How is our prayer going to stop the next senseless shooting?
How. Is our prayer. Going to stop the next senseless shooting?
It’s not a typo or a mistake that the question has been repeated. I ask it again because it is an unanswered question that continues to haunt millions of Americans each and every day. And while using a stage, a play, a performance, or a theatrical experience as a profound echo chamber for the real message that needs to be heard may not amount to much, if even one person leaves Silver Spring Stage after absorbing their current production of Jason Odell Williams’ Church & State with just the slightest inkling to let their actions speak for all those moments of “silence out of respect for the grieving families” or all of those “thoughts and prayers” then theatre is certainly serving its purpose in Montgomery County, mere minutes from the nation’s capital. Directed by Jen Katz, this evocative and gripping, deeply moving and oddly humorous play is the message that divided America needs to hear right now. We were a nation founded with the intention of keeping a clear separation between church and state in our government.
The set may not look like much, in fact when you read the program that indicates the play takes place in Present Day, Raleigh, North Carolina…in a small greenroom backstage at NC State’s Stewart Theatre, many of us theatrically inclined folk will be wondering exactly who designed said greenroom because it doesn’t look anything like any greenroom we’ve ever seen. (The Set Design Credit is split between Director Jen Katz and Steve Leshin and augmented by Set Decorator Jessica Casiano.) But honestly, the scenery— minimalist and tasteful though it is— is irrelevant. The words and message and general rise and fall of action in Jason Odell Williams’ script is so powerful, and in such capably talented hands with the five performers at Silver Spring Stage, the play space itself could be barren and you wouldn’t mind. If there’s a hiccup with the production (aside from placing an unnecessary intermission into the script) it’s the quality of the sound from the video clips that are used to augment the opening and closing scenes. That aside, it’s practically a flawless production.
Jason Odell Williams’ work is nothing short of riveting. The balance that Williams strikes between comedy and severity, particularly given the heady subject matter of school shootings and unchecked gun-control and religion infiltrating government in the United States, is astonishing. The writing is both poignant and convivial. All too often when a playwright takes to putting an issue or ‘hot-button’ topic into their work, the text smacks hard and heavy without cadence or flow, feeling forced and pedantic. Williams’ work, particularly the dialogue exchanges between the Senator and his wife and the Senator and his campaign manager feel as if they were captured in live-time from an actual conversation. Williams’ mastery with words, especially in the ‘speeches’ leaves one wishing that he might write actual speeches to be heard before congress in addition to his brilliant playwrighting. There’s also a natural build— with a blindsiding gut-punch— to Williams’ narrative, which leaves the audience gutted, stunned, and oddly hopeful in spite of the events. It’s a remarkable piece of theatre, that despite written for/in 2017 feels hyper-realistic here in 2024, as if it could be referencing the current upcoming elections, but not in a soapbox-preaching fashion.
Director Jen Katz has a superb production on her hands. (We’ll give a pass of forgiveness to the unnecessary intermission— dramatist play services seems to indicate that it is written without one, though at the community theatre level its often necessary if for no other reason than to attempt to sell concessions.) The pacing is sublime. The way Katz guides her cast of five to move through those rapid-pace dialogue exchanges is stunning. While Williams’ script may specifically indicate that much of the dialogue exchange is done over top of itself— not unlike real life arguments, discourse, and discussions— Katz handles the overall execution of these moments with her cast almost flawlessly. You can’t catch every word, but you hear most of what they’re arguing when the various characters are speaking over one another. Katz also displays a keen understanding of the unique staging challenges that come with Silver Spring Stages’ play space. There’s also a balance of emotions well in hand for this performance, particularly when it comes to finding the more humorous moments against the deeply intense ones loaded with pathos and gravity. A shoutout to Dialect Coach Gary Sullivan is also in order as the two southern-sounding characters land fluidly on the ear without feeling like a caricature-representation of the southern accent or any trouble of understanding.
While John Elmendorf gets to double-up as the wordless Security Guard, making several humorous near-silent gestures and expressions with his body language, the meat of his moments on stage come when he is playing Marshall, the journalist who serves as the catalystic powder keg for the series of events which the audience arrives in the middle of at the top of the show. Elmendorf is grounded, needling at the Senator character in live-time, which given the way Katz has chosen to stage and block that scene is incredibly effective. Kurt Elliot III, in the role of Tom, serves as minor comic relief and tension buffer to the main trio of performers in this play and his generally convivial nature is much appreciated, particularly when he ‘accidents’ his way back into scenes.
The strongest structure in— in this is instance, politics— is the pyramid. Or the tripod, the three-legged entity, however you want to phrase it, and for Church & State that tripod is composed of The Senator Charles Whitmore (Hart Wood), his borderline trad-wife Sara Whitmore (Juanisha Brooks), and from-the-north-presumed-lesbian-democrat-Jewish campaign manager Alex Klein (Whitney Johnson.) These three entities carry the plot forward in equal parts, often with Wood’s Senator taking point on the charge, but watching them interact, bristle and burble against one another, buckle and collapse, is truly a theatrically engaging experience that you won’t want to miss.
At first, Brooks’ seemingly simplistic approach to the character feels almost saccharine and borders very quickly on becoming not only flat but annoying. She’s got a sluggish cadence to her delivery, which adds a layer of myopic viewpoint to her character and some of the things coming out of her character’s mouth would make you bust a gut with laughter for how ridiculous and absurd they are if it wasn’t for the fact that you understand her character truly believes them and feels that way. When she goes off on her tirade about faith and prayer, helplessness, etc., you’re almost completely ready to write her off. But the back-end of the production, in a rare momentary confession to the Alex character is gobsmacking and strong. And what happens thereafter, when the real Sara Whitmore is given light (both metaphorically and when she’s standing in front of the yea-nay vote count projection, compliments of Lighting Designer Don Slater) you find yourself in utter awe of Brooks’ capability to carry both characters so dynamically in one portrayal. Brooks’ also deserves a nod of praise for her ‘drunk shenanigans’ in the second act. All too often an actor attempting to play drunk falls into the trappings of wobbling around the slurring speech, but with Brooks it’s a much cleaner and intentional series of choices so that you still know she’s drunk but without feeling like she’s overdoing it or being trite about it.
Whitney Johnson’s spastic little bundle of nervousness is praiseworthy when she shoves it out the front of Alex Klein’s mouth or her overly jittery body language. Anyone in the audience who has ever been put in charge of a very important project— be it political, theatrical, work-related or otherwise— can not only relate but see themselves entirely in Johnson’s portrayal as she fights the relentless urge to meltdown and smack somebody as the situation starts spiraling out of control. There is a vibrant modernity to Johnson’s Alex, which juxtaposes effortlessly and perfectly against the more back-asswards southern charmed nature being presented in Brooks’ Sara Whitmore. While the pair initially don’t get along, their interactions are some of the more humorous in the production and both hold their ground equally well in confrontational scenes with The Senator.
Hart Wood is captivating. Simply striking in his eloquent awareness of his presence on the stage, his perceptive understanding of how and where emotions land when he’s speaking, and ultimately of how his character portrayal is perceived. There is equal parts passion, confusion, doubt, and determination happening inside his mind, flowing out through his gestures, his facial expressions, and his words at all times. It’s truly riveting to watch this man work in the character of Senator Charles Whitmore. It’s difficult to find accurate words to describe how realistic and authentic he feels because it’s just such a moving experience to watch Wood in this role. There is a truly harrowing moment when Wood’s character starts talking about ‘when it finally hit him’ and the haunting revelation that the world expects you can be smart or emotional but not both; you find yourself on the edge of your seat, hanging on his every word. And when you finally get to hear the blazing passion of his ‘viral speech’ (which gets placed much later in the performance than one might expect, and after a blind-siding shocker that come hurtling in at 200 miles per hour from left field) it’s not only inspiring but it’s spine-tingling.
Faith. Family. And Football. The three F’s that matter to the constituency of Senator Charles Whitmore. Fascinating. Ferocious. Freeing. The three F’s (and many more, come to think on it) that apply to fabulous production of Church & State at Silver Spring Stage. It’s a compelling piece, begging and screaming for change, and not a single person in this country wouldn’t benefit from seeing it.
Running Time: Approximately 90 minutes including one intermission
Church & State plays through September 29th 2024 at Silver Spring Stage— 10145 Colesville Rd, Silver Spring, MD 20901. Tickets are available by calling the box office at 301-593-6036 or by purchasing them in advance online.
