Doubt

 

The current production of John Patrick Shanley's play Doubt (starring Amy Ryan, Liev Shreiber, Zoe Kazan, and Quincy Tyler Bernstine) is not as good as the amazing original production from 2005 (starring Cherry Jones, Brian F. O'Byrne, Heather Goldenhersh, and Adriane Lenox), but that's okay. This well-directed, well-acted, solid production does justice to the excellence of the play. 

Liev Schreiber, Amy Ryan
Photo: Joan Marcus

And an excellent play it is! The story of a high school principal (Sister Aloysius; Amy Ryan) in the 1960s suspecting a priest (Father Flynn; Liev Schreiber) of "interfering" with a 12-year-old African-American boy, Doubt expertly shows how perceptions of guilt and innocence differ among observers, even when exposed to the same evidence. Once Sister Aloysius begins suspecting Father Flynn, she perceives everything he says and does as proof of his guilt; it's a case study of confirmation bias. (However, the fact that she finds him guilty with insufficient evidence does not prove he is innocent!) 

Doubt also examines sexism in the church, old ideas versus new, and how values can clash even when people are acting in good faith (if, indeed, they are acting in good faith). 

Then there is the mother of the boy, who is vividly aware of the benefits--and costs--to her son of being in this school. She lives in a world where difficult, horribly pragmatic decisions sometimes need to be made, and she has the strength to make them. Her one scene, an extended discussion with Sister Aloysius about Father Flynn's treatment of her son, is complex, surprising, and in many ways the core of the show.

Amy Ryan clearly depicts Sister Aloysius's rigidity and lack of humor. I was disappointed not to see Tyne Daly, who had to drop out due to health problems, but the level at which Ryan is performing--with virtually no rehearsal--is impressive. Liev Shreiber is good as the priest, but I expect more than "good" from Liev Shreiber. His sermons are remarkably bloodless. Zoe Kazan does sweet ignorance beautifully; her innocent face works in her favor. Quincy Tyler Bernstine is effective as the mother, though I wish there had been more fire in the scene between her and Sister Aloysius.

The design elements are a bit odd. The scenery is attractive but the scenic designer (David Rockwell) is not kind to people sitting audience right, with a wall often in the way of a clear view. And the director (Scott Ellis) is no better: we had the Zoe Kazan's back for much of the show and were given only two brief opportunities to see Quincy Tyler's Bernstine's full face. I don't know if "cheating" (that is, subtly moving one's body over time to be better seen by the audience) is considered old-fashioned, but it surely would have been welcome. The costuming is effective, except that Father Flynn's clothing was a little too nice; did the pants of priests in the early 1960s really taper so perfectly? The lighting is beautiful, clean, and subtle. 

My feelings about Doubt have evolved over the years, as thousands of priests have been revealed as serial molesters. I was more open to the idea of Father Flynn being innocent in 2005. However, Doubt is so well-written that I am still not 100% sure what I think. 

Perhaps the most impressive thing about Doubt is that, under all of the ambiguity and thoughtfulness and compassion lies a brilliantly smooth structure. The play is economical and its 90 minutes seem to take half that time. I suspect, and hope, that Doubt will be done over and over again well into the future. It certainly deserves to be!

Wendy Caster

Love, Love, Love

Every so often, especially when you don't get too close or take them too seriously, selfish people can be enormously entertaining company. In Love, Love, Love, Mike Bartlett's short, lacerating play currently running at the Roundabout, Kenneth (Richard Armitage) and Sandra (Amy Ryan) are some of the most endearing and amusing awful people you're likely to hang with anytime soon. And as my co-blogger Wendy points out in her non-review review of the first preview, even when this utterly self-involved couple is being particularly awful, they're still pretty damned hard to hate. Unless, of course, you are related to them, which is at least occasionally a very different story altogether.

Wendy describes the basic plot in her writeup of the show, which follows Kenneth and Sandra's relationship over what seems to be about fifty years, so I won't rehash it here. But I will reiterate her rave of Amy Ryan's performance, which I agree is superb. Don't get me wrong--the rest of the cast is terrific, too. But Ryan's character is the glue that holds the ensemble together, and this is all the more challenging since her Sandra needs to be loopy and endearing enough not to alienate, while still being inconsiderate and unthinking enough to believably inflict lasting pain on the people who love her. It's a razor-thin line Ryan walks, and she makes it look easy and natural.

The play itself may not be a masterpiece, but it's solid and compelling. It's a tough sell, in some respects: the characters' sadness builds over the course of the three short acts, so the broadest, easiest belly laughs diminish over time. The last act is the saddest, and focuses almost entirely on Kenneth and Sandra's two grown and clearly damaged children: the disillusioned, tightly-coiled Rose (Zoe Kazan) and the vacant, alcoholic Jamie (Ben Rosenfeld). And while I appreciated (and very much agree with) the play's implication that humans are shaped by both nature and nurture, I nevertheless wouldn't argue that this is a terribly startling or profound message, or one that offers much in the way of insight into the fate of the characters. Nor is it terribly new news that the middle class is declining steadily: it is, and it's become regular fodder for playwrights these days. Then again, as far as characters go, the ones in Love, Love, Love are memorable, curiously endearing, and beautifully rendered.

I saw Love, Love, Love with my parents--who are Kenneth and Sandra's contemporaries and who spent the two short intermissions reminiscing about old friends and acquaintances the characters reminded them of--and my teenage daughter, who was highly entertained and, while keenly aware of Kenneth and Sandra's faults, not convinced that their lousy parenting was entirely to blame for their children's shortcomings. Me? I came away from Love, Love, Love feeling twice relieved: on the one hand, I'm grateful that my parents, while of course not perfect, were nevertheless way more insightful and giving than Kenneth and Sandra are. And on the other hand, my daughter's reaction to the show gives me hope that someday, just maybe, no matter how much her dad and I screw her and her brother up, she'll be grudingly willing to let us off the hook for some of our very worst behaviors.

Love, Love, Love

This is not a review. I saw the first preview of Love, Love, Love, and a review wouldn't be appropriate. However, the show is already in excellent shape, and quite interesting, and completely worth writing about. Take my random natterings with a extra-large grain of salt, and beware: there will be spoilers.

Love, Love, Love is by Mike Bartlett, whose King Charles III was downright thrilling. It follows a couple of remarkably self-centered people from their meet-not-so-cute in the 1960s  (Act I) through their marriage and life with teenaged children (Act II) to their retirement years (Act III). If drama is about people learning or growing or changing, this is not a drama, although parts are quite moving. If comedy is about laughing at people who neither learn nor grow nor change, it's definitely a comedy. And parts are quite funny.