Review: Hand to God (Victory Gardens Theater)

Gloriously gruesome and wildly over the top

Review by Catey Sullivan

For many who came of age in the 1970s, the devil will forever be associated with the pure, skin-crawling horror of "The Exorcist" - both William Peter Blatty's ground breaking novel and the movie it inspired. The idea that an unbeatable, all-powerful force could overpower your mind, body and bedframe speaks to the ultimate loss of control. You could be minding your own beeswax, not bothering anybody, and suddenly there you are screaming to the neighborhood clergyman that his mother sews socks in hell.

So it goes, sort of, in Robert Askins' Hand to God , only instead of the sheer, emotionally-scarring specter of pure evil, we get a devil who has a sense of humor as well as a taste for blood and vomit. Satan is profane, to be sure, in this Texas-set spectacle. But in this Bible-belt take on the battle between good and evil, Satan is a hand-puppet named Tyrone, and he can deliver a classic Abbot and Costello routine as easily as he can deface a church.

Unless you believe that the devil can possess puppets, you'll find little to believe in here. But in some respects, belief - and plot credibility - don't matter. is filled with events, both supernatural and sexual, that defy credibility on any level. But Askins uses those unlikely events to probe meaningful questions about how we deal with grief, faith, temptation and the daily struggle to be a decent person.

Directed by Gary Griffin, is gloriously gruesome and wildly over the top. Severed fingers, spurting blood, garroted teddy bears, Raggedy Ann dolls with their eyes gouged out: These are among the subtler machinations of the Prince of Darkness as he takes over a timid, grieving adolescent and the puppet ministry of an Evangelical church. Here's a trigger warning: If you find graphic puppet sex (yes, there is such a thing, missionary-, doggie-style and otherwise) you might want to sit this one out.

The piece is bookended by two mini-puppet shows: Tyrone opens with a crackedadoodle take on Genesis and closes, a la "The Exorcist" - with the unnerving announcement that Satan is legion, and there's basically fuckall you can do about that.

Green, bug-eyed, and eventually sporting several rows of sharp teeth, Tyrone is the creation of Jason (Alex Weisman), a cripplingly shy and horny teen who has recently lost his father. The puppet ministry is run by Jason's mother Marjorie (Janelle Snow), a brittle, disturbed woman knocked utterly off-balance by the death of her husband.

Marjorie has created the puppet ministry as a lifeline for herself - as she notes early on, it's only the love of Jesus Christ and the prospect of a Christian puppet show that's keeping her from a complete breakdown.

In addition to Marjorie's son Jason, the puppeteers include Jessica (Nina Ganet), a sweet young woman who is the object of Jason's unholy sexual fantasies, and Timothy (Curtis Edward Jackson) a black-clad, profanity-spewing rebel-without-a-clue who has signed up for puppet ministry because he wants to bone Marjorie. Pastor Greg (Eric Slater) is the creeper of a clergyman who oversees this troubled group.

One of the highlights in comes when Snow's Marjorie - hard as nails on the outside and a raging inferno within - calls out Pastor Greg for "using the church" to seduce her. It's a gloriously satisfying scene for any woman (and I'm gonna wager that's most women) who have been subjected to Pastor Greg's form of wooing. Ladies, you know the type: He's the paternal gent who insists that he can heal all of your terrible damage if only you'll let down your destructive walls and fall into his loving arms. And then, when you decline to do so, he snaps off that you're going to die alone and unloved, and who do you think you are anyway, declining such a princely offer of rescue? Slater's Pastor Greg absolutely nails the type and makes him all the worse by bringing Jesus into things. Marjorie's response to this pasty-faced skeeviness makes a joyful noise indeed.

Askins' first act is something of a head scratcher, as Tyrone - seemingly permanently attached to Jason's arm - relentlessly bullies Jason and hits on Jessica in the crudest possible manner. If you're left wondering what's going on - does Jason have multiple personalities? Is he using Tyrone as a crutch, using the puppet all the things he can barely bring himself to think about? Is this a riff on that Twilight Zone episode where the ventriloquist gets killed by his own dummy? - you aren't alone. Moreover, there's a hurricane-force hookup in Act 1 that defies credibility, even if you do believe that the devil can inhabit puppets.

But Act II brings clarity, and the performances are strong throughout. Snow and Jackson have a scene that's as physical as a 'roided up wrestling match and a force-12 typhoon. As physical comedy goes, it's brilliantly executed.

As Jason, Weisman captures the aching, almost unbearable vulnerability that turns insecure, inwardly tormented teenagers into anguished mutes. Minus Tyrone, Jason can barely stutter out a coherent sentence, especially when he's trying to chat up his crush Jessica. He's completely at the mercy of Tyrone, his damaged, demanding mother and the bullying Tim. Weisman plays both Jason and Tyrone with exhausting intensity; so much so that you start to think midway through that he should be earning double-time for this production.

Jackson's Tim is also a hoot, glowering so fiercely you can practically see the sooty aura of surliness and hormonal rage surrounding him. And as Pastor Greg, Slater is an infuriating man-child with the self-awareness of a rutting goat.

Joe Schermoly's set is terrific, a rotating, life-sized diorama that moves from church classroom to back alley, to pastor's office, to church classroom as den-of-Satan-decorated-by-Charles-Manson. And Daniel Dempsey's puppet design is simple but effective.

is so thickly slathered in noisy crudity that you really have to dig to get at its heart. But if you're willing to excavate, there's plenty to ponder.

continues through October 23rd at Victory Gardens Biograph Theater, 2433 N. Lincoln (map), with performances Tuesdays-Fridays 7:30pm, Saturdays 3pm & 7:30pm, Sundays 3pm. Tickets are $15-$60, and are available by phone (773-871-3000) or online through PrintTixUSA.com (check for half-price tickets at Goldstar.com ). More at VictoryGardens.org. (Running time: 1 hour 50 minutes, includes an intermission. Recommended for mature audiences.)

Photos by Liz Lauren

behind the scenes

Gary Griffin (director), Joe Schermoly (scenic design), Janice Pytel (costume design), Christine Binder (lighting design), Christopher Kriz (original music, sound design), Michael Dold (properties design), Daniel Dempsey (puppet director, puppet design), Rachel Christianson (puppet design), Isaac Gomez (dramaturgy), Tina Jach (production stage manager), Liz Lauren (photos).

Tags: 16-0947, Alex Weisman, Biograph Theater, Catey Sullivan, Chicago Theater, Christine Binder, Christopher Kriz, Curtis Edward Jackson, Daniel Dempsey, Eric Slater, Gary Griffin, Isaac Gomez, Janelle Snow, Janice Pytel, Joe Schermoly, Liz Lauren, Michael Dold, Nina Ganet, post, Rachel Christianson, Robert Askins, Tina Jach, Victory Gardens Theater