Doubt_____________
Playwright: John Patrick Shanley
At: Shubert LaSalle Bank Theatre, 18 W. Monroe
Phone: 312-902-1400; $20-$72
Runs through: Jan. 28
BY MARY SHEN BARNIDGE
Imagine that it's 1964. The president of the United States was assassinated a year earlier, 'feminist' wasn't yet in Betty Friedan's vocabulary and Vatican II was still debating reforms in Catholic church liturgy. Nuns were perceived as terrifying martinets—their disciplinary fervor rumored to be fueled by hormonal frustration—while gentle priests were the infallible enforcers of God's great plan. In short, it was a time before we knew everything that we now know—or think we know.
John Patrick Shanley's arena may be a parochial school in the Bronx ( not unlike that which he himself attended ) , but his theme is the universal threat of corruption in high places, its stakes echoing those of Watergate, Enron or any of the well-publicized ( or still undiscovered ) secular betrayals of public trust in recent history. Our potential whistle-blower is Sister Aloysius, the school principal who rules over her charges with puritanical vigilance. The target of her suspicions is the charismatic Father Flynn, who may—or may not—have taken 'inappropriate liberties' with one of the eighth-grade boys. Does Sister A. see what her colleagues prefer to ignore, or is she allowing her prejudices to color her perceptions? Is Father F. a pioneer in the new touchy-feely ministry, or a predator hiding in the ultimate good-old-boy network? More important, can their conflict be resolved without injury to innocent parties?
In ordinary circumstances, Cherry Jones' star power would decide the question in our minds. But Jones is renowned for a total-immersion approach to her craft rivaling that of the legendary Glenda Jackson, courageously endowing Sr. Aloysius with the arthritic stride and sibilant lisp of an Appalachian mountain witch. These initially repellent traits—all that's needed to complete the picture is a corncob pipe—only enhance her persona to invoke a grandeur dwarfing the self-imposed naiveté of her gullible peers.
A hero needs formidable adversaries, however, and director Douglas Hughes has exhorted his supporting players to explore their characters' ambiguities with equal diligence. Chris McGarry as the squeaky-clean Fr. Flynn; Lisa Joyce as the vulnerable Sr. James; and Caroline Stefanie Clay as the pragmatic parent of the child under scrutiny all emerge as complex personalities with ethics sufficiently tractable to spark the skepticism necessary for suspenseful drama. When Fr. Flynn complacently seats himself at Sr. Aloysius' desk for their conference in her office, an audible murmur of disapproval rarely heard in downtown playhouses signified opening-night audiences' censure of his insolence.