By Lola Carlton

“What do you do when you’re not sure? You look for God’s direction and you can’t find it.”

It would be fundamentally redundant for me to begin talking about Sydney Theatre Company with praise. As arguably Australia’s paragon theatrical organisation, they have a certain duty to brilliance - a responsibility rightly not given to smaller theatres. That being said, I find much of Sydney Theatre company hit or miss. I adored American Signs in 2024, but hated Dracula in that same year. Doubt: A Parable, however, has washed any...well… doubt I had in the company away.

It’s 1967 and Father Flynn is a beloved priest, coming into schools to work with children. Sister Aloyisius, the principle, ever-guarded in her traditionalist identity, can’t help it, however, to look past his charisma and closer at his conduct, watching the way he interacts with one particular young boy. Without the audience ever meeting the boy himself, and never knowing who is giving us a straight answer, as the tensions of the play rise into their ultimate nadir, we are left with a terrible sinking feeling of not knowing who’s actually at fault. Or if anyone is at fault at all.

Remiss to say, even as a rather harsh critic, the production completely blew me out of the water.

The script, by John Patrick Shanley is utterly fantastic. A fascinating little blend of comedy, tension, tragedy, and not one genuinely comforting moment in its 90 minutes of stage time. The characters are incredibly strong, the dialogue effortlessly supports a performer with half an ounce of talent. It’s an incredibly hard watch, which is what makes it so important to see.

Of course, this is uplifted by the fact that STC’s band of performers have more than a mere ounce of talent. For posterity to the readers of this magazine, I will admit to being quite the Interview With The Vampire fan - so watching the Sam Reid take the stage as Father Flynn was incredibly exciting. That being said, beyond my meager fangirling, he was an excellent performer. The character necessitates a certain je ne sais quoi, a magnetism that makes him so terrifyingly easy to lionize. And yet, he must also have strange dark streaks, a silver fin of a shark in bright blue waters, so when he is accused of a crime, you don’t want to believe it, but you do. Sam Reid has put his practice in character work to use, and devoured each and every tiny morsel of discomfort he could, spitting them back at his audience to watch them squirm. Many of my favourite moments from him were his most subtle, tiny flexes of power that made the hair on the back of our necks stand up. His accent work was a little wobbly here and there, but Reid makes up for that in leaps and bounds simply with his presence on that stage.

He is, however, maybe outshone by one of the best performances I believe to have ever had the pleasure of watching - Pamala Rabe as Sister Aloyisius. Rabe, to put it mildly, is giving the audience a Juilliard quality masterclass in performance on that stage. How to describe it without saying, go watch the show yourself is slightly escaping me. As a vocal performer, she was leaps and bounds the most believable - both in accent, and in pitch and tempo, never afflicted by the ever-creeping “theatre voice”. Her character work was above and beyond, she was completely submerged in the world. She wasn’t an actor playing a character, she was an entire person plucked from another time and another place onto the Sydney stages. This included moments of comedy. It would be a terribly easy trap to fall into to make that character overly serious, but Rabe relished every modicum of light and shade she could find. Physically, she was so composed that the tiniest of her movements made entire moments. It’s pretty damn hard to compete with Meryl Streep in character work, but Rabe put up a fair fight that, for me, could put either of them on top at any moment. What else can I say? If you dare to call yourself an actor in Sydney, and you miss that performance, you’ve missed one of the best dramatic educations money can buy.

The second half of this dramatic ensemble; Zindzi Okenyo and Shannen Alyce Quan, were incredibly strong performers in their own right. Okenyo, for only having one scene in the entire show, was incredibly impressive - creating an entire dramatic narrative and character arc in about seven minutes flat. Her emotional work was deeply compelling, I just wish to have had her on stage a little longer. Quan, as Sister James, was also strong, however next to Reid and Rabe, often felt a little like she was playing catch-up. Her emotional work was developed, but some of the higher moments felt a little uneared. Her accent work was smooth, but some of her vocal work came across as exaggerated, and next to the extreme naturalism of Rabe, this was particularly noticeable. All in all, a very good performance, whilst also being a perfect example of being a small fish in a very, very large pond.

Directorially, Doubt triumphs again. The imagery across the board was breathtaking. Bob Cousins in Design has clearly done his homework in the show. Walking in, you could feel that grey, steel-cold winter air blow right through you. The set was magnificent (and a turntable! One of my all time favourites) dry and lonely, the perfect setting for a show like this. Marion Potts has created something magnificent. The entire show sings with cohesive brilliance; across character, across blocking, across vision. Lighting by Damien Cooper kept us almost too involved with what was happening, too exposed, too harsh, just enough to keep us razor-focused. Jessica Dunn in sound created both the holy largeness of the religious experience and the droning anxiety of the show. Charmien Gradwell's work on voice and text meant that every word held meaning, and that each and every moment of sound was worshiped to its full potential.

If you, like me, have any doubt in the state of Australian theatre, STC’s production of Doubt: A Parable will leave you disquieted, uncomfortable, and deeply, deeply soothed. Potts has proved that we do have the talent and the ability here to create something breathtaking if we are passionate enough. From design to performances, the entire show is an absolute flex of competence and ability. Nothing makes me happier than a good show, except, perhaps, encouraging all of you to buy tickets.