Faith Healer

28 October 2016 | 10:29 am | Mick Radojkovic

A well-worn revival of a play that raises the idea of perception but ultimately illustrates both the necessity and danger of having hope.

Perception: it's something we all have, but can struggle to interpret and explain. Faith Healer, by the late Irish playwright Brian Friel, goes a long way toward portraying perception and human nature, live on stage, as a single narrative is revealed through the subjective psychological prisms of three individuals.

The play opens with Welsh incantations recited out of pitch darkness. As the lights brighten, we see a worn, rugged, but dapper Colin Friels playing the part of the 'fantastic' Frank Hardy; faith healer extraordinaire. This is a complex and troubled character full of subtle dichotomies. Ignorant or Inspired? Mean or miraculous? We are introduced to Hardy's nomadic life through the countryside of Ireland and Scotland, seemingly in the 1940s, where he plies his 'performances' to hopeful locals in need of assistance where hope has been all but lost. Hardy's talents sway between illusion, delusion and confusion, but we start to piece together a picture of a man that is as frustrating as he is charismatic. 

Friels' delivery is mesmerising. A half-hour monologue could easily be tedious, but the quality of the script and the proficiency of the actor shine as we wind our way through musings on his 'healing' powers that both define his confidence and reveal the fragile man beneath. 

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A subtle set change and we welcome Alison Whyte, portraying a woman whose very life essence has been tested by the man she loves, to the stage. We quickly see that one person's perception can differ wildly to that of their partner as we are taken on a parallel journey to the first monologue, with eye-widening revelations along the way. Whyte's take on the role of Hardy's 'wife' (again, depending on perception), Grace, starts on a similar path, but we quickly find ourselves realising that Hardy is not the man we first thought. 

The third wheel, so to speak, is that of the likeable cockney manager, Teddy. Played beautifully by Pip Miller, the third monologue sees more pieces of the puzzle fall into place. However, there are still gaps left behind, none of this trio of competing perceptions totally reveal the whole story. Miller strolls around the stage, opening beer after beer, effusing his passion for managing acts from pigeon whisperers to bagpipe-playing whippets. There is, however, something about Hardy's 'act' that he can't walk away from. Is it his love of Hardy and his healing or is it his love of the mistress? 

This third monologue, delivered in a convincing East London accent, is the funniest and most assured of the three. We learn more truths about Hardy, his relationship with his lover and his craft and also why he attracts people. Hope is a powerful thing, but any power is dangerous when it's relied upon. 

Throughout the play, certain places, scenes and descriptions are repeated to remind us that we are listening to the same story from different vantage points. This clever method of storytelling translates into a whodunit of sorts as we head into the ultimate conclusion, spoken by Friels. The final monologue, shorter than the others, wraps up the story from the faith healer's perspective, but by now our perception of this character is utterly changed; we take his words with a grain of salt.

This production, expertly directed by Judy Davis, is partnered with a realistically clouded backdrop designed to recreate the melancholy climate of the storyline. The use of light, silhouette, music and simple props perfectly combine with the acting so as not to overshadow the plot. The actors were cast brilliantly in this well-worn revival of a play that raises the idea of perception but ultimately illustrates both the necessity and danger of having hope. 

Belvoir Theatre presents Faith Healer to Nov 27