Writtem by Brian Friel

Directed by Ben Evett

At the Adams House Kronauer Space

Tonight through Monday

WHAT'S HOT in theater, you ask? The monologue, duuuude, the dramatic monologue. If more than three people happen to gather near a stage, quicker than you can say "To be or not to be" some joker will pull up a chair and mike to rave on about his failed love affairs. What's more, these thespian monomaniacs are starting to break out of the Off-off Broadway ratholes they call home, colonizing the fair lands of film and legitimate theater. Whoopi Goldberg, Ann Magnuson, and Spalding Gray have all made the big break into films, the latter with a brilliant meditation entitled Swimming into Cambodia.

Perhaps that is why Ben Evett '86, a charter member of Robert Brustein's Institute for Advanced Theatrical Training, has decided to stage Faith Healer in the Adams House basement. This two hour talkfest consists of four reminiscences about Francis Hardy (Ben Evett), an itinerant Irish faith healer whose ministrations actually succeed from time to time. Hardy, his wife Grace (Rebecca Clark), and his manager Teddy (Linus Gelber) recall his life, culminating in a disastrous return tour to Ireland. Each character gives his version of the events, with Hardy going first and last; like the famous Japanese short story and film Rashomon, their accounts do not quite measure up with each other. Playwright Brian Friel, who is undergoing an inexplicable vogue among the Harvard thespian set, handles the theme of religion as a divine con game with much less sophistication than Flannery O'Conner did in her novel Wise Blood.

With twice as much stage time to fill as the other two actors, Evett is nevertheless able to project the complex, almost mystical charm his role demands. He inhabits both Hardy's character and accent with ease, no small accomplishment when he must hold the audience's attention for two half-hour segments.

The second monologue is delivered by Clark, and it's a real wall-biter. Up and down she babbles and raves, running the gamut of emotions from unhappiness to depression. Granted, Clark's role is the least interesting and worst written of the three, providing no clue as to what appeal a law student could find in an alcoholic charlatan cursed with an erratic mystical power. Still, Clark seems unable to penetrate the surface level of overwrought words and emotions, and as I was sitting on a comfy mattress, the only thing keeping my snoozometer above the critical zone was Clark's volume level. To add to the unpleasantness, her accent wanders down from Ireland into Yorkshire and back, with short sidetrips to Scotland, the Home Counties, and Tarzana, California.

It's a pity that the audience must wait until after intermission to hear Linus Gelber's interpretation of the Cockney manager Teddy, since there is such a temptation to duck out for a soothing whiskey and soda after the rant-athon. Teddy is the sort of conman with a heart of gold that Bob Hoskins might play, but I doubt he could do a better job of it than Gelber. Even if it sometimes sounds like he just got off boat yesterday, and his accent has more of the West Side than the West End in it, Gelber still pulls off the kind of smooth and assured performance rare enough on the professional stage, let alone a Harvard House basement. One can watch the flow of emotions and thoughts in Gelber's Teddy; his grief and pride in his two friends are the truly touching parts of this production. After watching Gelber's translucent performance, Evett's final monologue looks jerky and insincere in comparison, even though it is a fine enough performance in its own right.

Given the close proximity of the audience and the actors, Evett should have toned down everyone's performance; even Gelber seems to imagine he is playing for 200 instead of 20 from time to time. Perhaps if Evett had found someone to direct himself, he could have achieved the glass-like clarity of Gelber's acting. After all, the only dramatic thing an actor can do in a one-character monologue is to slowly open a window into the character's soul; there's no dialogue, or conflict, or imagery to rely upon.

The dramatic monologue is probably the hardest thing an actor can master; the fact that only one of the three actors in Faith Healer can get it right should serve as a warning to others eager to get on the soloshow bandwagon.