In John Pielmeier’s 1979 drama “Agnes of God,” now playing at Redtwist Theatre, faith collides with reason and past abuses haunt the present when a young Catholic nun is investigated after the death of her newborn baby. Directed by Clare Brennan, this compelling revival is part whodunit and part psychological thriller, with a dash of philosophical discourse that never detracts from the painful human drama at its center.
After its premiere at the Eugene O’Neill Theater Center, the play went on to Broadway, a national tour and several international productions before being adapted into a 1985 film starring Jane Fonda. Pielmeier based the script on the 1977 trial of a nun in upstate New York, who was charged with manslaughter and criminally negligent homicide after her baby was suffocated.
In the fictional version of events, Sister Agnes (Soleil Pérez) is 21 years old when she secretly delivers a child in her bedroom at the convent. A gentle soul with a simple mind and an angelic singing voice, Agnes was taken in by Mother Superior Miriam Ruth (Debra Rodkin) after she was orphaned at the age of 17. When the infant’s body is discovered and Agnes is arrested, the court orders a psychiatric evaluation of the young woman by Dr. Martha Livingstone (Jacqueline Grandt).
Pérez is mesmerizing as Agnes; wide-eyed, eager to please and shockingly innocent of the ways of the world, the nun claims not to remember giving birth or even understand the mechanics of reproduction. During her sessions with Dr. Livingstone, it becomes clear that she was severely abused by her late mother, who terrorizes her from beyond the grave through visions that leave Agnes struggling to comprehend what is real or not.
Rodkin and Grandt play off each other well as Mother Miriam and Dr. Livingstone, who clash over how to best care for Agnes and how to get to the truth of this unsettling case. Justifiably bitter at the Catholic Church after past traumas, the atheistic Dr. Livingstone considers the mind to be her religion. Miriam, though levelheaded about the disenchanted modern world in which she lives, unsurprisingly is more inclined to entertain the possibility of supernatural causes behind the strange events. Their witty sparring includes some memorable one-liners. “I’m not from the Inquisition,” says Dr. Livingstone early on; Miriam retorts, “And I’m not from the Middle Ages.”
Mother-child troubles come up not only for Agnes, but for all three characters. Dr. Livingstone recalls many arguments with her mother over matters of religion, her choice of romantic partners, etc. In the first act, Miriam reveals that she was a wife and mother before taking her vows, but is now estranged from her children. In addition, she drops a bombshell revelation about Agnes’s family that shakes up Dr. Livingstone’s understanding of the case. Rather than laying all the blame at the feet of religion, as this play easily could, it also makes the point that families are messy, and trauma is often cyclical.
Of course, mental health is another key theme. Pérez’s performance is heartbreaking as Dr. Livingstone gradually earns Agnes’ trust and convinces her to undergo hypnosis. The descriptions of her past abuse — verbal, physical, sexual and spiritual — are quite graphic, and there is also a disturbing discussion of disordered eating. This is a difficult play in many ways, and this cast does not shy away from the dark subject matter.
Brennan’s intense staging is enhanced by Rose Johnson’s set design, which occupies a long, narrow stage between two rows of seats that accommodate about 26 audience members. With dim lighting (by Sam Anderson) and sacred vocal music playing before the show, entering the venue feels like being a chorister in a small chapel. At either end of the stage is a church pew backed by patterned screens that stand at a diagonal angle. Dr. Livingstone’s desk also has an extreme tilt, giving the sense that things are off-kilter in this ostensibly holy place.
For a woman as troubled as Agnes, the judicial system in which she finds herself caught up offers little optimism for the future. Although Miriam and Dr. Livingstone both try to help her, they understand that prison or a mental institution are the most likely outcomes, with dim hope for a full acquittal. Agnes thus embodies the Lamb of God (in Latin, Agnus Dei) from which the play takes its name — sacrificed on the altar of the people and institutions in her life who should have protected her. But here, it’s an open question whether the sacrifice will bring redemption to anyone.
Emily McClanathan is a freelance critic.
Review: “Agnes of God” (3.5 stars)
When: Through July 9
Where: Redtwist Theatre, 1044 W. Bryn Mawr Ave.
Running time: 2 hours
Tickets: $25 (pay-what-you-can on Fridays) at RedtwistTheatre.org
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