Austinist Reviews: An Almost Holy Picture
Why does a production company in general, or a director in particular, choose a difficult script? Is it the challenge? The thrill of potentially succeeding where others have failed? Certainly an easy script can be dull to work with, especially if it's something that's been done to death, such as many of the straightforward, heartwarming, popular theatre pieces that make up so much of community theatre fare. We mulled over this question while we recently took in An Almost Holy Picture at Zach Scott Theatre, whose production history includes both challenging, cutting edge works and easier, mainstream blockbusters. In many ways, An Almost Holy Picture splits this difference.
When the show made its New York debut five years ago, Heather McDonald's script wasn't well received, though the production generally was. And now, here in Austin, we once again have an outstanding production of what remains a frustrating, seemingly incomplete work. The acting—Jamie Goodwin's portrayal of the immensely likable Samuel Gentle—is warm and compelling. A rather ugly and incongruous chandelier notwithstanding, Michael Raiford's set is functional and appealing. Robert Faires' direction makes the most of the piece's beautiful language, and plays the action to maximum effect on Zach's Whisenhut Arena Stage. Yet these elements are able to only partially overcome what is, in the end, an unsatisfying story.
Things kick off with plenty of promise. In the first act, Jamie Goodwin had us eating from the palm of his hand with his sensitive, thoughtful performance. The play's only character, Samuel Gentle, describes three experiences that have "shaped his personal idea of God." As a child, on a walk with his father, Gentle hears the voice of God saying, "Follow me." Years later, serving in outback New Mexico as an Episcopalian priest, he witnesses and feels responsible for a schoolbus crash that kills nine of his parishioners, all of them children. The language used to describe these experiences is rich and moving, and Gentle's characterizations of their attendant characters is fully realized.
Years later, after leaving the church (and yet landing in the bishop's garden, as its caretaker), Gentle's daughter Ariel is born, and everything comes to a point. Inflicted with a rare, genetically inherited disorder ("Idiopathic hirsutism is usually hereditary," says Gentle), Ariel is covered from head to toe with a light, downy fur. This is Gentle's final God experience, and while it holds promise for more to come in the second, act, ultimately it fails to deliver. McDonald creates a moment that doesn't ring true—a father/daughter disagreement that isn't in line with the rest of Gentle's character—and as a dramatic device it is too shallow to render an emotional response from the audience.
Still, there's plenty to like about this sometimes ponderous, often touching production. Goodwin is a pro, and he takes command of the stage and your attention from the moment the lights come up. It's a real pleasure to watch him work. For example, his re-enactment of an early moment with the newborn Arial, singing "Let Me Call You Sweetheart" and rocking her in his arms, nearly moved us to tears. We also enjoyed the lively descriptions of Gentle's time in New Mexico, in particular when describing a local woman's untraditional approach to prayer. Asserting that "Prayer is giving God your full attention," she routinely shouts belligerent curses at God. When Gentle steps into her character, the wise twinkle in her eye shines directly through.
Furthermore, Robert Faires directs Goodwin to handle the more difficult language in the script with deliberate care. At times the play feels like an extended sermon, with messages such as, "If God is testing us, he must know most of us are failing the test," and "Grace enters the soul by a wound." Some sermons work, and others are clunkers. On the main, the lessons of this piece fall on listening ears, in no small part due to Faires' careful direction.
Nevertheless, halfway through the second act we found our minds wandering and our anticipation of some kind of denouement flattened. Inexplicably nominated for numerous awards, a Pulitzer nod among them, this spiritually intellectual work is on one hand a bit of food for the soul, but on the other hand a muddled, confusing story. Gentle repeatedly says, "I'll give you the images I know," as though there are plenty of images he doesn't know, and yet suspects, but can't impart. We wanted the whole story, and were ultimately frustrated to feel that we weren't getting it. Our partner suggested that perhaps that's the point—that there is no clear answer, and when seeking answers to questions about grace and God, pain and joy, life and death, one can't ever come to any definitive conclusions.
We can't help but wonder whether it's possible to handle these topics in a way that's somehow more accessible and satisfying, but when all is said and done, the top-notch acting and thoughtful direction make this a play worth seeing, particularly for someone in the mood for a little existential mindbending.
Photo by Kirk Tuck.
An Almost Holy Picture
Through August 26
Th/Fr/Sa at 8 pm, Su at 2:30
Zachary Scott Theatre [Map]
[Tickets]
