by The new revival of Doubt, the first on Broadway since its premiere in 2005, is full of shadows: suspicions, secrets and intimations. But also with years of headlines about endemic sexual abuse in the Catholic church and the original Broadway show, which won the Pulitzer prize for playwright John Patrick Shanley and several Tony awards, and for the 2008 film adaptation, an acting tour with Meryl. Streep, Amy Adams, the late Philip Seymour Hoffman and one career-defining scene from Viola Davis. It’s a show heavy on context, personal and otherwise; you can feel the weight of precedent and judgment as Father Flynn (Liev Schreiber) emerges from the darkness at the Todd Haimes Theater in his uniform, vital before a fake stained glass window, preaching to his flock – the audience – about the power of connection doubt.
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And yet this new production, directed by Scott Ellis and starring Schreiber and Amy Ryan, stands alone. Like its predecessors, the revival, which runs through mid-April, keeps things simple – four well-acted performances with a powerful alchemy of faith and righteousness, thoughtful costumes by Linda Cho, a set by David Rockwell that varies from the principal’s office to economic , a walled garden and spare pulpit at St. Nicholas parish in the Bronx, 1964. Subtitled A Parable on the stage version, Shanley’s play remains a stirring and absorbing examination of intellect, institution and uncertainty in a powder keg of power. local. It’s a testament to the magnetism of the performances and the play itself – its pared-down structure, its tension between agendas – that the 90-minute show unfolds and feels like half that.
Ryan ably takes on the role of Sister Aloysius, the head nun of St. Nicholas, a role originated by Cherry Jones and played by Streep. Her dominance, if mechanical at first, is even more impressive when she took on the role at the last minute, after Tyne Daly pulled out just days before previews, citing health issues. (The 77-year-old actress is reportedly recovering from an unexpected hospital stay and is expected to make a full recovery.) Aloysius is a familiar version of the norm – tough, rigid, disciplined, a woman with starch and pressure on her worldview. into the joyless totems of piety (“pleasure is vice”, “in pursuit of injustice, a step away from God”). Her disdain for secular life and pleasure – she dabbles in paganism in Frosty the Snowman – is often played for laughs, especially when contrasted with the innocence and broad passion of Sister James (Zoe Kazan).
The two sisters suspect that Father Flynn has abused an eighth-grade boy – Donald Muller, 12 years old, the first and only Black student in the school, to whom he has given special attention. Sister James sees her anxiety as a problem to be explained, praised and replaced; Aloysius sees certainty by any means necessary, however, Father Flynn’s steadfast protestations of innocence and Donald’s mother (Quincy Tyler Bernstine)’s powerful level of her moral high ground.
If the audience is familiar with this parable, it is probably through the film version, which is more impressive than this fairly juntous staging; The film also tips the scales towards Father Flynn’s guilt, through evidence and the presence of a child actor playing Donald. There is no such implication – belief in what Father Flynn has or has not described, as he often does in life and in court, comes down to a gut feeling based on observable evidence. Schreiber, with his one-time Marvel upbringing, can’t help but play Flynn as a little creepy and intimidating; his presence has a natural command and gravitas, the kind that draws viewers to respect and admiration. His Flynn is disarmingly eloquent and awkward; He likes to guide the boys on their free throw shots.
But it’s easy to assume the worst about Father Flynn – since the play began in 2004, two years after the Boston Globe Spotlight investigations, the Catholic church has, for many, been synonymous with sexual abuse and rampant coverage. We all know it can happen, it will happen, it just happened like this. Which makes for an uncomfortable viewing experience in the play – relying entirely on guts as a barometer of certainty. The believer quickly turns to what is important, who benefits from the pursuit of righteousness, whether to follow principle, practicality or faith. Little in this story, as in life, is certain, although it is certainly not interesting to watch.
