Okay, first up, bless me father, hear my confession. I've been cast in the part of Fr Flynn before. So to hear these lines again, it's like hearing a familiar song... But a cover. So that’s a thing to know when reading this review.
That said, Dino Dimitriadis’ Apocalypse Theatre Company production of John Patrick Shanley’s 2004 Pulitzer Prize-winning ‘Doubt: A Parable’ is beautiful. The masterful nuanced moments of lighting and space between scenes give glimpses into the characters as effective as the dialogue itself. Exquisite lighting, set and sound design. A perfect canvas for the story to inhabit.
So, what of the actors? Well, if an actor's face is their instrument, then that of Belinda Giblin and the habit-framed profile of Sr Aloysius, is a Steinway. To find the mind’s construction in the face. Playing nocturnes peering in side stage windows. Diminished chords of her convictions, her doubts, her back story and a world in flux around her. Sr James is the kind hearted, innocent violin always hoping for resolutions. Fr Flynn the prepared cello. Mrs Muller the heartbeat.
Somehow tonight the two nuns’ early interchanges are met with laughter by this audience. It doesn't work for me. It betrays the grave high stakes of the later scenes. A gravity which the performances later command. For me, this piece should be like cold holy water on your '60s winter NYC forehead. A death stare the priest gives you for laughing at mass.
It takes one hell of a performance to top Giblin’s with just one scene, but with the arrival of Mrs Muller, Charmaine Bingwa is mesmerising. Her costume captures the time period perfectly and reorientates us. And in her, Giblin/Sr Aloysius has met her perfect dance/sparring partner. The pacing and delivery shine. The faith and honest convictions of a nun head to head with a mother’s love for “my boy”. Two irresistible forces. The physically abusive father. “I’m talking about the boy’s nature now”. Fr Flynn to her is the strong supportive male presence that is lacking in her boy’s life. Superlatives fail to describe what I experienced in this room for this scene. Just go see it.
In the 2008 Shanley-directed film adaptation, the author told Philip Seymour Hoffman the secret we all are left to ponder. That of Fr Flynn’s guilt or not. And it is rich source material to draw from, all four actors (with Streep, Adams and Davis) receiving Oscar nominations.
Damian De Montemas’ Fr Flynn is a measured interpretation, perhaps too grounded. The character’s early warmth or fire/ruin of the last scene not fully igniting. It felt like Matilda Ridgway’s Sr James flew a little close to the Adams’ version, but found conviction and bravery to confront Sr Aloysius. Ultimately her compassion prevails. Racial realities of the time, the patriarchy of the church, the rudder being shot off the American dreamboat with the Kennedy assassination, a mother's love for her son, a father’s homophobia, the man of the cloth’s compassion, an aging nun’s icy rigour, the innocence of youth. All these spirits are alive in the room. And the dialogue in each scene is a tête-à-tête. The older world weary Sr. Aloysius always a few steps ahead of Sr. James. Fr Flynn’s wall of genuine compassion, empathy, and male dominance slowly dismantled.
It all hinges around who to believe. And with all great writing, it reveals ourselves to ourselves. Based on our convictions. "There are things I cannot say, do you understand that?" pleads Fr Flynn in the penultimate scene. Shanley has said the final scene takes place in the bar afterwards where the audience discusses everything.
“Doubt can be a bond as powerful and sustaining as certainty. And when you are lost, you are not alone.”
This lot should have got on like a house on fire and they really didn’t. A wonderful production. Highly recommended.
