The Chancellor’s Tale

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

After the Sunday night performance, several commented, “it was a lovely play.”

Pictured L to R: David Harms (Peter); Marcus Waterman (Frank); Jim Hunt (Joseph) & Gabriella Cavallero (Ellen)

A lovely play it is not.

An honest play it is.

But not deadly honest.

The award-winning The Chancellor’s Tale by Paul Mohbacher ends on a high-feel-good-note which could only be a hopeful fantasy of what could be if power and money were erased from the scene. Fat chance. Many will disagree, which is perfectly A-OK.

Because of the viciousness of power drenched politics within the church, if the real story were told no one would believe it, much less want to produce it, much less want to buy tickets or even experience it.

Placed in 1987, the play could be anywhere, anytime, any place. On the small stage of the Bug Theatre appropriate space center stage has been relegated to the Chancel of a Catholic Church, a table at Hernando’s Hideaway restaurant sits stage left, and a desk representing the Chancellor’s office highlights stage right.

In a colloquial devil-may-care tone, the Chancellor, Joseph Miller, played by Jim Hunt weaves his tale of money, power, theological bigotry, deception, and alienation introducing the characters who will unravel his weave.

As the official “putter out of fires” in the diocese, the Chancellor fields petty complaints by well heeled parishioners against clergymen who choose to operate outside the neatly defined theological moral box they themselves have built wearing their starched “God is on our side” banner.

A radical pastor of an inner city church, Frank Donnelly, sensitively played by Marcus Waterman, has had the nerve to believe the church has something to say to people living in the inner city. Frank celebrates his truth with divine strength and power. He also has the nerve to bless the union of a Lesbian couple. The O’Keefes are horrified over the blatant theological disrespect for the church. They demand Miller take immediate disciplinary action. Miller on the horns of a dilemma, known in Bull fighting circles as the moment of truth, struggles with what to do. Here, HuntŐs projected flippant attitude belies the seriousness of the situation.

In real time Miller finds himself trapped in the age old diametrically opposed position of placating busy bodied money and power or allowing clergy freedom to serve the people who need.A

Enter Peter Schirmers, a theologian representing the staunch conservative protector of the Faith. A one-time friend of Frank, Peter convinces himself Frank has taken leave of his senses and his Faith. Sharply played by David Harms, Peter wears his eagle eye for money and power over Miller’s shoulder. He wants the chancellor’s job, no matter what the cost.

On top of it all, Miller leads a secret life. At night he travels the street reaching out to the prostitutes and derelicts. Partly because he believes they deserve it, and partly to off set his own loneliness. Alas, the O’Keefes discover his secret.

Along with the church reaching out to the wrong kind of people, there is also the women’s issue. Representing this anguish Gabrilla Cavallero gives life and breath to Ellen Bolger, a theologian who teaches at the local Catholic college. She also has the nerve to be Frank’s close friend meeting with him for lunch regularly at Hernando’s Hideaway. Of course, they love each other; of course, she wants more than friendship, as does he. Both know his dedication to his work takes prime time. That doesn’t make the scenario any easier to confront. Cavallero and Waterman deliver tender moments in their struggled involvement.

Harms plays Peter as a chosen knight to the theological maiden, Church, who needs constant fervent protection against the dragon of rhyme, reason, and purpose: to serve the people.

Cavallero projects an intelligent capable open-minded theologian as well as a warmhearted woman wanting freedom to love the man she adores.

There is frequent reference to Frank’s anger over his being asked to shut his mouth over what he does and what he’s about. His anger doesn’t really show, until an obvious moment. Whether Waterman was so directed or the script so indicated is unclear. In spite of the outrageous conflictions, the characters come off as too nice.

Directed by Stephen J. Lavezza, The Chancellor’s Tale has its profound moments, and probably goes as far as it can which may be enough for now. It just doesn’t go far enough.