One happy consequence of the pandemic is that Jobsite Theater’s acclaimed production of “Doubt: A Parable” is available virtually to anyone with computer access and $9.99 in their pocket. It’s a rare, affordable opportunity to view John Patrick Shanley’s Pulitzer Prize-winning play that continues to resonate just as strongly now as when it snatched the 2005 Tony Award for Best Play.
This virtual live capture experience is strong once you accept the presence of microphones that may disappear in the theatre. And if sometimes the emotions that work on stage swell beyond what translates perfectly to video, there’s still plenty to captivate you.
“Doubt: A Parable”
Jobsite Theater (virtual)
Feb. 5-11, $9.99
jobsitetheater.org
The multi-camera shoot is fluid. Rebekah Eugenia Lazaridis’s set design and Brian Smallheer’s dappled lighting presents realistic fragments, which transport us to St. Nicholas Church School. It’s autumn 1964 in the Bronx. The church is adjusting to the reforms of the ongoing Vatican II Council. LBJ has finally twisted enough arms to pass the Civil Rights Act, but voting rights and fair housing are months and years away respectively. The foment of the ERA and Stonewall are still to come. And no one is yet aware of the priests as pedophiles cover up that blew up in The Boston Globe in 2002. It’s only from our contemporary perspective knowing of that context that we view the play.
Katrina Stevenson’s pitch perfect costumes reinforce the nun’s spartan life. The head-swallowing black bonnet tied with a Medusa-esque bow barely allows Roxanne M. Fay’s gaunt features to peer out. But Fay authoritatively captures the constipated certainty of Sister Aloysius, the rigid principal who can’t abide the appearance of ball point pens or any pedagogical techniques that don’t use fear as a springboard. She became a nun after her husband’s death in WWII, and is firmly squeezed by the church’s old school hierarchy.
She’s clearly jealous and disapproving of the young charismatic Father Flynn, embodied by David M. Jenkins (who’s also responsible for the evocative sound design). Flynn is just a bit too familiar with the students, particularly with the lone young Black altar boy on the cusp of puberty. Plus, Flynn advocates impeccably clean, well-manicured, but longish fingernails. And you know what that implies.
Shanley uses Flynn as a compelling mouthpiece. His sermon on gossip is a parable. When confronted, the priest confesses that “the truth makes for a bad sermon. It tends to be confusing and have no clear conclusion."
The stubborn Sister Aloysius seeks confirmation of her suspicions from Emily Belvo’s innocent and eager Sister James, all the while berating the young nun’s enthusiastic love of history. And she dismisses the humanizing influence and purpose of teaching eighth graders music, art, and dance. Sister James is often the voice of reason and suggests that they simply ask Father Flynn to explain. The meeting does not go well. Flynn violates the principal’s space, takes too much sugar in his tea, and suggests that the “pagan” Frosty the Snowman may be a way to modernize the Christmas pageant. And then, the true reason for the meeting is exposed.
Finally, the young boy’s mother is called to the obsessed principal’s office. Andresia Moseley’s Mrs. Muller is a powerful advocate for her son, just hoping to lay the groundwork for a productive future that still seems murky in 1964. She’s firmly on Father Flynn’s side appreciating the special attention he showers on her sensitive boy, who has a troubled relationship with an abusive father. But Sister Aloysius is a pit bull, and develops a scheme to get to the truth. The purpose of art is not to provide answers. “Doubt” raises questions that we take with ourselves outside of the theater. It’s a conversation in our time which resonates, as well, in a different way than it did when it was written. We’re surrounded by certainty that 2020 was a stolen election leading to an insurrection in our nation’s Capitol building despite the known facts.
Human beings are uncomfortable with doubt; we crave certainty. But discomfort is the beginning of a learning moment, it’s not the time to swipe right. Surely, that is the case with Sister Aloysius’ cramped worldview. But, it’s also the case that hugely influential teachers or religious leaders often succumb to temptations. One of my early mentors left a great legacy, but also the stain of mishandling power. Is it possible that someone as charismatic and caring as Father Flynn is also equally guilty of this duplicity? Director Summer Bohnenkamp’s carefully wrought production leaves us no doubt . . . that there are no specific answers; only lingering questions.
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This article appears in Feb 4-10, 2021.
