet, and passages of almost pure lyrical poetry. As a result, the play generates considerable emotional intensity but lacks direction.

The very richness and confusion of the play make it difficult to perform. When tragedy and comedy follow each other so closely, only a very talented director can keep them from colliding. John O'Shaughnessy does not quite manage it. The comic scenes are satisfactorily quick and lively but, when the drama assumes a more serious mood, the staging begins to look like a religious procession. A ceremonial air may be appropriate at times, but not quite as often as O'Shaughnessy seems to think.

The actors, too, have their problems; for exhibits a tendency to write long and difficult speeches. Kevin McCarthy, in the role of the young worker, attacks his part with much energy and earnestness. His characterization is convincing, even his longest speeches sound unassuming and natural. But Eileen Crowe, as the young man's mother, surrenders to the temptation towards declamation and gives an unfortunately shallow performance. Joyce Sullivan, the girl, does not make the same mistake--she is entirely charming and at case.

It would be easy to conclude that Red Roses for Me does not show Sean O'Casey at his best, a conclusion which is on the whole quite justified. Even mediocre O'Casey, however, is superior to the best that most other contemporary playwrights have been able to produce, and many parts of Red Roses for Me tend to prove that the old Irishman is the greatest living play writer.