Catholic gilt

Late Nite Catechism is habit forming

by Bill Rodriguez

LATE NITE CATECHISM. By Vicki Quade and Maripat Donovan. Directed by Patrick Trettenero. At Providence Performing Arts Center through August 30.

Watching Late Nite Catechism is a lot like looking up at a Fourth of July spectacle. You don't have to be an arsonist to be awed by a fireworks display, after all. And you don't have to be Catholic or a recovering Catholic to be wowed by Maripat Donovan's colorful and explosive Sister.

Running for the past two years off-Broadway and since 1993 in its Chicago birthplace, an unusually long run has begun at Providence Performing Arts Center.

No, not under gilded cherubs in the cavernous former movie palace, but in an intimate performance space accessed through the back stage door. Three hundred or so seats have been set up on the main stage in a black box cum high school auditorium. A chalkboard and classroom backdrop behind her, Sister (we never learn her name) stands at a familiar oak desk and reminds us that we're there for St. Bruno's adult catechism lessons, a refresher course on dogma and lives of the saints.

There's something for everyone. People who went to public rather than parochial school will get sympathy. ("I guess that means that your parents didn't really care about you.") Young women will get advice on what to ask when looking into the mirror each morning. ("Hmmm. I wonder if Mary, the mother of God, would have chosen this outfit.") And everybody will get the occasional one-liner. (Irish Alzheimer's: "You forget everything but the grudges.")

Donovan delivers it all with the authority of a Marine drill sergeant and the amiability of a large, maternal penguin.

A fireworks image is also apt in this confined setting. Audience members be warned: You are in danger of being the target of a pyrotechnic display yourself if you are chewing gum or sucking a Lifesaver and haven't brought enough for the whole class. Sister may zing straight for you like a Roman candle.

But gently. Donovan lands on offenders like a ton of feathers. She may make you stand up, speak in complete sentences and begin each reply with "Sister," but this is no Attila the Nun. She's more like Mother Theresa with a drawer full of confiscated water pistols and an attitude -- Sister Mary Ignatius (of Christopher Durang's scathing play) on Prozac. She's formidable but basically benign, with the patience of, if not Job, at least Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music.

Less a play than a one-person performance piece, a large part of Late Nite Catechism is ad libs and scripted spin-offs responding to the audience. You'll never see more audience participation outside of a hootenanny. On opening night, one poor dear was assigned a 1500-word paper for bluffing about being named for St. Catherine of Sienna. Sometimes an audience member really got into it. Sister levied a $1 fee on latecomers, and one victim was so worried about getting it back that she made it a running gag. One poor teenager was so distracted that she couldn't repeat the definition of the Immaculate Conception even after it was told to her. (If you think that it refers to Jesus being conceived without sex, you'd better sit in the back row.)

What storyline the performance has involves explaining some basic church dogmas as the trinity and describing the lives of some saints whose historical and beatific legitimacy has come into question. ("Churches are being closed down right and left. So some saints are getting laid off.") You will learn that St. Veronica tried to prove she was a good Catholic girl by eating cat vomit and at least one leech, and that St. Patrick was -- no foolin' -- Scottish.

In the second half, you'll be able to ask Sister questions, so bring a good one. Donovan co-authored Late Nite Catechism, so she's the one to raise your hand to if you want a definitive (and likely uproarious) answer. And when you call for tickets, ask when Donovan is scheduled, since Nunsense veteran Jodi Capeless will be playing Sister for certain performances.

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Sister act

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