Broadway ‘Doubt’ review: Amy Ryan and Liev Schreiber revive the modern classic

Time has tipped the scales a bit on the “did he or didn’t he” question at the heart of John Patrick Shanley’s 2004 Pulitzer Prize-winning play? Doubt: proverb, opening tonight in the Roundabout Theater Company’s revival at the Todd Haimes Theater. Since the play about a possibly child-molesting priest debuted off-Broadway twenty years ago, real-world events and ugly truths have diminished its shock value and the likelihood that audiences will side with the man in black.

In short, “Yes, he did it” is the audience’s most likely reaction when the powerful Sister Aloysius begins to suspect, on flimsy evidence, that the charming and likeable Father Flynn has been abusing the altar boy. Our tendency to side directly with the cruel, suspicious nun could turn the entire premise of Shanley’s play, which is ultimately titled, on its head. doubtno certainty.

That the play holds up the way it does—and it does—is due in large part to the first-rate cast that Roundabout Theater Company has assembled, an ensemble that keeps us guessing from beginning to end. As most audiences know, Amy Ryan was a last-minute fill-in for the ailing Tyne Daly, and she takes on the role (and the stage) as if she’s been preparing for months. Her performance shows no sign of eleventh-hour jitters.

Ryan, of course, plays Sister Aloysius, the strict, no-nonsense principal of a Catholic elementary school in the Bronx in 1964. Her philosophy of education is simple: Keep them afraid, keep them in line, and keep them safe until they graduate. .

Sister Aloysius shares this outlook in the play’s opening scene with the younger and more generous-spirited Sister James (Zoe Kazan). But what initially appears to be the senior nun’s surveillance of the younger nun soon proves to involve something far more sinister: Sister Aloysius suspects that Father Flynn (Liev Schreiber), who has just arrived at the parish, has been targeting — what we now call grooming — another newcomer. To school, a 12-year-old boy who happens to be the first black student in the parish.

So adept at sharing hints that she soon convinces the gullible Sister James (well, more or less), Sister Aloysius soon confronts the priest (among his sins: taking sugar in his tea, and keeping his nails uncut). He denies it. But of course she knew – and we knew – that he would do it.

We also meet the black student’s mother (Quincy Tyler Bernstein), whose response to Sister Aloysius’s suggestions remains the play’s most shocking moment. No spoilers (in case you haven’t seen the original or modest 2008 film starring Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Amy Adams, and Viola Davis) except to note that the mother’s response raises issues of race that neither Sister Aloysius nor the audience might see coming.

Under the sure direction of Scott Ellis, the cast is unwavering in their convictions – we believe they believe every word they say. If Father Flynn is lying — he’s the only character who has a reason to be — then Schreiber isn’t, which is a real accomplishment given that he’s not only doing battle against a cruel nun, but also several decades of headlines and heightened public awareness of the church’s atrocities. .

Kazan holds her own against the wonderful lead cast, bringing vivid and compelling pain to Sister James, a character tormented by the condition that gives the play its title.

As Mrs. Muller, the mother of the student we never see, Bernstein makes the unlikely transformation seem plausible, even inevitable. Sitting across from Ryan’s sister Aloysius’s office—David Rockwell’s detail-perfect master office, exquisitely lit by Kenneth Posner with morning and afternoon sun filtering through the windows—Bernstein’s Ms. Mueller sits across from Ryan’s sister’s office—suitable for anyone. If she has doubts of her own, she knows not to let them get to her.

Title: Doubt: proverb
place: Todd Himes Theater on Broadway
written by: John Patrick Shanley
Directed by: Scott Ellis
ejaculate: Amy Ryan, Liev Schreiber, Zoe Kazan, Quincy Tyler Bernstein
Running time: 90 minutes (no break)