THEATER REVIEW : S. D. Repertory’s ‘Heathen’ Tangles With Faith

In “The Grand Inquisitor” chapter of “The Brothers Karamazov,” Dostoyevsky tells how Christ himself would have been burnt as a heretic had he suddenly reappeared during the Spanish Inquisition.

The irony has haunted writers ever since.

Romulus Linney’s “Heathen Valley,” now having its West Coast premiere at the San Diego Repertory Theatre through Oct. 29, is the latest play to describe the classic battle lines between inspired and institutionalized faith.

Remarkably, in this rich, mythically layered production, adapted from his book of the same name, Linney manages to draw fresh blood from the ancient wound. The key difference offered is that Linney’s humble hero, Starns, does not have walkie-talkie communication with God.

A janitor, recruited by a bishop to bring God to a godless community in Appalachia called Heathen Valley, Starns’ simple mission, as he laboriously understands it, is to improve the lives of those around him: to help with the planting, teach the children, calm the frightened grandfather, help the sick, ease relations between brother and sister, husband and wife.

Starns is nothing special in his own eyes. That is, at once, the source of his magnificence and his downfall. After three years of Starns’ ministry--the same length as Christ’s--the bishop turns Judas. He withdraws his initial support after finding that the increasingly bucolic and peaceful valley does not torment itself, as he does, with a hungering after God.

Upon losing his lifeline to the church, Starns, like the tragic just man of mystical Jewish literature whose light is unknown even to himself, crumbles slowly from the inside.

For those familiar with Linney’s work, the setting is the Appalachians of the New York based-writer’s own childhood, minus a century. The story is based on fact: a bishop did found a mission in an isolated Appalachian community but the interpretation is Linney all the way, shot through with his love for the people of Appalachia and barely disguised anger for those who would use and abandon them.

The pleasures here are many, from the strong bold lines of the set, designed by D Martyn Bookwalter as an unevenly planked stage that seems to rest on stumps and pour down into mossy, rocky sod, to the lighting by Peter Nordyke--still a bit jerky on opening night--that tracks the villagers as they slip in and out of the mists between the stark poles at the back.

The fault lines, in contrast, are significant, but not deadly. Tavis Ross’ interpretation as the Bishop and Linney’s conception of the narrator/participant are the weak links in an otherwise strong six-person ensemble under the direction of Doug Jacobs.

In the crucial role of the Bishop, Ross should project the kind of unstable charisma that darkly foreshadows his mercurial nature. Instead he opts for a perfectly reasonable exterior that robs the first act of any tension and makes the twists of the second seem arbitrary rather than inevitable.

Tom Stephenson struggles valiantly with his dual role as narrator and the orphan, Billy Cobb, whom the Bishop sends to the village with Starns. The orphan role slips uncertainly in and out of focus as it never becomes clear what Cobb does in the village or how he interacts with the community.

In contrast, the play comes to life when Linney is focused on the community itself--the uncombed, unwashed, ragged, superstitious and suspicious souls, poignantly dressed by Clare Henkel, whose gestures and appearance say everything about the “poor folk” and “poor ways” who tear at Starns’ heart all through the play. That’s the blood of this work, the standard against which the roles of the Bishop and Billy should be keeping up.

Bill Dunnam plays the barely literate Starns with the wrenching struggle of Rodin’s “Le Penseur” come to life. Bruce McKenzie is a vibrating wire as the Appalachian Harlan, tamped down under Starns’ influence, flaying wildly and tragically again when Starns’ influence recedes.

Darla Cash flashes like fire that alternately scorches and warms as Harlan’s wife, Cora. And Priscilla Allen, with her big apron and long gray braid trailing out behind her turbaned head, brings an earthy solidity to Juba, the midwife who birthed Starns himself, both physically and emotionally.

Linney was awarded the American Theatre Critics Assn. $1,000 prize for a distinguished new American play for the regional production of this piece that appeared at the Milwaukee Repertory in the spring.

Although Linney is a playwright well deserving of prizes, let’s hope that this award doesn’t take away the incentive to bring an already tantalizing piece of work closer to the finish line.

“HEATHEN VALLEY”

By Romulus Linney. Director, Doug Jacobs. Set, D Martyn Bookwalter. Costumes, Clare Henkel. Lighting, Peter Nordyke. Sound, Victor Zupajnc. Fight choreography, Christopher Villa. With Tom Stephenson, Tavis Ross, Bill Dunnam, Bruce McKenzie, Darla Cash and Priscilla Allen. At 8 p.m. Tuesday-Saturday, 7 p.m. Sunday, with Sunday matinees at 2, through Oct. 29. At the Lyceum Space, Horton Plaza.