Whether you are believer, agnostic or atheist, you can’t deny that religion has given us some great stories. From Noah’s boat trip to The Mahabharata to The Da Vinci Code, there’s plenty of drama and suspense in the way humans grapple with good and evil, body and spirit, heaven and hell. So it’s no surprise that John Pielmeier’s Agnes of God should have its share of dramatic moments.
When it premiered on Broadway in 1982, we’d yet to discover the Catholic Church’s pedophile scandals, and talking-head screeds by atheism advocates such as Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens weren’t standard TV fare. But matters of faith and the mysteries of the Catholic Church were still on Americans’ minds. And Pielmeier’s play—which opened this weekend in a terrific production by Renaissance Theaterworks—manipulates those questions like savvy script of a great film noir.
The story is narrated by a chain-smoking psychiatrist (Laura Gordon), who has been called in on a murder case. A young nun, Agnes (Rana Roman), has been found in her cloistered convent room with a dead newborn, and she claims to have no memory of giving birth. The Mother Superior (Flora Coker) is protective of Agnes, believing her to be a kind of “holy innocent,” and wants to keep her at the convent.
From there, the plot—as they say—thickens. We learn more about the Agnes incident, but we also learn the back stories of each character, and what makes it particularly interesting that each of them should be embroiled in this story.
As you might guess, the play offers three great opportunities for actors who are willing to ride the rollercoaster of Pielmeier’s script. The psychiatrist is a cool professional, but lowers her guard when she speaks to the audience, and Gordon is deft at exposing her character’s vulnerable, damaged side. Coker gives her Mother Superior a blend of confident authority and deep compassion, which allows her to explore her characters own conflicts. As Agnes, Rana Roman is a study in Zen-like emptiness and compliance, and her radiant voice—she’s heard singing hymns and chants throughout the play—helps create a figure that is indeed not of this world. It’s all wonderfully orchestrated by director Susan Fete, who manipulates the pace and intensity of the scenes with sensitivity and great dramatic savvy.
