January 31, 2008

To Doubt Is Human

(Editor's note: The following commentary comes courtesy of CityBeat contributing writer Tom McElfresh, who reviews a pair of theatrical productions recently staged in Indianapolis.)

There’s a curious consonance between two plays heating up Indy stages these cold winter nights. As unlike as figs and flatirons in their theatrical style, Doubt and End Days are alike in the topic that playwrights John Patrick Shanley and Deborah Zoe Laufer investigate and the conclusion that each reaches — elliptically in his case, more directly in hers.

They aver this: To doubt is to be wise, humane and, ultimately, to find inner strength while clinging blindly to some absolutist certainty is ultimately destructive, no matter how comforting such a certainty might seem.

In the process each playwright levels significant charges at religions that permit, even promote, obsession — be it within the rigid structure of a Catholic school, parish and diocese or in the individual practice of their beliefs by convinced Evangelicals. Let me be clear here: Shanley and Laufer criticize self-serving, personal fervor, not Christianity per se — though Laufer, at least, seems doubtful of its efficacy.

In 2003 Shanley won both a Tony and a Pulitzer for Doubt and richly deserved both honors. Now, Indiana Repertory Theatre (IRT) is presenting it in a virtually flawless main-stage production — directed with clarified simplicity by playwright-in-residence James Still, lit with chilly edges by Lap Chi Chu and set and dressed by Ann Sheffield in a sort of haunted autumn with bare trees, strewn leaves, massive arches and a huge looming window.

It’s 1964. Aging Sister Aloysius runs St. Nicholas School with an iron grip, guarding her narrow slice of authority and glorying in the fact that the students are terrified of her. She is sharply critical of young Sister James for making her history lessons engaging. Students, the headmistress dictates, need only accept and memorize what they’re told. They have no need to understand or, heaven forefend, to enjoy learning. Later, Sister James will say that Sister Aloysius “stole the joy” from her teaching.

Sister Aloysius is pressured. Her authority is threatened both by evolving notions of education and by an exuberant, basketball-playing parish priest whom the kids like even more than they like Sister James. Soon enough the headmistress becomes convinced that Father Flynn has molested a 12-year-old altar boy. She has no actual proof, only a conviction that reeks of self-service and retaliation. Undeterred by opposition from the priest, from the young nun or from the mother of the allegedly abused boy, she takes certain steps that result in great pain and loss for everyone — including herself.

Wisely (and most provocatively) Shanley only hints at answers to questions of guilt, innocence and motive, leaving lots of room for a healthy uncertainty. Audiences leaving the theater at the end of Doubt’s swift, uninterrupted 90 minutes have much to ponder. And to doubt.

IRT’s longtime associate artistic director, Priscilla Lindsay, is simply, perfectly splendid as Aloysius, her soft, round face and softly inflected voice playing counterpoint to the iron will within and making it all the more alarming. Cora Vander Broek’s Sister James carefully submits to the specifics of the head nun’s will without allowing her own will to be broken. Father Flynn’s character and behavior are conundrums, his homilies double-edged. Lenny von Dohlen carefully balances the characterization to attract the proper mix of empathy and, well, doubt. Dwanda Nickole play’s the boy’s mother with an inner strength that is a fearsome match for that of Sister Aloysius. (Doubt continues through Feb. 9. Info on line at www.irtlive.com)

Along with other members of the National New Play Network, Indy’s Phoenix Theatre is participating in the “rolling world premiere” of Laufer’s End Days — following a production at Florida Stage (Manalapan) and preceding one at Curious Theatre (Denver). Not a tour. Each theater casts, directs, designs and presents the show independently. The production ending its all but sold-out Phoenix run on Feb. 3 manages to be thought-provoking, not a little disquieting and seriously, encouragingly funny.

Meet the Steins. Father Arthur (Bill Simmons) has been catatonic since 9/11. He won’t eat, won’t bathe, won’t communicate or participate in life, just slumps and sleeps. Daughter Rachel (Phebe Taylor) is deeply rebellious — for all that her rebellion expresses itself in off-the-rack Goth black. Mother Sylvia (Martha Jacobs) has chucked her Jewish heritage and embraced Jesus. Literally. Apparition or hallucination, there he is, personated by Matthew Roland — with the white robe, the long curly, red-gold locks and an irritatingly patient simper. Jesus likes posing with a poster of himself and keeps Sylvia company at protest demonstrations.

Meanwhile, Rachel develops a rich fantasy life built around imagined conversations with astrophysicist Stephen Hawking (also personated by Roland) He glides silently in an electric wheel chair and simulates computerized speech generation. But Rachel’s romance with Hawking is disturbed by the attentions of Nelson Steinberg (Matthew van Oss), a frightening bright teenager from across the street who was able to free up his own sweet personality only by taking on the tacky persona and jeweled white jumpsuit of Elvis Presley.

Into this stew stir Sylvia’s absolutist certainty that the end days discussed in the Book of Revelation are upon her and her family. The “rapture” is coming Wednesday. She’s convinced. Time, Earth and present reality will all be swept away and only the “saved” will float up to a heavenly forever with harps and streets of gold and eternal communion with Jesus. Her problem is that Arthur, Rachel and Nelson don’t share her conviction. They just won’t get alarmed. She grows more and more frantic.

There’s accidental value in Sylvia’s mania. Irritation with her certainty drags Arthur out of his torpor and Rachel back from the excesses of rebellion. They, in turn, help Nelson exert his own personality and engineer the delectably comic sight of Nelson striking Elvis-in-concert poses as he practices the portion of the Torah he’s to read at his bar mitzvah.

Well, Wednesday comes. Sylvia panics. A violent thunderstorm sweeps in and knocks out electric power. This is it, Sylvia thinks. Get ready to rapture. It’s all over. Only it isn’t. The storm passes. The lights pop back on. As she warmly embraces Nelson and her family, Rachel asks the question at the core of End Days, here paraphrased: “Is it so awful if this is all there is?”

Laufer’s originality in expressing her ideas is impressive. This script is mostly though not wholly magic. Toward the end some scenes grow repetitive. It might be more effective if Jesus did not speak, just smiled his vacuous smile and let people put words in his mouth. And Sylvia could use a more overt epiphany back to reality.

Phoenix founder and Artistic Director Bryan Fonseca staged the piece lightly, with the aplomb and subtlety he’s taught his audiences to expect. The cast members are uniformly able, except for young Van Oss, who is someone to be absolutist about. Through he’s a freshman theater student at Butler University, his Beatles shag, his piano grin, his buzz-saw voice and his impeccable comic timing make him someone we’re likely to hear a lot more about. (Info at www.phoenixtheatre.org/.) Both productions are highly recommended. — Tom McElfresh