Stage Review: Kimberly Richards takes command as feisty nun in 'Catechism'
Thursday, December 14, 2006
By Christopher Rawson, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
Pittsburghers sometimes being a step behind the curve, there may be some who haven't yet caught on to the "Late Nite Catechism" phenomenon over at City Theatre on the South Side.
The current installment, helping us laugh our way through the holidays, is "Sister's Christmas Catechism." It follows "Late Nite Catechism" and its sequel, "Sometimes We Feel Guilty Because We Are Guilty," one or the other of which has been packing the house at City for some 60 weeks since the first one opened for what was expected to be a brief run in April 2005.
Playing Sister for all but nine of those weeks has been Kimberly Richards, Pittsburgh-born, California-bred, Catholic school-educated and San Francisco- and Las Vegas-trained. I stress all that because Richards plays a nun with such feisty assurance that I'm sure there are audience members who assume she really is a nun, albeit the funniest, smartest most flexible one they've ever met.
"Sister's Christmas Catechism" is just that, a brush-up course on the Catholic version of the Christmas story, with plenty of class participation (Sister takes no guff but she hands out lots of prizes) culminating in a living nativity scene.
I reviewed the show when it was first at City, this time last year, in the 110-seat Hamburg Studio. I went back this year because I had a good time then and I wanted to see how it would do on the 275-seat mainstage.
It loses nothing. Richards has complete command of the larger room, and Sister, like Santa Claus, sees you every moment and knows instantly whether you're whispering to your neighbor, showing too much decolletage or chewing gum. All these venial sins ("gateway sins" she calls them: "first talking in class, then insider trading") are punished, usually with a dollar fine, although if you really make an ass of yourself you may end up playing that role in the nativity scene.
Tony Ferrieri's grade school set has metastasized nicely, sending tributary garlands and strings of colored lights snaking throughout the auditorium. About 10 seats are right up front, but sitting there holds no fear as long as you behave.
Much of Sister's routine is ad lib, playing off whatever the audience provides, but there is also a script, full of Christmas factoids, good advice ("it's nice to be important but it's more important to be nice") and tart references to "your lesser, spin-off religions."
Call it Christmas comic relief, a mix of the sacred and profane, the Bible and pop culture. Its trick is to let us have it both ways, laughing at our rituals and memories while celebrating them, too.
I don't think you have to be Catholic (I'm not) to have a great time. And when the carefully cast crew of audience members emerges to form a living nativity scene, lovingly costumed in assorted rummage sale specials (bathrobes, shower curtains, lampshades and toilet covers), there is uproarious laughter but also a kind of transcendence, when silliness shines with something sweetly serious about our common humanity.