There is a tender savagery to the ways in which the play tackles the idea of Christian faith, of the foundations of belief that underpin what eventually became the Catholic Church as we know it. It would almost seem an offhand performance, but for the way she moves about the space, fiercely pushing herself into its corners this is a Mary who has been witness to no miracle other than her ability to survive and to make her presence known.Īnd here is Tóibín’s real motive: a kind of respectful subversion but also a deep, intellectual challenging of the biblical message, which renders the women mute or submissive or merely loving.
Vast swathes of the running time are taken up with her nonchalantly throwing the poetry of the lines out the side of her mouth, as if the weight of her experience is best conveyed casually, as if she’d grown bored of the bullshit that’s calcified around her dead child. In the title role – the only one on stage despite the looming presence of Christ, of his followers, of Mary Magdalene – Pamela Rabe demonstrates precisely why she’s one of the most formidable actors in the country. This is where the title comes into play: a testament is far more than a statement tendered in court it is what one gives to one’s heirs. Only they want some changes, some simplifications and justifications, something that allows them to sell the branded message of Christ rather than lay claim to an actual history. In the Bible, although the details are sketchy, Mary ascends to heaven not long after Jesus goes up in this play, years have passed since her son’s death and the evangelists – but actually only Mark and an unnamed sidekick – have come to record her version of events. Like his most recent novel House of Names, a retelling of the story of the house of Atreus, the character of Mary allows him to occupy a voice on the margins, touched by greatness but scarred as much as moved by it. Irish author Colm Tóibín has mastered a kind of uncanny private intimacy in novels like Brooklyn and Nora Webster it may seem odd for him to try his hand at something epic and monumental, but in fact the material suits him. She offers us a testimony of her experience, and it is not the tale we’ve been led to believe. We’re in a decidedly contemporary setting but her language is arcane, as she talks of wells and temples and old, old gods. This is Mary, Mother of Christ, although neither her name nor her son’s is actually uttered. There is also a woman haunting this soulless space, alternately grief-stricken and galled, powerless in significant ways and yet determined to speak, even if just this once. There’s a kitchenette, a mattress and a formica table bookended by utilitarian chairs made of steel and plastic.
#THE TESTAMENT OF MARY TOIBIN CATHOLIC SERIES#
The first symbol in a play ripe with them is the set a series of rooms in glass and grey, it’s so liminal it could pass for a bus shelter.