Review: A Gripping, Thought-Provoking & Highly Entertaining INHERIT THE WIND at the Asolo Repertory Theatre

“A mind is like a parachute.  It doesn’t work if it’s not open.” --Attributed to Frank Zappa (paraphrasing Evan Esar’s 1949 quote)

“We would be 1,500 years ahead if it hadn’t been for the church dragging science back by its coattails and burning our best minds at the stake.” --Catherine Fahringer, The Freedom from Religion Foundation

“Can't you understand? That if you take a law like evolution and you make it a crime to teach it in the public schools, tomorrow you can make it a crime to teach it in the private schools? And tomorrow you may make it a crime to read about it. And soon you may ban books and newspapers. And then you may turn Catholic against Protestant, and Protestant against Protestant, and try to foist your own religion upon the mind of man. If you can do one, you can do the other. Because fanaticism and ignorance is forever busy, and needs feeding. And soon, your Honor, with banners flying and with drums beating we'll be marching backward, BACKWARD, through the glorious ages of that Sixteenth Century when bigots burned the man who dared bring enlightenment and intelligence to the human mind.” --Henry Drummond in INHERIT THE WIND

An empty stage. The cast, donned in period costumes, assemble onstage and stand facing the audience, singing the boisterous Will L. Thompson spiritual, “There’s a Great Day Coming.”  It’s a rousing number, and suddenly the scenery appears, facades of buildings and even a church are lowered onto the stage, and large streetlamps are raised by the actors.  The show then takes off from there and never stops; we know we’re in store for something incredibly special.  

Two hours and fifteen minutes later, Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee’s INHERIT THE WIND, the gripping, tense, highly entertaining courtroom drama based on the 1925 Scopes Monkey Trial and currently playing at the Asolo Rep, leaves you catching your breath.

It’s a show that is both timeless and timely.  When I first heard that the prestigious Asolo was tackling it and tackling it this year and in this state, I thought: Should we consider it an act of bravery on the Asolo’s part that they’re putting on a classic about education under fire by rabid evangelicals, in Florida, where an unnecessary war on education seems to be stronger than ever these days?  The show’s visionary director, who is also the Asolo’s new Producing Artistic Director, Peter Rothstein, certainly thinks so. “This classic American drama premiered in 1955, but it could have been written this year,” he mentions in the show’s program.  “It’s incredibly relevant right now.  We’re seeing this debate around censorship and banned books in the news practically every day in Florida.  We’re wrestling with big questions around what can be taught in schools and who gets to decide.  Should we look to educators, parents, or politicians to make those choices?”

While watching the play, where a Tennessee school teacher, Bertram Cates, is put on trial for teaching evolution (which was against the law in the state in 1925), I, also a teacher, think back to the past few years in our beloved “Sunshine State." With the “Don’t Say Gay” bill, the banning of books, the barring of the teaching of CRT (Critical Race Theory), and the government purge of New College (which incidentally is not far from the Asolo), public education seems to always be on trial. 

Fueled by both politics and religion, subjects like evolution (as well as race, sexuality and women’s rights) provide popular red meat for an angry electorate looking for  issues to attack for whatever reasons serve them best.  It was that way in 1925, and it’s sadly still that way.  It's a clash of opposing forces that still rears its head: Religion versus science.  Faith versus knowledge.  Superstition versus fact.   

What’s at the center of this “Monkey Trial” is more than evolution; it’s the freedom of “the individual human mind” that’s being prosecuted, as Cates’ defense attorney, Henry Drummond, puts it.  “In a child’s power to master the multiplication table there is more sanctity than in all your shouted ‘Amens!,’ ‘Holy, Holies!’ and ‘Hosannahs!’ An idea is a greater monument than a cathedral. And the advance of man’s knowledge is more of a miracle than any sticks turned to snakes, or the parting of waters!”

INHERIT THE WIND, aside from its famed courtroom scenes,  is also a character study, where two renowned giants square off in a battle of the ages.  It’s an Ali-Frazier-like match, God versus Darwin, where the combatants spar not with punches but with ideas, differing viewpoints about the world’s origins.  On the prosecution’s side: Nebraska’s Matthew Harrison Brady, based on politician William Jennings Bryan; and on defense: Henry Drummond of Chicago, based on Clarence Darrow, perhaps the most famous American lawyer of the time.  It’s these two older characters, with very different worldviews and very different personalities, that form the center of the play.     

The part of Matthew Harrison Brady must be more than just a loud Creationist blowhard; he goes beyond the larger than life Trumpian populist who uses the pulpit to air grievances and spew hate and fear in the name of religion. Apart from his Mt. Everest-sized ego, he’s a charismatic public servant, past his prime, whose supreme confidence masks a hidden fear of ordinariness (like the “unwashed masses” he preaches to) and of being forgotten.  He likes being coddled and worshipped by his many smalltown fans.  He uses religion not to save souls but to save himself from inevitable obscurity.  (“If St. George had killed a dragonfly instead of a dragon, who would remember him?” he asks at one point.) Dressed head to toe in Col. Sanders white, he wants nothing more than to be adored by the public, his public. And for my money, you can’t find a better Brady than Andrew Long. 

What Mr. Long does here I once thought impossible: He makes us pity Matthew Harrison Brady. After so much Brady bluster and closed-minded rants, there are two moments when he actually breaks our hearts.  One occurs when he stops a preacher from going too far in pontificating hatred, and the second occurs when, after being ridiculed and torn apart on the witness stand, he weeps like a child as his wife cradles his head and he realizes he’s not the man he used to be.  It’s such a real moment, the fall of a Goliath. 

Mr. Long gives us an epic performance, volcanic, almost Shakespearean in scope where we see a once-great king toppled by his own hubris. 

If Act 1 belongs to Matthew Harrison Brady, then Act 2 is all Henry Drummond.  And Mark Benninghofen more than holds his own, eye to eye and soul to soul, with Mr. Long’s Brady.  Two very different acting styles ram head on, and we in the audience know how fortunate we are to witness the characters’ conflict in action.  Mr. Benninghofen’s charismatic and personable Drummond comes across rumpled and relaxed, unsteadily walking almost hunchbacked, seemingly drunk with the truth. And he’s mesmerizing.  We can’t take our eyes off of him, and he gets well-earned laughs with a simple turn of phrase or gesture. It’s one of those inspiring performances that audiences won’t soon forget.

Sasha Andreev as the cynical Baltimore reporter, E.K. Hornbeck, is not just a dynamo, he’s a meta-uber-extra-dynamo, jolting the stage to life whenever he appears.  But sometimes, likely by design, he teeters on caricature rather than character, always posing instead of just standing, a smart-alecky, mustachioed  cartoon who speaks in barbed soundbites and cheeky phrases. Even the mere eating of an apple comes across creepy and forced, and when he’s onstage with sweet Rachel Brown, he takes one bite of the said apple and suddenly he’s the serpent tempting Eve. 

Based on real-life journalist H.L. Mencken, the part of Hornbeck is like a one-man Greek Chorus, and Mr. Andreev turns him into a smarmy, slimily slick snake oil salesman; a more rancid representation of the media  you will not likely find.  Imagine the worst of Tucker Carlson mixed with fast-talking William Lee Tracy. (Mr. Andreev’s wisecracker  would fit perfectly in a restaging of The Front Page, which takes place in the same decade as INHERIT THE WIND.)  He drips insincerity. Entertaining and vibrant as he is, Mr. Andreev’s Hornbeck sometimes comes too close to becoming a smiley-faced Batman villain, so much so that you keep waiting for him to utter the phrase, “Riddle me this!”

You have the searingly brilliant Drummond on one side; the bombastic Brady on the other; and in the middle you find the irreverent cynic Hornbeck.  So where does that leave us, John and Joan Q. Public ?  This is where the always terrific David Breitbarth becomes so necessary to the show.  As the Judge bound by the law, he gives a glimpse of a sort of smalltown justice  trying to do what he thinks is the right thing.  There’s a look he gives Brady after sustaining the defense’s objection  that tells us, “What else can I do?”  And Mr. Breitbarth is so natural, so easygoing and real onstage, that he becomes less of an umpire and more of an Everyman. 

Curtis Bannister seethes venom and fear as Reverend Jeremiah Brown, and his hell-fire-damnation sermon at the end of Act 1 rattles your soul.  He starts slowly then, illuminated by a sort of heavenly glow (exquisite lighting design by Philip Rosenberg), rises to a feverish pitch.  Scary stuff. He also boasts an incredible singing voice, as showcased in a musical revival at the top of Act 2. 

As Bertram Cates, Mikhail Roberts isn’t some meek defendant (like a pre-Bewitched Dick York in the movie version); he comes across quite sturdy, resembling a bespectacled Dean Cain as Clark Kent.  Briella Rivera Headrington stands out as Cates’ timid and scared love interest, Rachel Brown.  Danny Bolero has his moments as Meeker, and Sally Wingert (so good as Mrs. Lovett in the Asolo’s Sweeney Todd several years back) makes the most of the thankless role of Brady’s long-suffering wife.  

Two talented children, Finn MacBeth (from Booker Middle School) and Jeliyah Campbell,  have such a natural rapport, an ease and professionalism onstage that is rare in actors so young. The denizens of Hillsboro, Tennessee,  include such luminous performers as Trezure B. Coles, Jay Lusteck, Rebecca Rose Mims, Sharon Pearlman, Jackson Purdy, Falcian Page, guitarist Ryan Schmidt, Brooke Turner, Daniella Vivcharenka, Reuben Wakefield, and Rickey Allen Watson, Jr., all of whom add so much pizzazz to the stage.  They are more than an ensemble; with their stirring voices and glorious harmonies, they become the heart and soul of the show.

This is one production where everything goes right.  Fabian Aguilar’s costumes are appropriate for the time period, and Kate Sutton Johnson’s scenic design works wonders.  There's even a scene-stealing monkey puppet to contend with.  And then there's the music, including the Act 2 revival that will have you tapping your feet, that seems as important as the playwrights' words.  Special mention must be paid to Music Director Jenny Kim-Godfrey and Music Supervisor Jonathan Godfrey, who get some superb vocal work from their cast as they belt ol’ time religious songs.  

But the man at the helm, director Peter Rothstein, deserves the most hosannas here. This is one  gorgeous production that he has led with heart, intelligence and gusto. Handsomely mounted, ingeniously staged, and beautifully paced.

INHERIT THE WIND is one of those shows that you want to talk about afterwards, to intensely share with your friends.  You want people who maybe disagree with you to see it so you both can have one of those deep post-show discussions over dinner and a drink. And no matter what your position on Evolution or Creationism or Education is, no matter your beliefs on whether the world began with a Big God or a Big Bang, it’s an important conversation to launch, to graciously listen, to help understand each side,  and to ultimately bridge the gaps in a country so sadly divided. It starts here, it starts now.

INHERIT THE WIND at the Asolo Rep runs thru February 24th.

Photo Credit: Sorcha Augustine Photography and Frank Atura

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