Review by Seth Wilby
⭐️⭐️⭐️
The intimate confines of Bath’s Ustinov Studio have proven quite the hotspot for play revivals recently. Last year saw London transfers for A View from the Bridge and Machinal, and another has already been announced for 2025 (Tamsin Greig in The Deep Blue Sea). Continuing this tradition of reviving acclaimed classics, the Ustinov begins this year with a new production of Doubt, starring Maxine Peake and Ben Daniels. But would this mark a continuation of the venue’s success, or leave audiences praying for more?
Written by John Patrick Shanley, the drama premiered in New York in 2004, going on to garner numerous awards and, in 2008, a film adaptation starring Meryl Streep and Philip Seymour Hoffman. The action takes you back to 1960s New York, where Sister Aloysius, head of a Catholic School, suspects that one of her teaching fathers is abusing a vulnerable pupil. Forced to handle her investigation herself, the play lends itself neatly to questions of moral certainty.
Shanley’s script sets the action over 90 minutes, with no interval, flowing through a series of meetings between the characters as the play builds to its passionate climax. The drama is broken up, at first, by a collection of sermons by Father Flynn, detailing topics of doubt and gossip. Although enticingly performed by Daniels, these do disappointingly little to introduce us to any more of his character, or to deliver any genuinely thought-provoking lessons of conscience. This seems to be a bit of a running theme throughout the play. When at its best, Shanley’s writing, particularly in the latter half, is fully absorbing and the final scene was a compelling climax to this, leaving me on the edge of my seat. However, it takes too long to get to this point. The play's earlier scenes drag, introducing the leading plot points thinly and too gradually to leave the audience fully engaged from the get-go, and the mystery element you’d expect in Sister Aloysius’ investigation is almost entirely nonexistent.
When presented with a plot of such distressing, yet continually relevant, themes, there was a definite feeling that the play could have done more to represent the emotional scope of its events. There are definite questions raised by the play, on the conflict between conscience and duty as well as the debate on whether Father Daniels is actually guilty, but these are all left to be inferred, with a lack of indication towards them that means this isn’t a play that stays with you for anywhere near as long as it should. Perhaps this is partly due to the play’s short runtime - there’s no doubt that an extra half hour could have allowed for improved exploration of the narrative’s potential. Ultimately, however, the question remains, why now? A vivid examination into conscience and morality through these themes of alleged sexual assault could be far more thought-provoking, but the truth is that the play’s current form means a revival in 2025 seems relatively futile.
Lindsay Posner’s direction is mainly unobtrusive, succeeding in maintaining a tension throughout by letting scenes play out based only on the passion of the performances within them. There does seem to be some lack of flow within the development of the narrative, however. The first scenes have a calmness that is both conversational and interrogative, yet the final scene presents a rageful, shouting argument which, although this is where the play finally realises its potential, seems to come from nowhere. Peter McKintosh’s designs set this all in simplicity, with all furniture and walls the same ashy black, and one large branch looming above the stage. This evokes great symbolism yet, when paired with the costumes (also mainly black in keeping with its accuracy), leaves the production visually bland. The closest we get to any form of visual stimulation is a cross at the back of the stage, which lights up occasionally as if the audience may have forgotten the play’s religious core.
The clear standout for me was Ben Daniels, in a brilliantly domineering performance as Father Flynn. Daniels seems to have the audience engrossed in his performance from the off, which makes for a rather chilling realisation as the truths of his character are revealed. In his first encounter with Sister Aloysius, Father Flynn has a steady and charismatic persona, laughing off remarks about the school’s Christmas celebrations, before becoming far more serious as the undertones grow into accusations. While we never see Flynn interact with the vulnerable black boy with whom he has grown close, Daniels’ performance gives the accusations a sense of truth, without blatantly inciting wrongdoing. In his second, and final, encounter with Sister Aloysius, Flynn has lost his composure in an extremely animated performance from Daniels that’s chillingly filled with both fury and misery, stinging with hints of regret.
Leading the cast as Sister Aloysius is Maxine Peake, domineering the stage in an assured performance as the strict headmistress who’s shut out her emotions over the years and is now forced to contend with the conflict between her religious teachings and her moral need to do the right thing as her suspicions gradually prove more and more circumstantial. Peake’s quivering bottom lip, or shaking right hand, bring subtleties to a role that desperately needs them, with Peake’s performance being the key factor in bringing the play’s moral dilemma to centre stage. Peake’s dominance and stern nature is asserted quickly in her interactions with Sister James, played by Holly Godliman in a profoundly fragile professional debut with an innocence and hope that contrasts impactfully with Sister Aloysius, and makes Sister James’ later doubt all the more impactful. The play first picks up pace with the introduction of Mrs Muller, in a sturdy performance by Rachel John, who, when told of Aloysius’ suspicions of the relationship between Father Flynn and her son, reacts unexpectedly in what is a genuinely fascinating duologue that alters the audience’s preexisting convictions.
These conversations are where Peake’s portrayal shines as layers of conscience are shown but, unfortunately, it's not until the play nears its end that the audience properly develop a connection to her character. We really ought to be feeling more sympathy for Sister Aloysius as she goes through this mental struggle but her steely personality means that she isn’t someone who the audience naturally root for, and the production does little to aid in this. This builds up to an ending which is quite frankly confusing when (spoiler for the final lines of the play) Sister Aloysius bursts into tears and declares that she does, in fact, have doubts. To someone who has been resolutely conscientious in her morality throughout, her presentation as doubtful seems to counter this- even in the scene building up to this emotional climax, she seems certain in her convictions. We hadn’t seen enough layers of this character to fully comprehend this breakdown, and I did find that this confusing final note slightly dulled the impact of the play as a whole.
Doubt is a play that remains faithful to its source material throughout, and that seems to be where it falls short. Though interesting enough, there’s no doubt that a more creative approach could have been taken to properly assert its themes in a way that could be both thought-provoking and haunting. The intentions are clear, but never quite met, and, although the skilled cast shone in the powerful scenes at the play’s end, it took too long to reach these moments. Doubt is a play with definite dramatic potential but its true impact is disappointing.
Doubt plays in the Ustinov Studio at Theatre Royal Bath until March 8th
For tickets and information visit https://www.theatreroyal.org.uk/events/doubt-a-parable/
Photos by Simon Annand