Doubt: Free From the Burden of Proof

I can't say I know much about the Catholic religion; no more than the average American layperson who gets most of their spiritual training from holiday TV specials. But I do know, like most religions, its followers hold firm beliefs in many inexplicable events based on simple faith. Faith defies all argument.

Perhaps faith isn't the exact word you'd use to describe the central character's motivation in John Patrick Shanley's drama, Doubt, but her beliefs are also so strong as to not require absolute proof.

When Sister Aloysius, the stern, by-the-good-book nun who presides over a Bronx parochial school in 1964,is informed by the nervous young Sister James of troubling behavior by their only black student after a private meeting with Father Flynn, she suspects -- no, is almost immediately convinced of -- the worst. Despite a reasonable explanation from the popular priest, no complaints from the supposed victim and the lack of witnesses, which is the norm in cases like this, she is determined to prove that Father Flynn had sexually molested the child and wants him stopped before he does it again.

Those who champion the rights of victims will find her climb over obstacles such as a sexist hierarchy of red tape and a mother who has controversial reasons for not wanting the case pursued, even if it turns out her child was harmed, will find Sister Aloysius's quest for Father Flynn's removal to be heroic. Those who believe the burden of reasonable doubt must be preserved in order to protect the falsely-accused will find her actions well-meaning, but villainous. Without giving away the ending, I'll just say that at least until near the play's conclusion the author keeps the titular doubts in the forefront by giving the audience everything but actual proof.

Cherry Jones' Broadway career is simply a list of memorable performances. Here, her continually sour-faced expression masks the complexities of the character, which leak out slowly like helium from a balloon. The play takes place at a time when the church began great efforts to assimilate into the secular community and her contention that art classes and popular holiday music are a waste of valuable time comes from a devout affection for the young souls she oversees. As Father Flynn, Brían F. O'Byrne preaches with a chummy neighborhood accent, suggesting the move towards secularism. His lower-middle class charisma, in scenes where he instructs (unseen) children in basketball, can make the man seem a strong role model or slightly creepy, depending on your leanings.

Outstanding performances are also supplied by Heather Goldenhersh, as the naive, questioning and believably comical Sister James, and Adriane Lenox as the boy's mother, who has only one scene, dropping an emotional bombshell on both Sister Aloysius and the audience as to why she will not cooperate with the investigation.

Shanley's economy of language and director Doug Hughes' attention to the tiniest character detail will have your emotions zig-zagging throughout the riveting ninety minutes. Allow yourself a bit of time for post-theatre discussion when you make plans to see this one. You'll have a lot to talk about.

Photos by Joan Marcus; Top: Brían F. O'Byrne
Bottom: Heather Goldenhersh and Cherry Jones