'The Savannah Disputation' Makes Religion Fun

The Savannah Disputation By Evan Smith Directed by Paul Daigneault; Eric Levenson, Scenic Design; Gail Astrid Buckley, Costume Design; Daniel H. Jentzen, Lighting Design; Andrew Duncan Will, Sound Design; Dawn Schall, Production Stage Manager

CAST: Nancy E. Carroll (Mary), Carolyn Charpie (Melissa), Timothy Crowe (Father Murphy), Paula Plum (Margaret) 

Performances through October 17 at SpeakEasy Stage Company, Boston Center for the Arts, 527 Tremont Street in Boston's South End Box Office 617-933-8600 or www.bostontheatrescene.com.

There is no disputing the fact that SpeakEasy Stage Company breaks fast from the starting gate for its 19^th season with the New England premiere of Evan Smith's The Savannah Disputation. It's hard to go wrong with Nancy E. Carroll and Paula Plum as leading ladies, backed up by Trinity Rep veteran actor Timothy Crowe and a startling debut by recent Boston College alumna Carolyn Charpie. Somebody up there must be very fond of SpeakEasy Artistic Director Paul Daigneault to have blessed him with this über-talented quartet to direct and he elicits masterful performances from them all. 

A native of Savannah, Georgia, the playwright uses that present day locale for his story of two elderly spinster sisters who share their home and their Catholic faith, the bedrock of their existence. Their dialogue is replete with things that occur at church, their living room is decorated with numerous religious icons, and their scant social life seems to consist of having their favorite priest Father Murphy over for dinner every Thursday night. In terms of temperament, the sisters are as different as night and day. The older of the two is irascible Mary O'Brian (Carroll) who wears her grumpiness like a crown of thorns, proudly proclaiming, "That's the way the Lord made me, it's not my fault." She both looks out for and bullies her slightly younger sibling Margaret (Plum), a good-natured and somewhat intellectually-limited woman. What they have in common is wanting to believe what they believe, without necessarily understanding why they believe it. As long as they go to Mass, maintain a strong connection with Father Murphy, and recite lengthy passages of the scripture from memory, they're good Catholics.

Enter a monkey wrench in the persona of anti-Catholic missionary Melissa (Charpie) from the Evangelical Church of the Holy Spirit Church (that's right, they say the word church twice in their name), eager to convert the sisters to her brand of Christianity. Her chirpy proselytizing is like fingernails on a chalkboard to Mary who quickly bars her from the door and threatens to call the police if she returns. However, much to her sister's consternation, the people-pleasing Margaret allows Melissa a foothold and listens to her pitch, gradually becoming more confused and frightened by what she hears. In order to put Margaret back on track and get the better of the young door-to-door do-gooder, Mary invites her over on a Thursday night and enlists the good Father "to crush her." What follows is a disputation of messianic proportions, with each side getting in their licks, and both sides proving that blind faith in ideology does not necessarily result in depth of belief, comfort, or comprehension.

Smith's script is witty and punchy, expressing sarcasm and heartfelt feelings with equal aplomb. Each of the characters is distinctly defined with a purpose in the conflict of the narrative. Although the play occurs in a moment in time, Smith tries to give us a glimpse into their lives beyond this moment, albeit more successfully with some than others. For instance, the show starts with a ringing telephone and a woman's voice leaving a message on the sisters' answering machine. She is calling from the doctor's office about test results and wants to schedule an appointment. Although she calls again later, the sisters ignore her repeated pleas to call back and we never learn which sister had the test for what possible ailment. Similarly, when Melissa's cell phone (playing the theme from Mission Impossible) intrudes upon the conversation several times, we can only guess at the content and meaning of the one-sided exchanges. Eventually, it is made clear that she is arguing with her boyfriend, the pastor of her church, but little light is shed on what it's all about. What we do learn is that none of the four has a very rich personal life outside of their religious fervor, thus raising the stakes in this battle to save souls and determine the one, true religion.

Carroll and Plum are virtual stage sisters, having worked together in numerous productions throughout their careers in Boston, so they easily make us believe their sibling relationship. Their movements around the set and each other are seamlessly synchronized (including one hysterical tug-of-war on the Barcalounger) and they transmit the love and concern that lies beneath even their most heated disagreements with a simple look or gesture. Give them credit, too, for allowing themselves to be made most plain and unattractive for these roles. Carroll is slightly hunched and maintains a hard scowl on her face throughout, while Plum wears a vacant expression and bilateral hair clips to hold her page boy 'do in place. Playing Mary gives Carroll a chance to showcase her physical comedy skills and she plays it to the hilt. Margaret is more subdued, but Plum uses a forlorn, hangdog look and her vocal talents to bring out her poignant humor.     

Crowe's understated solid performance as Father Murphy humanizes the priest, showing us the man behind the collar. When Mary throws him into the fray without warning, he refuses to pick up the gauntlet until he feels the need to clarify or defend something about the catholic religion. After remonstrating against the evangelist, Crowe smoothly shifts gears to reprove Mary for testing him and manipulating the confrontation. It is his work that grounds the foursome in their absurd situation. At the other end of the spectrum, Charpie does an amazing job of making her missionary cum Energizer bunny both attractive and off putting at the same time. While persistent and self-assured on the one hand, trying desperately to hide her insecurity and vulnerability, she is warm and endearing on the other hand. Melissa could easily come across as cartoonish, but Charpie animates her character with charm, beauty, sass, and a delicious southern drawl. Daigneault has a great find in this newcomer.

Eric Levenson creates a realistic set as visualized by the playwright. Think Archie Bunker's living room, only with crucifixes and books. Daniel H. Jentzen effectively lights the scene, casting shadows of leaves that gradually shift across the back wall as the day wears on. Gail Astrid Buckley clothes the O'Brian sisters and Father Murphy in drab and dowdy outfits, while Melissa's colorful costumes brighten the room and reflect her youthful, extroverted personality. Transitions between scenes are accompanied by tongue-in-cheek musical selections which show off the sound system and Andrew Duncan Will's design.

There would be hell to pay if you laughed this much in church, but there is a sermon tucked away in there to tackle the serious issues of faith, the politics of religion, and personal relationships. One of the distinctions that Smith implies is "belonging to" versus "believing in" a religious denomination. It's not anything that I thought about before, but it certainly raises interesting questions and spurs some soul-searching. I just came up with the slogan for The Savannah Disputation: Theatre that makes you think - even while you're laughing hysterically. 

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