There’s nothing quite as delicious as a searing sendup of Southern sanctimony, particularly when it reveals the fangs behind saccharine smiles and the claws clasped in prayer.
That’s likely why Charleston-based television great Danny McBride combed these very parts for strip mall sanctuaries and mega-mansion preacher’s homes, turning our frequently flawed relationship with God, money and power into the comedic gold in The Righteous Gemstones.
Now, Charleston playwright Fred Thompson (Atwater) is here to testify that there is a heaping helping of hubris and hilarity there for the savoring. The world premiere of his latest work, Church Wars, is directed by Sharon Graci for the launch of PURE’s 24th season. The show runs through Sept. 19 at Cannon Street Arts Center, 134 Cannon St.
Thompson’s work goes easy on the raunch and brimstone of the HBO series, but he has plenty of tantalizing fun with his effective conceit. The thrust is this: To raise funds for a church, some congregants with sway to push through the creation of a Southern staple, the church cookbook, with all its biscuits and bless-your-heart. Expect a fight to the death over red velvet cake, deviled eggs and cooter soup, too.
To add an extra dollop of drama, a parishioner by the name of Vea has turned the initiative into a recipe for her own megalomania, calling the shots while fobbing off the work, strong-arming her own dubious culinary contributions, and even enlisting a documentary maker (Mason Monti) to immortalize the whole endeavor.
Like a prized family casserole, the 11-member cast melds its divergent congregation into a delectable whole, with performers asserting their distinct flavors, from R.W. Smith’s woefully flawed Pastor Fred to Julian Blake Gordon’s number-crunching, budget-focused Dash, and from Emily Wilhoit’s delegating diva of a Vea that you love to hate to Camille Lowman’s type-A delegatee Grace.
There are others, too, like Jayna (Anna Lin) and Chris (Ngaa Magombedze), ready to lend a progressive voice to the cacophony and the conscience-addled Brenda (Tara Holwenger), at odds with truly practicing what Pastor Fred preaches. And as an ensemble they converge on the expansive stage in lively chaos, antically playing off one another to form an effervescent, engaging whole. To sidestep a full-on spoiler, suffice it to say that in this storyline, it wouldn’t be a proper church war without a food fight.
All this is captured in real time on stage, set up as the fellowship hall, as well as via projections that add energy, and at times a hint of reality TVv. Actors also conduct their private exchanges via cell phone calls, popping up throughout in PJs and robes to signify they are at home, burning up the wires to commiserate, conspire and more.
Pure Theatre gets a blue ribbon for mounting an original, topical work, particularly in a Charleston theater season, which in aggregate has elected to hark back to classics rather than clap back at societal issues that are, well, boiling over. Let’s toss in some extra points for its home-baked provenance, both in its Southern-fried, churchified setting and a dash of Charleston tossed in the mix that prompted a collective audience chuckle.
Mind you, it doesn’t quite pack the slap-yo-mama fire McBride lavished on his ecclesiastical Lowcountry table. Still, Church Wars makes its points in a game, compelling fashion that’s more than palatable, and plenty of fun. If you’re up for a rollicking, relevant evening of live theater in these wild times, you’ll eat it up.
IF YOU WANT TO GO: Shows are 7:30 p.m. on Sept. 3-5, 10-12 and 17-19. Matinees at 11 a.m. Sept. 13; and 3 p.m. Sept. 19. Tickets: $50 to $56. More: puretheatre.org
Help keep the City Paper free.
No paywalls.
No subscription cost.
Free delivery at 800 locations.
Help support independent journalism by donating today.
