State Theater,

through July 28

Sometimes you know exactly where you are when you walk into a theatre, and this is one of those times. On the State Theater stage, flanking a blackboard, are an American flag, a United States map hanging over a globe on a bookcase, and pictures of Washington, Lincoln, and Kennedy, along with numerous gold stars, adorning a bulletin board. On the other side of the blackboard hangs the flag of the Catholic Church, beside which another board is hung with photographs of the Pope, Mother Theresa, and several representations of the Virgin Mary. Add to all this eight crucifixes, blue and yellow-checked tile, and stained-glass light that bathes everything in primary hues, and where else could you be but a Catholic school?

This impression is confirmed when Sister, in full habit, waddles onto the stage and proceeds to teach us catechism. Late Nite Catechism comes to Austin with cachet. Besides being performed internationally over the past few years, it has ongoing productions in Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles, to name a few locales. What's all the fuss about? Not the script, per se, because the script by Vicki Quade and Maripat Donovan appears to be only a broad outline for improvisation. As Sister points out shortly after entering, the audience is her class. The priest, for whatever reason, has sent us for catechism, and she has every intention of teaching it. She introduces herself and, through a series of monologues, lets us know of her yearning for the pre-Vatican II Catholic church.

That's the plot, but fortunately the show isn't about plot. It's about Catholicism. It is, in a sense, a memory play that plays on the memories of the audience. While the script -- or, at least, what can be discerned is actually text -- is a string of one-liners about being a Catholic nun, the show thrives on the interaction between Sister, played with perfect presence and timing by Amanda Hebert, and her students, played by us. Sure, Sister gives lessons on being Catholic (e.g., the difference between the immaculate conception and the virgin birth), but what she does most often, and to greatest effect, is question the audience and give prizes (a glow-in-the-dark rosary, a holy card, a little statue) when they answer her questions correctly. Hebert is amazing in the role. Watching her control 300 people, shushing them, making sure they don't touch each other, and prompting the answers from long forgotten lessons, she invites participation but doesn't require it, and her responses always are appropriate and appropriately sharp.

It's funny and perceptive. It skewers Catholicism subtly, but with great affection. No matter your faith, if anything I've written interests you, then I suggest you go for a lesson. Unlike, perhaps, your time in parochial school, you won't regret it.