Fire and Rain: The New Play Project

Primal elements themed the latest installment of the New Play Project's series of short plays, adding to fire and rain the fundamental of faith. These were no morality tales, no Sunday school homilies. As good drama should, these amateur productions explored and experimented. Diverse in theme and approach, they once again proved the viability and growing maturity of amateur LDS theater. (See also my review of their last round of plays from July, 2008)

Although the LDS faith of the playwrights and directors in these plays was often apparent, it was more a starting than an ending point. John Milton once said, "The light which we have, was given us, not to be ever staring on, but by it to discover onward things more remote from our knowledge." If the restored gospel of the Latter-day Saints was that light for these artists, then it proved a liberal muse. This was most evident in playwright Katherine Gee's "Based on True-ish Stories" (a flaccid title to a tight play). The lead character, a Catholic about to elope with a Mormon, experiences a series of flashbacks regarding the development and trial of her faith, ultimately leading her to reject her fiancee because she has learned to take more seriously her patchwork faith journey. Atheism, old-school Catholicism, Judaism, various shades of Mormonism, Islam--all were represented by friends and acquaintances whose own tensions with their faiths created not a matrix of cynicism but a fabric of faith. The Muslim character stated it best in recounting part of the Islamic beliefs: "It may just be a story, but you must respect the story." I felt respect in this play for those of whatever faith who "respect the story" of their religions. This is why it worked when at the end the lead character felt that she could not cavalierly marry someone of another faith; respect for faith comes through some kind of fidelity to some kind of religion. In recounting this theme it sounds more relativistic than it came across in the drama. It was not "to each his/her own faith"; it was more about the persistence of people taking faith seriously--or perhaps faith taking people seriously. Director Matthew Greene deftly managed the criss-crossing flashbacks that spanned many years and countries through a choreography of blocking and lighting that was lyrically smooth--the theme kept its coherence despite the whiplash-inducing scene changes. It is the closest approximation of Joycean stream-of-consciousness I have ever seen on the stage. While the play could have been accused of being something of an essay in dramatic form, it remained compelling from start to finish, seasoned with humorous encounters such as one character critiquing another's narrowmindedness on religion, saying, "You can't say, 'That's wrong'--that's wrong!" 

Another play (written by Greene), "Foxgloves" counterpoised a slower pace and only two characters, mother and daughter. The complexity of multiple religions from Gee's play was exchanged for a Southern Baptist mother's simple but profound faith in God evident in her appreciation of the miracle of flowers. Worried about her unbelieving daughter (who lacks the girlish charms of her name, "Annabelle"), she says "The poor girl doesn't have Jesus; she at least needs a mother." This could sound demeaning or patronizing, but it ended up aligning parental with godly love--a mother's persistent faith ultimately thaws, just a little, the daughter's coldness toward belief. Was there any trumpeting of Mormonism here? Not a word. Instead, the suggestion that strong faith is strongly apparent in families and faiths well outside the Zion curtain. I wondered to myself, how well would those strident anti-Mormon sentiments in the South hold up against such sincere appreciation of faiths outside this Mormonism? I hope Baptist playwrights would be half so liberal in conceptualizing Mormon faith.

Swinging toward more LDS-themed religious pieces, Melissa Leilani Larson's "A Burning in the Bosom" featured a row of bored Mormons in church and no dialogue--only a voiceover for a twentysomething woman going through the motions of attendance and wondering (randomly and comically) about things superficial and profound as the meeting drags on. Testing the Mormon commonplace about spiritual confirmations being a "burning of the bosom," she confesses having read the Book of Mormon and attended church and--felt nothing. Then, suddenly, in a moment I compare to what Paul Schrader identified as a transcendent style in the films of certain directors, the prattle in her mind stops, she pauses, looks upward, and a shift in light suggests the arrival of the sought-after religious experience. Sarah Dyer's performance here was wonderful, as she had to shift from a somewhat ditzy-blonde who comedically stares down at her chest in contemplating the bosom part of "burning in the bosom"--but arrestingly becomes sincere in that final moment. And that's how God enters our quotidian lives sometimes. It reminded me of some of George Herbert's poems--like "Redemption"--in which the tense religious reflections of the persona are suddenly quieted by the entrance of God's voice or presence.

If Larson showed Mormons in an everyday setting, veteran LDS playwright Eric Samuelsen went to the opposite extreme in his "Gaia"--a dramatization of Mormon theology regarding premortality. But this was no Saturday's Warrior! Lucifer converses with Gaia, Samuelsen's inventive premortal version of Eve, about problems with "the plan" and its senseless pain and violence. Gaia/Eve (who has served as chief engineer in crafting the earth and evolving life through millennia of collaborative work with Michael and others) is confident and articulate about God's purposes, while Lucifer is not resigned to cardboard villain status. Lucifer is depicted as among God's "inner circle," and Gaia lets slip that Jesus has hinted that Lucifer has a key role to play--a role he must be free to decline but to which he is clearly inclined: the tempter. Lucifer seems gladdened to seem needed, and embraces his future destiny.  Now here's something to upset the non-Mormons: Lucifer in a moment of drama shows a sort of vision to Gaia of God the Father's probationary test from eons past. He was no artist or king, but a slave who died at 20 defending his wife from thugs. What to some would shout blasphemous anthropomorphism becomes in this drama a testing point for Eve's faith. What Lucifer saw as evidence of the unnecessary painfulness of mortal experience, Gaia/Eve interprets as a moment exemplifying the love and courage of the Father. Gaia comes off as intelligent, compassionate, and full of faith--an attractive heroine worthy of taking the role of Eve within mortality (in the spirit of Moses 5:11). When the Mormon imagination gives roles like these to women, those stereotypes of downtrodden Mormon women ring ever more hollow.

"The Time Has Come," by Arisael Rivera, dealt with faith within the context of the issue of pornography, framed through a family staging an intervention for an adult son who needs a reality check about his damaging problem. The verisimilitude rang false immediately--the porn addict seemed ganged up on. Do people ever take such an approach to this problem? I interpreted the setup somewhat allegorically--as though the family represented as a whole all those collateral victims of pornography addiction who are sick of the chronic problem and are ready to stand up and shout, "Stop it!" As an ecclesiastical leader constantly dealing with members of my congregation caught in the snare of this epidemic, I both understand such a sentiment and see the futility of ideas like one character expressed: "You just have to fight harder!" The porn addict in the play stands up to those sincere but unhelpful comments, but his "I'm trying!" seems pathetic. The play tried to come around to an idea that he should have faith that he can stop because God still loves him and believes in him, but that profound truth came across rather flatly as a cliche rather than as an earned belief. The play could have been better, but then, how many plays --LDS or otherwise-- are even trying to deal with this ubiquitous problem? My compliments to the playwright for opening up the conversation, and to the producers for taking a serious issue seriously and within a framework of faith.

I am often disappointed by those who roll their eyes at the paucity of Mormon artistic culture (usually educated Mormons who make generalizations based on vampire novels and sophomoric Mormon cinema). They need to go to the New Play Project and see how young Mormons are taking their own faith--and faith generally--seriously. The post-show discussions show cast, crew, and creative personnel eager for feedback, perfecting their craft, and proving to their audiences that an evening can be spent in a thoughtful, substantive experience in religious art. (The current series runs at the Provo Theater Company through October 20, 2008)

Comments

[Kazzy]

It was interesting to me that in one or two of the plays I was less interested at the end, and in one or two others I became more invested as they went on. I am impressed at the maturity of all those involved. They seem very committed to what they are trying to do, and the post-play discussions are terrific. I am still going with "Foxgloves" as my fave. Hey, I am kind of a southerner!

[Candy]

Thanks for writing a review. I was sad I missed it. I'll catch the next one. Are they posting video anywhere that you know of?

[Ben Crowder]

Yes, I'll be posting videos online at newplayproject.org in the relatively near future. (The site is in the middle of a redesign as well; it'll be very clear where the videos are on the new one.)