Nefarious Profundities — 'The Screwtape Letters' National Tour by FPA

C.S. Lewis's  experimental novella The Screwtape Letters, and its excellent stage adaptation produced and directed by Max McLean, is an entertaining, powerful experience, enjoyable for Christians and Christ-ophobes, alike. For Christians, the words are an exercise in reverse psychology — don't pray, hate your relatives, live a double-life, follow your baser instincts, etc. — while their counterparts can laugh and cheer along while the antihero curses G-d and belittles churchgoers, easily missing the ironic truth that they, too, are on the losing side of the cosmic war.

McLean's adaptation begins with a portion from Screwtape Proposes a Toast, a non-sequential sequel to Letters, wherein Screwtape gives an after-dinner speech at the Tempter's Training College for young demons. An excellent introduction to the authority and deviousness of the titular character in that the plot of Letters is comprised of 31 instructional communiqués between the demon extraordinaire Screwtape and his nephew, who is struggling to derail the faith of his unnamed human target.

Presented by a mesmerizing Brent Harris (previously Scar in the national tour of The Lion King), Screwtape waxes diabolic about the virtues of the Father Below and their hellish mission to rid the universe of the Enemy's beloved hairless bipeds. Spiritual warfare, as seen here, isn't a blitzkrieg that levels cities. It's a slow drip that fills a home with toxic mold and destroys a concrete foundation. A slight nudge on takeoff that puts a rocket a thousand miles off course by the time it should've reached its target.

By McLean's admission, 99% of the show's dialogue was transposed verbatim from Lewis's text; so due credit for the show's densely worded witticisms and brain-smacking profundity goes to Lewis. Where McLean scores is in his skillful distillation of Lewis's themes and overarching plot into 90 minutes of soul-jarring theater. (The word-for-word audio book is 6 hours long.) Not to mention the expansion of the role of Toadpipe (played with impressive physicality by Tamala Bakkensen, on the night I attended), who like a deranged version of Disney's Pluto transcribes and delivers el jefe's correspondence, while gnawing on femurs and puking at the mention of prayer.

Scenic design, by Cameron Anderson, is intriguing in its gruesome netherworld simplicity. A floating cobblestone bridge, a twisted Dr. Seuss ladder, a wall comprised of human bones like something played Tetris with a mass grave — all beautifully lit by Jesse Klug, which (accentuated by great composition/sound design from John Gromada) helps move the nonlinear plot with excellent technical transitions.

The show's only shortfall, shared by all Christian entertainment, is its inability to answer this question: how can one produce art that is true to life and source material, while remaining family-friendly? Indeed, how could one produce a play or movie about, say, the Old Testament without scoring an NC-17 rating, except by glossing over much of humankind's atrocities and depravities contained therein? McLean's Letters stays true to Lewis's text and is thus "rated PG-13" for references to war and sexuality, yet still commits the sin of omission. With Harris's Broadway theatricality, Screwtape comes across as a stand-up comedian, rather than a devourer of human souls. The overall experience is like watching a comedy club routine starring a mature George Carlin; instead of like visiting hour at a sanitarium for the criminally insane, watching Hannibal Lecter delight in his own lip-smacking evil. The latter would be much closer to the truth.

The next and nearest performance of Screwtape Letters is in Santa Barbara at the Granada Theatre, 1214 State Street. Get your tix here, or by calling 805.899.2222.

* Images from Screwtapeonstage.com, showing director McLean in the title role, in a previous incarnation of the production.



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