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Tuesday, 22 August 2006 18:56 |
| John North
Editor & Publisher |
MARS HILL ÇƒÓ "Godës Man in Texas" was one of the weaker plays I have seen performed by the Southern Appalachian Repertory Theatre in Owen Theatre at Mars Hill College. The playës run ended last Sunday.
The plot struck me as simplistic to the point of being painfully predictable ÇƒÓ and the story ended with a whimper rather than a bang, almost as if playwright David Rambo had run out of time and/or money and wanted to quickly wrap up the show.
The
point of this satirical play, if there is one, is rather mundane.
Ultimately, I can only guess that Rambo is trying to stress the link
between sales and Christian ministry, but who doesnët already know
about that?
In introducing the show, the emcee noted that many Madison County
preachers had been specially invited by SART to attend ÇƒÓ and that a
number were in the audience. Therefore, I probably should not have been
too surprised at the enthused standing ovation at the conclusion of the
play last Friday night.
Perhaps I am jaded from seeing so many plays, both here and abroad, but
I canët help suspect that much of the crowd was applauding not just the
fine performance of the three-actor cast, but the fundamentalist
Southern Baptist theme of the production.
The play focuses on todayës mega-churches and the effect power, money
and fringe benefits have on those at the top. For instance, we learn of
gold-plated fixtures and bullet-proof glass in the pastorsë studies.
The production reportedly was inspired by the real First Baptist Church
of Dallas.
Ad nauseam, "Godës Man in Texas" repeatedly dwells on the similarities
between mega-churches and big businesses/big governments/big
universities.
Rambo strips back the veils that usually conceal the inner workings of
mega-churches to show enormous egos, an obsession with numbers, an
emphasis on marketing and, of course, the necessity of primping to look
good for the live audience as well as the legions of devotees watching
on their televisions at home.
The plot revolves around famed senior pastor Phillip Gottschall (Earl
Leininger), 81, who, albeit reluctantly, agrees to work with a
co-pastor as his possible successor at the fictional Rock Baptist
Church ÇƒÓ "the Baptist Super Bowl" ÇƒÓ in Houston.
Gottschall (perhaps a play on "got yëall?") is portrayed as more of an
egotistical chief executive officer of a Fortune 500 company than as a
spiritual leader. Indeed, his churchës "campus," of which he is the
proud founder, includes a university and high school, worldwide media
ministries, a gym (with two pools), bowling alley, dinner theater,
cineplex, retail stores, ballpark, stadiums ÇƒÓ and ministries for
singles, recovering alcoholics, seniors and overweight women.
His 40-ish protege, Jerry Mears (Kenny Gannon), who at first savors the
perks of the job, soon finds himself torn between what he perceives as
the real meaning of Christianity and the Rockës commercialized version.
A love-hate relationship develops between the two pastors, with
Gottschall asking his quirky sound technician Hugo Taney (Michael
Mattison), a talkative former drug addict, to keep an eye on Mears.
From there, the sparks fly. Gottschall simply does not want to step
down.
In contrast, Mears wants to bring souls to Christianity. Eventually, he
is forced to question the reasons he wants the pastorship ÇƒÓ and even
his own faith.
The playës sermons give the audience a sense of being in a Southern
Baptist Church, but they seem overly long. And, for a play set in
Texas, a few references to the Lone Star stateës eccentricities would
have spiced things up.
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