Doubt’s first revival on Broadway since its premiere in 2005 is filled with shadows of suspicion, secrets and insinuations. But there are also years of headlines about rampant sexual abuse in the Catholic church, and a showcase of acting mastery as Meryl, the original Broadway show and the 2008 film adaptation, which earned playwright John Patrick Shanley a Pulitzer Prize and multiple Tony awards. A career-defining scene from Streep, Amy Adams, the late Philip Seymour Hoffman and Viola Davis. A show full of personal and other contexts; You can feel the weight of precedent and judgment as Father Flynn (Liev Schreiber) emerges from the darkness in his robes at the Todd Haimes Theatre, vivacious in front of a faux-stained-glass window, preaching to his flock—the audience—about the unifying power. I have doubts.
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However, this new production, directed by Scott Ellis and starring Schreiber and Amy Ryan, stands alone. Like its forebears, the revival, which runs through mid-April, keeps things simple: four well-acted performances with a potent alchemy of faith and righteousness, Linda Cho’s reasonable costumes, an economically transformed set from David Rockwell’s principal’s office, an exterior in the St. Nicholas neighborhood in the Bronx. the walled garden and the bench, 1964. The stage version is subtitled A Parable, and Shanley’s play remains a provocative and gripping examination of intuition, institution and uncertainty in the sealed powder keg of local power. It’s a testament to the appeal of the performances and the play (its abbreviated structure, the tension of conflicting agendas) that it flies by in half the 90-minute show.
Ryan masterfully assumes the mantle of Sister Aloysius, the prioress of St Nicholas, a role created by Cherry Jones and exemplified by Streep. While initially mechanical, his command is even more impressive considering he took on the role at the last minute after Tyne Daly withdrew just days before previews, citing health issues. (The 77-year-old actor is reportedly recovering from a surprise hospitalization and is expected to make a full recovery.) Aloysius is a familiar version of this habit; A tough, strict, disciplined woman who guarded and suppressed his worldview. to the joyless totems of piety (“satisfaction is a vice”, “in pursuit of error, one step away from God”). His distaste for the secular and the tasteful (fueled by paganism in Frosty the Snowman) is often successfully used for laughs, especially when contrasted with the wide-eyed naivety and passion of Sister James (Zoe Kazan).
Both sisters suspect Father Flynn of molesting an eighth-grade boy: Donald Muller, 12, the school’s first and only black student, to whom he paid special attention. Sister James sees her anxiety as a problem that needs to be explained, soothed, and arrested; Aloysius sees a certainty that must be proven by any means necessary, despite Father Flynn’s determined objections to his innocence and the forceful demolition of his morally superior position by Donald’s mother (Quincy Tyler Bernstine).
If audiences are familiar with this trope, it will likely be through the film version, which is more sinister than this relatively flashy staging; The film also tips the scales of Father Flynn’s guilt through evidence and the presence of a child actor playing Donald. I have no such inference here; Belief in what Father Flynn did or did not do comes down to a gut feeling based on fallible statements, as it so often does in life and in court. Schreiber, in his one-off Marvel nature, can’t help but play Flynn as a bit imposing and intimidating; His presence has the kind of natural command and weight that draws the viewer into awe and respect. His Flynn is simultaneously disarmingly colloquial and groundbreaking; He likes to instruct the boys on free throw shooting.
Still, it’s easy to assume the worst of Father Flynn; Since the play was released in 2004, two years after the Boston Globe Spotlight investigations, the Catholic church has become synonymous to many with sexual abuse and widespread cover-up. We all know it could happen, it could happen, it just happens. This makes the game’s obfuscation of facts and evidence (relying solely on instinct as a barometer of accuracy) a disturbing viewing experience. Who to believe is quickly distorted as to what is important; who will benefit from the pursuit of righteousness, whether following principles, practicality, or faith. In this story, as in life, little is certain, but it is undoubtedly fascinating to watch.