COMMENTARY: McNally’s bleak `Corpus Christi,’ passion play ends with a whimper

c. 1998 Religion News Service NEW YORK _ “We’re all the son of God,” declares Judas, portrayed as an openly gay man. Spreading ideas like that is Jesus’ great blasphemy, remarks the High Priest, paying out those 30 pieces of silver. “Unless you’re looking for trouble, I would keep that to myself,” he advises Judas, […]

c. 1998 Religion News Service

NEW YORK _ “We’re all the son of God,” declares Judas, portrayed as an openly gay man.

Spreading ideas like that is Jesus’ great blasphemy, remarks the High Priest, paying out those 30 pieces of silver. “Unless you’re looking for trouble, I would keep that to myself,” he advises Judas, characterizing the son of God with an unprintable homophobic epithet.


They are fighting words for the protesting religious groups who have been gathering outside Manhattan Theatre Club, where “Corpus Christi” made its controversial off-Broadway debut Tuesday night (Oct. 13). Considering all this commotion, it’s a pity the play isn’t a more fulfilling work.

Inside, past the metal detectors, one of America’s best-regarded playwrights, Terrence McNally, offers a new drama of thoughtful intent. Yes, this is a “gay Jesus” play _ but not one meant simply to shock the faithful or defame the Roman Catholic Church. In his contemplation of bias, McNally merges the saga of Christ’s life on Earth with an account of a quasi-typical gay man’s place in contemporary America.

A number of earlier McNally plays have considered various aspects of gay society. In works like “Lips Together, Teeth Apart” and “Love! Valour! Compassion!”, McNally has made passing references to what he sees as the straight world’s chronic aversion to homosexuals. In “Corpus Christi,” McNally indulges his sad belief that heterosexuals hate all gay people _ even if one of them might prove to be Christ himself.

Yet in spite of the playwright’s skill and affecting moments in director Joe Mantello’s admirable production, “Corpus Christi” fails to be rewarding theater. The corpus is there, but the play never really comes to life.

The stage is artfully stripped to its backstage walls. Actors clad in street clothes lounge around. As the play begins, the actors are individually baptized with an apostle’s name, and each speaks a little about his character. James is a teacher, Matthew is a lawyer, and so forth, and they’re all implicitly modern-day gay men.

Each one in turn changes into khaki slacks and white shirts which they wear, with minor costume add-ons as needed, to portray a score of other epoch-bending figures, ranging from prom queens to Roman centurions. Fluently performed with a few props, “Corpus Christi” loosely relates the greatest story ever told in contemporary accents and as if the Messiah were gay.

Born not so long ago in a fleabag motel, a man named Joshua (Anson Mount) grows up in Corpus Christi, Texas, where he is the sensitive type who’s not so good at football but a wonder at doing up the sock-hop decorations at Pontius Pilate High. Girls and teachers like Joshua well enough, but the jocks give him a rough time.


Entering a teen-age romance with a sexy wise guy named Judas (Josh Lucas), Joshua tells him, “You can come no closer to me than my body. Everything else you will never touch. Everything important is hidden from you.” (Judas replies, “Whatever.”)

That discreet, fleeting interlude, of course, can’t be paged up in the New Testament. But the remainder sketches out the usual highlights of Jesus’ post-hometown years: spiritual trials in the wilderness (with Satan in the guise of James Dean), encounters with his disciples-to-be, a few miracles, some wise words (“God loves us most when we love each other”), and the inevitable betrayal and crucifixion. If theatergoers can deal with McNally’s concept, his rather adorably depicted gay context isn’t unduly disturbing.

What proves more troubling than McNally’s bleak view of heterosexual acceptance of gays is the fact that this play ends with a dead man. There is no triumphant resurrection, no eternal salvation. Just a disconsolate look-what-they-did-to-him whimper of a conclusion.

Seeing the life of Christ, gay or otherwise, portrayed without the resurrection is not to tell his story at all. Perhaps the playwright drives into this dead end to underline his theme that hate destroys everything, even divinity on Earth, but surely such utter nihilism negates every wonder of the passion play preceding it.

Not that the piece contains wonders other than story points. These ancient and modern-day templates do not mesh particularly well. McNally’s imagination seems sadly constrained between the dictates of biblical lore and contemporary attitudes. The story ambles along predictably, offering very few theological, moral or gay insights during its intermission-free two hours.

Although Mount could be more charismatic as Joshua, the other players are an engaging bunch. Mantello and his designers expertly provide some nice stage pictures, such as a dreamy ’60s prom scene swaying to “Unchained Melody.” But such attractive window dressing only points up the sorrowful emptiness of “Corpus Christi.”


PH END SOMMERS

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