Second to Nun

Agnes of God

Written by John Pielmeier

Directed by Laith Zawawi

At the Adams House Kronauer Space

Through this weekend

THE Adams production of Agnes of God is as emotional and moving an exploration of the place of religion and sainthood in modern society as one could wish to see. The difficult and often heart-wrenching questions of what constitutes true blessedness and of the appropriateness of such a state of grace in the 20th century are discussed and disected with a rhetorical grace and lack of dogmatic insistence that makes the work a constant joy to witness.

Added to this charm of style is a story that remains consistently riveting. The convoluted efforts of the psychiatrist Martha Livingstone and Mother Miriam Ruth to discover the truth behind the young nun Agnes' strangled baby have all the fascination of a beautifully morbid detective story. Sex and murder, after all, are seldom dull.

Setting aside the unquestionable excellence of the play itself, Agnes of God is further blessed in having a sensitive, if occasionally melodramatic cast. Lisa Langford is is both clever and witty as Dr. Livingstone, the psychiatrist assigned to Agnes' case and probably one of the more endearing chainsmokers ever to grace the stage. She becomes the one reliable narrator in the play, a paragon of humor and good sense in an otherwise unrelievedly gothic atmosphere of religious excess. Her exploration of Agnes' past and her search for an alternate ending becomes that of the audience. She is reality personified, confronting and dissecting the ideal.

Similarily, Andra Gordon does a marvelous job as the ambiguously innocent Agnes. She treads the narrow line between insanity and sainthood with all the fey grace that could be desired. As she floats across the stage, she resembles nothing so much as an unnaturally ethereal pre-Raphaelite saint, with her haze of red hair and huge desperate eyes. Her feet scarcely seem to touch the ground. She appears moored to the earth by only the most fragile of bonds, ready at the slightest inclination to cast off her moorings and soar off the stage. It is perhaps fortunate for all concerned that her costume is as heavy as it is.

Finally, Christina Keily is more than suitably abrasive as the tortured Mother Miriam Ruth. Indeed, it is perhaps unfortunate that she chooses to be quite so tense throughout the entire play. Subdued histrionics are difficult to sustain at the best of times. Fortunately for all, she occasionally drops the tortured smile. Her discussion with Langford of the possible smoking habits of the saints is an oasis of subdued humor in the otherwise shrill uniformity of her portrayal.

Agnes of God is a worthy and gripping play. It manages to be moving without being trite, witty without being overly jovial and intelligent without being intellectually oppressive. If occasionally it falters, it is through an excess of ambition rather than a lack of effort and skill. It is to be commended.