The Atheist Mother
Reviewed by Martίn Hernández
The Brickhouse Theatre
Through November 13
Madalyn Murray O’Hair was a force of nature even before the 1963 Supreme Court decision —brought on by her lawsuit in conjunction with a similar one — banned prayer in public schools. A reader of the Bible at twelve years old, O’Hair grew convinced of its myriad hypocrisies and became an atheist.
After separating from her husband during World War II, she joined the WACs and served as a cryptographer in Italy. There, an affair with a married officer led to her first out-of-wedlock child, Bill. She earned a law degree, no small feat for a single mother in macho 1949 Texas — though she failed the bar exam. She then had another son.
After the landmark 1963 victory, she filed many similar lawsuits, espoused her controversial views on TV talk shows, and outlived another (separated) husband. Life magazine dubbed her “the most hated woman in America,” a term she heartily embraced. Even her death was extraordinary: a former employee of her American Atheists organization and his accomplices robbed, kidnapped, and murdered her in 1995, along with her younger son, Jon Murray, and Bill’s daughter, Robin Murray-O’Hair.
So, it is regrettable that in this fictionalized account about the famous court case, playwright Willard Manus has eschewed much of O’Hair’s earlier life and reduced a formidable and provocative woman to a one-dimensional, literally hand-wringing simulacrum, bereft of the flamboyance the real O’Hair possessed. Add in director Judith Rose’s awkward staging and a mostly miscast ensemble that, despite its enthusiasm, misses cues and struggles for lines, and Manus’ well-meaning but clichéd world premiere work hardly gives justice to O’Hair’s legacy and life.
It is 1960 in Baltimore, Maryland — though you would not know it from the program — and Maggie Mitchell’s (Taylor Donlan) teenage son Bill (a likeable Carlos Chavez) refuses to participate in his public school’s mandatory morning prayer. Maggie seeks advice from an ACLU-affiliated attorney, Irwin (Sam Aaron sporting an anachronistic Samson-like mane) on how to get around the school’s rules. Despite his misgivings about a Jewish lawyer taking on a Roman Catholic political establishment, Maggie convinces Irwin to be her counsel.
The school district deems Bill a discipline problem and he is suspended at an administrative hearing by Teresa (Helen Siff), a haughty and stereotypical school bureaucrat. This emboldens Maggie and Irwin file a lawsuit against the district to get prayer thrown out of schools, on grounds of the First Amendment.
Soon Maggie and Irwin are joined by George (Bruce Nehlson), a sympathetic leftist, who helps subsidize the cause. He takes a shine to Maggie, who deftly rejects his advances, whereas Bill sees George as a political and emotional mentor. Legal setbacks shake Irwin’s confidence, but after a series of legal hoops he gets the case accepted for hearing by the Supreme Court. Maggie, Bill and George get a newsletter and start to raise funds — and the rest, as they say, is history.
While the men sport clothing reminiscent of the time, Donlan’s costumes are more modern – this reviewer could swear she was wearing a Fit Bit, or at least a contemporary watch. Manus’ formulaic storytelling only scratches the surface of the motivations and relationships of his characters. Scenes between Maggie and Bill barely touch on their seemingly loving mother-son bond, though Chavez delivers a believably boyish Bill. And, rather than inspire, Aaron deflates Irwin’s final argument to the “Nine Old Men” with a faltering line delivery.
Manus does offer some comic moments, with Siff also doubling as a holy roller out to save Maggie’s soul; George decoding the Jack in the Beanstalk tale to Bill as a Marxist allegory; and Irwin at one point insisting that Maggie replace him with a non-Jewish lawyer, to which Maggie retorts, “We can’t afford a gentile.”
Donlan’s mostly halfhearted performance in the pivotal role — due either to faulty direction or the faulty script — doesn’t allow Maggie to seize the spotlight, something the real Madalyn Murray O’Hair seemed to thrive on. Manus’ conclusion, however, is both chilling and timely; he reminds us that the vilification heaped upon Maggie and other iconoclasts like her from right-wing “Christers” is still out there and stronger than ever.
Write Act Repertory at the Brick House Theatre, 10950 Peach Grove St., N. Hollywood; Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 3 p.m.; through Nov. 13. https://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/5573882. Running time 100 minutes, with a 15-minute intermission.
