'The Gospel According to Thomas Jefferson, Charles Dickens and Count Leo Tolstoy: Discord'

Saint Peter, I assume?

Carter's first challenge is how US founding father Jefferson (1743–1846), British author Charles Dickens (1812–1870), and Russian novelist Leo Tolstoy (1828–1910) might even meet. He devises a sterile room with ivory wall and floor, holding only a metal desk and three chairs (set by Lance Kniskern). The modern red exit sign above the door, plus a speaker built into the high wall, suggest a museum chamber. Each character enters and discovers that the door locks behind him. They're all dead, we (and they) soon realize, and they have assumed their career-zenith looks, age, and clothing (with great period detail by Millie Hiibel).

Director James Ijames keeps the dialogue popping as each discovers who the others are, and fills in any audience knowledge gaps: "You wrote as well, Leo?" Dickens asks Tolstoy, "Or, rather, you wrote also. No one could write as well as Dickens." Dickens (Brian McCann) is an insufferable egomaniac, Tolstoy (Andrew Criss) a crotchety revolutionary, and Jefferson (Gregory Isaac) an upright rationalist. These caricatures puzzle over why they're sequestered together. Thirty minutes in, Jefferson says, "I made my own Bible."

The room responds

Mysterious forces (cleverly created by lighting designer Shon Causer and props wizards Avista Custom Theatrical Services) provide a Bible, notebook, and pen, and the men decide to combine ideas to create a new gospel. Dickens believes the traditional story of Jesus's birth but wants to dramatize it with long-lost twins, while Tolstoy calls it "poor religion and bad literature." Jefferson removes all miracles and angels: "We must trust our senses," he says, "or else all is wind."

The often heady debate favorably compares to George Bernard Shaw, who likewise made intellectual discourse sincere and passionate. (The outspoken atheist didn't rewrite the Gospels, but blasphemed by rewriting Shakespeare!) No amount of moving furniture around the room, or standing on it, as Ijames allows, creates "action." Through its lively debate, Gospel's fine cast bring these initially stiff figures to life and make them face themselves. Since "the truth shall set us free," they realize, they must confront their truth; the way each acted in life is shockingly juxtaposed with his accomplishments.

The patience afforded this jam-packed 85-minute The Gospel According to Thomas Jefferson, Charles Dickens and Count Leo Tolstoy: Discord gets rewarded, as the play is capped by a suitably ambiguous yet hopeful ending. I'm glad Carter didn't define the afterlife, especially as a tired, ledger-keeping, bureaucratic cliché; instead, as Ijames's smart production shows, it closes with a moment of glorious wonder.

To read Stacia Friedman's review, click here.