Dead Man Walking

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

Unfortunately, Dead Man Walking drew a short straw for a short run at the Denver Victorian Playhouse. Presented by the DU College of Law and Alliance Stage Dead Man Walking, written by Tim Robbins, was directed by Angela Stringer Astle. Robbins wrote the play based on his movie, which was adapted from Sister Helen Prejean’s book, Dead Man Walking. The book records her incredible personal journey working with a man convicted of murder and rape living on Death Row for six years, an unlikely place for a nun to be.

Inspiring and unnerving at the same time, Sister Prejean worked and lived in the Catholic order of St. Joseph, committing her life to working with the poor. In the early 1980s her strong faith and commitment led her to become the Spiritual Advisor to a man on Louisiana’s death row. In spite of the resistance she found, her dogged determination, flanked by her faith, took her on a journey to rediscover the belief the Church held concerning the dignity and value of every person no matter who they are or what they have done. She was forced to look the justice system straight into the eyes with piercing questions. Most on death row are poor and unable to afford equal justice. Just being poor can make a major difference whether one lives or dies. While the majority of us look at these questions through an intellectual sieve, Sister Prejean stood only a couple of feet from the flesh and blood issues hearing their voices, aching for them to hear hers.

Robbins only allows this play to be produced through colleges and universities with the hope of furthering discussions about the death penalty in an educational forum. To encourage future productions, all proceeds from the show have been donated in the form of a needs-based scholarship to the next college or university producing the play.

In a way his decision is commendable. In a way it is too bad the restrictions keep Dead Man Walking from being produced by social conscientious theatres. This is a play that would like to be seen by a variety of different people sporting a variety of different viewpoints, by those who are “dead set” in their thinking as well as those who ride the fence.

With a cast of 18 actors, this production of Dead Man Walking featured Terry Ann Watts as Sister Helen Prejean. Watts carried the production not only because it is Helen’s story told partly through narration and partly through a variety of scenarios that inter play throughout her tug-of-war experience, but also because Watts has the expertise to play the vulnerabilities side by side with power, strength, and doubting questions. Watts captures the words, bringing them to life, owning the character.

She’s a nun, living a relatively quiet life struggling with the war on poverty in her own way along side her order.

Out of the clear blue sky comes a request from Matt Poncelet (Michael Richman) a convicted murder and rapist living on Death Row in a Louisiana prison. He’s been there for six years, convinced he is innocent, continues to study law, and wants someone to help him. No one is beating down his cell door saying, “here I am.” Not knowing what she was getting herself into, Helen accepts the assignment. She has never been in a prison before, much less on death row. She has never looked a convicted murderer into the eyes. She has never dealt with hostile and caustic guards, much less priests who look at her with distain, disbelief and jaundice sarcasm, as does Chaplain Farley (Stuart Goldstein). He makes it clear he thinks she doesn’t belong there, that Matt hasn’t seen a woman in six years, and how can she be a nun anyway, she’s not wearing a habit.

Helen not only has to contend with Matt, the guards and the Chaplain, but the parents of the two slain kids, Clyde and Marybeth Percy (Chuck Sherrod, Peggy Miller) and Earl Delacroix (Karsten Figueroa). Hurt and filled with anger over the loss of their children, Helen’s presence ignites the fire in their anger when they realize she hasn’t taken sides and continues to work with Matt. Then there is Matt’s mother, Lucille (Robin Freeman) to contend with. Facing constant humiliation and community ridicule, Freeman played out Lucille’s self-imposed death sentence with heavy blank eyes and a heavy heart she could barely carry onto the stage. Freeman’s heavy blankness told a thousand stories in a few lines.

With Dead Man Walking it doesn’t matter where one sits concerning the death penalty. Here one comes face to face and eyeball to eyeball with those who live through it, not only for the one convicted but also for those who play a part whether it’s the guards who live in death row by necessity of a job or the families who have to find their way through the frightening maze. Dead Man Walking asks hard questions that deserve attention. From her own account Helen discovers there are no easy answers. Still she walked in the midst of a moral and spiritual crises offering comfort to the most detestable man she had ever met.

Astle and Sarah Roshan designed the set, which included a hard-core cell across stage left. The small stage at the Vic was wisely used as Helen passed in and out of various memories and encounters. Brett Neilson designed the sound system including heavy cell doors opening and closing which definitely added to the stunning experience.

Richman approached the character of Matt with a soft demeanor that did not fit a hardened criminal. For one who had been on death row for six years, with only hardened guards to relate to, a gentle nice guy attitude didn’t fit as well as his prison uniform. Even when his frustration and anger came to the forefront, the nice guy was too evident to be believable, and far too casual to be taken seriously. Matthew, too kind, too nice, too easy going to believe this was a man who spent six years on death row convincing himself he was innocent of murder and rape. Richman gave the character no reason for Sister Helen to be even the slightest bit afraid or leery of accepting the unusual invitation to be his spiritual advisor. Watts picked up the mantle and wore it anyway.

Sister Prejean does find a lawyer, Hilton Barber to champion the cause. Clyde “Collide” Sacks slicks down a lawyer façade with a steel-trap mind allowing room for compassion for this compelled nun who is willing to play outside of her league. Even though Barber loses his case, Sacks gives an outstanding performance of a lawyer mind willing to dive in head first to tackle the judicial system. The court scene between he and the Prosecuting Attorney Gilardi played by Nuriel Heckler sends chills running loose around the theatre. The courtroom scene reverberates with a myriad of hateful, fearful attitudes bouncing off the walls in staccato cadence begging to be revisited and examined.

Over all the actors reached for an element in their characters that floated just beyond their reach.

One bright spot in particular came with Herbie played by Ajala Bandele. One of the young people Helen in her innocent days of tutoring disadvantaged children, Herbie struggles with the comprehension of algebra. With a sly quizzical smile, he wants to know how x+y can equal z when no qualified value is given to letters. Bandele makes the most of Herbie. Is he teasing or is he serious? A relatively simple time for Sister Prejean, it was enough, at that point, for her order to center in on the poor.

The play itself is too long. After the execution of Matt, the emotional impact hits, and the play should end with a dramatic flair, but it doesn’t. It goes on to express ideas already whirling in the mind, leaving very little to the imagination. Instead of being struck with a “whoa,” the first thought when the house lights come up is “too long.”

Even though the play moves smoothly from one scenario to another, cohesiveness by the characters wasn’t always present. Perhaps the emotions were too raw, and too threatening for some of the cast. Some appeared to force their characters and force their lines.

One element that stood out for me like a sore thumb was the use of smokeless cigarettes. That knocked believability out the window with the constant reminder that this doesn’t have to be taken seriously, “we’re just playing anyway.” The illusion was instantly broken, but this was not a time to pretend.

Although there are 18 actors, most of them play multiple roles; the program was quite confusing on some aspects defining who was playing whom. It would have been extremely helpful if there had been a defining list in the program for the cast identifying some of the characters.

Now that is said and done, this is an important story, a vital issue on capitol punishment. This is the story of an innocent nun, called to work with the poor, responding to an opportunity to work with a condemned man out of her league, beyond her comprehension, yet she went maybe not so willingly, maybe dragging her feet, but found herself unable to turn her back.

Hopefully, sometime soon, another local college or university will jump at the opportunity to produce Dead Man Walking. It deserves a longer run and wider audience base.