Taffety's Faithkiller Delivers a Muddled Message
Written by DCist contributor Monica Shores
Taffety Punk’s Faithkiller is a play clearly influenced by the bitter partisanship that has recently dominated politics, the media, and, too often, personal interactions. As one character tells another, “It’s black and white, or it’s nothing.”
Gwydion Suilebhan’s ambitious script follows several collections of characters in disparate situations that all converge around a TV remake of a 1940s radio show about a hero with a faith-eliminating gun. The characters are Muslim, Christian, Jewish, or atheist, and vehemently so, in the blind way that leads to lies, hypocrisy, and general devastation. (Buddhists and Hindus apparently don't lend themselves as well to this type of intensity, and so are spared representation.)
There are no heroes or villains here. With self-righteous certainty, characters slide back and forth seamlessly between moments of compassion and moments of betrayal of those they love. This fluidity becomes exhausting and after a certain point, implausible. More importantly, there seems to be no clear message as to what it all means. The script lashes out at monotheism, non-belief, and even, in one bizarre moment, feminism, without ever arriving at some indication as to why these indictments matter. No American should need instruction on why stridency is destructive, or the ways in which religious conviction can lead to hubris.
In spite of this, the production is well executed. The company uses its small stage space to great effect, and the crew admirably juggles numerous audio cues and film clips. Steve Beall inhabits the principled, beleaguered Henry masterfully. He’s entirely believable, if not entirely sympathetic. Joseph W. Lane brings similar weight to his role as Elijah, a man struggling to raise his willful grandson, while Andy English and Michael John Casey provide some all-too-infrequent comic relief. Kimberly Gilbert’s Mary loses nuance in the second act, where she’s relegated to perpetual pacing and fighting back tears, but this is due in a large part to the script’s insistence on sustaining a fever pitch as it steam rolls towards a half-clichéd, half-outrageous conclusion.
It’s this frenetic pacing that makes the second half drag. Everyone’s angry and increasingly desperate to preserve their ideas and their identity. But since there’s been no establishment of what’s at stake beyond individual egos, the pressure seems less suspenseful than it does histrionic.
The pacing issues and some unforeseen circumstances (director Marcus Kyd had to briefly step in for an actor at the last minute the night we went, giving the show a late start) add up to a three hour night that at moments feels longer. Good thing that even with script in hand, Kyd's relatively convincing as a black teenager.
Faithkiller runs through April 18 at Capitol Hill Arts Workshop. Tickets are available online.