The metaphor of Jesus as a struggling artist
Other Jesus (out of 4) Written by Evan Webber. Directed by Frank Cox-O’Connell. Until May 14 at St. Matthew’s United Church, 729 St. Clair Ave. W. PublicRecordings.org
The optics of Other Jesus, a new theatre production by experimental artistic collective Public Recordings Performance Projects, are unexpected and quite stunning.
Whereas most indie productions use intimate (read, small) spaces to their advantage, Other Jesus is conveniently located inside a towering church on St. Clair Ave. W.
The audience, seated in raked pews at the back of the room, gets prime viewing of the full space as the stage — painted a pristine white — sits atop the middle section of pews.
At first, a vertical wall blocks our view of the pulpit beyond the stage; the actors take its place. But over the course of Evan Webber’s new play partly inspired by the life of Jesus Christ, walls come down, the actors range beyond the small wooden platform (to the far corners and new heights), making the space their own, but the play closes with the main character, Jesus, as close to the audience as possible, alone under a spotlight.
His world has shrunk again, turning St. Matthew’s United Church cavernous and empty once more.
Kudos to the design team in Other Jesus, Sherri Hay on set and Ken MacKenzie on lighting, for rising to this ambitious occasion; the use of the space in Frank CoxO’Connell’s production channels the rise and fall of the characters within it.
Jesus (Ishan Davé) is a young preacher with an ill father and a family of little means, joined by his partner Mary (Liz Peterson), who has a reserve of cash set aside by her parents for grad school. This distinction becomes crucial from the beginning, since the magistrate Blondie (Courtney Ch’ng Lancaster) has fined them for selling boxes in the marketplace.
But after Jesus apparently performs a miracle and saves the life of Ellen (William Ellis), Blondie forgives the fee and instead invites Jesus and his followers to take up a residence in the temple (this is the moment where the wall comes down to reveal the full spectacle of the church).
As Jesus embraces his newfound success and praise from authorities (not to mention the grant money “to do whatever”), he and Mary experience a rift in their philosophies, values and purposes of their work. Not to reveal any spoilers, but Jesus’ mantra of “Do what you want” doesn’t turn out to be the message that really catches on, because for every prophet that influences centuries of organized religion, there are thousands who tried and whose stories weren’t chronicled in ancient texts.
As you may have already guessed, Webber uses religion, sermons and moral teachings as a metaphor for the struggle of a young artist hoping that his or her divine inspiration will bring self-satisfaction as well as material stability, but the formalized business that brings such stability may threaten the sanctity of the work in the first place.
This play came out of Webber’s acceptance into the Tarragon Theatre playwright’s unit, and is produced with support by Festival TransAmériques and Théâtre du Trillium, so issues around voice and institutional authority must be top of mind.
It’s funny to hear a religious figure complain about having his time taken up by administrative tasks and other parallels that Webber draws between artists and prophets (helped by Cox-O’Connell’s choice to have the actors speak in affected monotones).
Webber’s suggestion that a young artist’s earnest hope for their art is that it will change the world in some grand, meaningful way is also touching.
The message is not that playwrights are like gods, but that such a leadership role is susceptible to arbitrary pronouncements of success, fanaticism, competition and style in a society that places monetary value on philosophical ideas.
Ame Henderson’s choreography adds another layer to this dynamic as an obvious demonstration of the kind of selfperformance that Davé takes on in his teachings and that Blondie exhibits as part of the magistrate’s authority.
Jesus announces, “I am Jesus!” as if repeating it automatically makes it more significant and Blondie moves in exaggerated motions to establish her authority, never deigning to conduct a real conversation with citizens. By the end of the play, Davé’s stillness, on the phone with his mother, signifies the last bit of pretence has fallen away.
Webber’s script runs the risk of being too inside baseball to hit home with anyone unfamiliar with things like grant applications, and the stylized performances are tough to break through until the story picks up steam, but Webber should feel content that even within the structure of an institution like Tarragon Theatre, his remains a unique voice.