John Patrick Shanley, a name synonymous with both whimsical romance and profound drama, finds himself in a remarkable moment of artistic confluence. As a playwright who effortlessly navigates between laughter and introspection, Shanley is experiencing a rare trifecta this season. While a celebrated revival of his early work, “Danny and the Deep Blue Sea,” captivated audiences, and his new play, “Brooklyn Laundry,” opened to intrigue Off-Broadway, it’s the Broadway revival of his Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award-winning masterpiece, “Doubt,” that places John Patrick Shanley firmly in the spotlight once again. This resurgence underscores the timeless relevance of Shanley’s exploration of uncertainty, morality, and the human condition, themes deeply embedded in “Doubt.”
This interview delves into the enduring power of “Doubt,” a play that continues to captivate audiences with its nuanced portrayal of faith, suspicion, and the elusive nature of truth. Speaking from his perspective as a seasoned playwright, John Patrick Shanley offers insights into the play’s origins, its themes, and its surprising resonance in today’s world, where doubt seems to permeate every facet of society. From his Catholic upbringing to his observations on societal shifts, Shanley reveals the layers of meaning within “Doubt,” solidifying its place as a modern classic.
Alt text: Playwright John Patrick Shanley quote about sermon preference during Mass, highlighting Catholic influence on his dramatic work, relevant to Doubt.
Rob Weinert-Kendt: I’ve heard other creative folks who grew up Catholic say that the Mass was the first kind of theater they saw. How did growing up Catholic influence you as a dramatist?
John Patrick Shanley: Well, my favorite part of the Mass was always the sermon. It was structured in two parts: They would tell a story from the Bible, and then they would talk about the story, what it meant. I always loved the stories from the Bible, and always took issue with the interpretation of what they meant—I basically wanted to get up and give my own sermon on what that story was really about. And guess what? In “Doubt,” I got to do it.
This formative experience within the Catholic Church significantly shaped Shanley’s dramatic sensibilities. He recalls being particularly drawn to the sermon, a structured narrative followed by interpretation – a format mirroring the essence of playwriting itself. The Bible stories, rich with moral ambiguity and complex characters, sparked his critical thinking, igniting a desire to offer his own interpretations. This early engagement with religious storytelling and its inherent layers of meaning laid the groundwork for plays like “Doubt,” where interpretation and perspective are central to the dramatic tension. Shanley’s plays often echo the sermon’s structure, presenting narratives ripe for analysis and leaving audiences to grapple with their own interpretations of truth and morality, a defining characteristic of “Doubt.”
Father Flynn’s homilies in “Doubt” are indeed great monologues—it almost seems like you’d practiced the form.
My mother wanted me to be a priest, and it was because of the sermons. She said, “Boy, you could give some sermon.” I never had any interest in becoming a priest, but it was a matter of great pride for a family at that time.
The idea of Shanley becoming a priest, fueled by his mother’s recognition of his sermon-giving potential, adds another layer to the Catholic influences evident in his work, particularly in “Doubt.” While he never pursued priesthood, the theatricality and rhetorical power inherent in sermons clearly resonated with him and found their way into his playwriting. Father Flynn’s sermons in “Doubt” become pivotal moments, serving not just as religious instruction but as dramatic devices that reveal character, advance the plot, and, crucially, embody the very ambiguity at the heart of the play. They are performances within the play, mirroring Shanley’s own early fascination with the sermon as a form of storytelling and persuasion.
Do you have any clergy in your family?
My father had two sisters who went to Australia to become nuns. He saw them last when they were 17, 18 years old, and then he saw them as old ladies in nuns’ habits. Can you imagine the shock of that? And there was another Sister, Mary Kate. I’m not sure of how we were related, but she would come and visit sometimes. She was basically nuts.
Shanley’s familial connection to the clergy, through aunts who became nuns, further illuminates his understanding and portrayal of religious figures in “Doubt.” His anecdote about his father’s shock at seeing his sisters transformed into nuns decades later highlights the profound commitment and life-altering choices inherent in religious vocations. This personal connection likely informed his desire to move beyond simplistic portrayals of nuns, aiming for a more nuanced and human representation, as seen in the complex character of Sister Aloysius in “Doubt.” Even the mention of a “nuts” Sister Mary Kate hints at a realistic, unromanticized view of religious life, contributing to the authentic and multifaceted portrayal of the Catholic school setting in “Doubt.”
I know you’ve talked about how one of the things you wanted to do in “Doubt” was to show nuns as something more than silly caricatures and to give tribute to these women you feel gave so much.
Yeah, they were very committed to social justice, which was not known to me as a child. I learned that later because when I did “Doubt” I went and spent time with them. They were the happiest old ladies I ever met, and I believe it was because they devoted their lives to serving others.
Shanley’s explicit intention to move beyond caricatures and offer a tribute to nuns is central to understanding his approach in “Doubt.” He emphasizes their commitment to social justice, a dimension often overlooked in stereotypical portrayals. His research for “Doubt,” involving spending time with nuns, revealed them as “the happiest old ladies,” a surprising insight that he attributes to their lives of service. This perspective directly informs the character of Sister Aloysius, who, while seemingly rigid and authoritarian, is driven by a deep-seated sense of justice and a desire to protect her students. “Doubt” becomes, in part, a nuanced tribute to these women and the complex roles they played within their communities, moving far beyond simplistic or negative stereotypes.
Alt text: Amy Ryan and Liev Schreiber performing in Doubt on Broadway revival, showcasing lead actors in key roles, central to Doubt’s renewed stage presence.
You were a famously ornery student; I read that to get a rise out of your teachers, you told them you didn’t believe in God. If it’s not too personal a question, how do you feel about God now?
I believe everything and its opposite. And I mean that in passionate terms. I think it is through the utter commitment to opposites that one is capable of having a divine experience, a spiritual experience. As soon as it becomes linear and uncontradictory, it is no longer a spiritual experience.
Shanley’s youthful rebellion, expressing disbelief in God to provoke his teachers, contrasts intriguingly with his later exploration of faith and doubt in his plays. His current perspective – believing “everything and its opposite” – encapsulates the very essence of “Doubt.” He suggests that true spiritual experience arises from embracing contradiction and paradox, moving beyond simplistic, linear understandings of faith. This philosophy is deeply embedded in “Doubt,” a play that resists easy answers and thrives on the tension between opposing viewpoints. The play itself becomes an embodiment of Shanley’s belief system, forcing audiences to confront ambiguity and find meaning in the space between certainty and uncertainty, the core dramatic engine of “Doubt.”
I won’t ask the status of your Catholic practice, but I do want to ask if you follow news about the church, and what you think of Pope Francis. Is he leading a church you recognize?
I certainly read the stories about the growing division between the American Catholic church and the world church, and the areas that are important to the church, like Africa, that Francis is trying to encourage and nurture, and the warring factions that he’s dealing with. I’ve watched all of that, and I think his role has become increasingly problematic, of being an ex cathedra authority, the voice of God on earth. That’s harder and harder to maintain. I mean, I think that he’s a better pope than the last two popes before him. His intentions are pretty good. I feel like there are two parts: One is the political pull to see how far he can move the church from the orthodoxies of the past, but then he doesn’t want to lose everybody by going too far in any direction.
Shanley’s observations on the contemporary Catholic Church, particularly regarding Pope Francis, reveal his ongoing engagement with the institution that profoundly shaped him and the world of “Doubt.” He acknowledges the complexities and challenges facing the Church, including internal divisions and the difficulty of maintaining papal authority in a rapidly changing world. His nuanced view of Pope Francis – recognizing his good intentions while also noting the “problematic” nature of his role – mirrors the balanced perspectives he presents in “Doubt.” Just as “Doubt” avoids simplistic judgments of its characters, Shanley offers a complex assessment of the Church, acknowledging both its potential for positive change and the inherent tensions within its structure. This intellectual honesty and willingness to grapple with ambiguity are hallmarks of Shanley’s writing and central to the enduring power of “Doubt.”
As a playwright and screenwriter, you’re known mostly for love stories about passionate, seemingly mismatched people coming together against the odds. But you also have plays like “Doubt” and “Defiance” and “Storefront Church.” Did “Doubt” feel like a departure from your usual when you wrote it?
I don’t think it felt like a departure at the time. But I did not feel that I was talking about my personal problems in the play. It had more to do with society and with how I see things, which is that you can’t know. You can’t know the truth of another person. And guess what? You can’t even know your own truth. The extent to which we lie to ourselves is so breathtaking, why even bother to worry about whether somebody else is telling the truth? You can’t even be certain, even in the throes of your deepest convictions, that you’re telling the truth. Because we deceive ourselves.
Despite being known for romantic comedies, Shanley sees “Doubt” not as a departure, but as an extension of his broader artistic concerns. He emphasizes that “Doubt” is not about personal issues, but about societal truths and his fundamental belief in the unknowability of truth itself. This core theme—the impossibility of knowing another person’s truth, or even one’s own—permeates “Doubt” and transcends the specifics of its plot. The play becomes a meditation on the limits of human knowledge and the pervasive nature of self-deception. This philosophical underpinning elevates “Doubt” beyond a simple drama of accusation, transforming it into a profound exploration of human perception and the elusive nature of reality, making “Doubt” a play that resonates far beyond its immediate context.
I’ve heard that you’ve told the actors playing Father Flynn what the truth of his character is—i.e., did he or didn’t he abuse young Donald Miller, which the play never definitively resolves. Is that a secret you keep close to the vest, and is it going to the grave with you?
No, I talked to Brian F. O’Byrne when he first played the role; we just talked about the backstory of the character. Then Brian began to tout that on closing night, he would reveal the truth. A reporter asked me about that and I said, “That’s all well and good, but I lied to Brian.” And that was the end of that. I also talked to Phil Hoffman when he played the part in the movie. Whereas I think Brian probably took what I said, Phil appeared to take what I said, but he was such a brilliant actor and an opaque human being that who knows what the hell he was playing?
Shanley’s playful revelation that he “lied” to Brian F. O’Byrne about Father Flynn’s truth underscores the central ambiguity of “Doubt.” He confirms that there is no definitive answer to the question of Father Flynn’s guilt or innocence, even in his own mind as the playwright. This deliberate indeterminacy is not a flaw, but the very core of the play’s power. By withholding a definitive answer, Shanley forces audiences to confront their own biases and assumptions, engaging actively in the process of interpretation that the play dramatizes. The performances themselves, as Shanley notes with Philip Seymour Hoffman’s portrayal, become part of this ambiguity, further blurring the lines between perception and reality, and solidifying “Doubt’s” thematic focus on uncertainty.
Of course, that indeterminacy seems to be the key to the drama.
I think the key to the play is that you can’t know. It’s very difficult for people to accept that. If you’re going to be an effective human being in a social situation, you are going to have to proceed as if you do know when you don’t and hope for the best that your instincts are correct. But there is a price for doing that. It is a necessary activity, and there is a price for it.
Shanley explicitly confirms that indeterminacy is indeed “the key” to “Doubt,” emphasizing the discomfort this uncertainty creates for audiences. He argues that navigating social life requires acting as if we know things we cannot truly know, a necessary but inherently flawed human condition. “Doubt” dramatizes this very dilemma, showcasing the “price” of acting on incomplete information and the ethical complexities of making judgments in the absence of certainty. The play’s power lies in its ability to mirror this fundamental human struggle, prompting audiences to reflect on their own reliance on assumptions and the potential consequences of acting on “knowledge” that may be, at its heart, just doubt.
“Doubt” had many inspirations, but I’ve read that one was the story of a relative you knew who had been molested by a priest.
It was a bunch of different things. One of the things was that I wrote it during the run-up to the invasion of Iraq, which we were doing because there were weapons of mass destruction. I kept waiting for the evidence that this was true, and it kept not being there. And this reminded me of another time in my life. I thought back to the neighborhood I was in, where everybody pretty much shared a worldview and a set of religious beliefs, and how underneath that certainty there was an earthquake, a social earthquake, going on, and everything was going to change very, very soon. And nobody realized that. One situation reminded me of the other.
Shanley reveals the multifaceted inspirations behind “Doubt,” connecting the personal with the political and societal. While acknowledging a personal connection to the issue of priest abuse, he highlights the crucial influence of the lead-up to the Iraq War. The absence of evidence for weapons of mass destruction mirrored for him a broader societal phenomenon: a façade of certainty masking underlying seismic shifts and uncertainties. This connection between personal trauma and political deception deeply informed “Doubt,” making it not just a play about individual suspicion but a broader commentary on the dangers of unchecked certainty and the importance of questioning authority, even in the face of seemingly unwavering conviction. The play’s setting in 1964, on the cusp of societal change, further emphasizes this theme of impending upheaval beneath a surface of apparent stability, a key element in understanding “Doubt’s” enduring relevance.
Yes, I remember that “Doubt” felt very much like a Bush-era play, in that you took seriously Sister Aloysius’s position of authority, her need to act, but also questioned her rigid certainty. The line that stuck out to me was, “When you take a step to address wrongdoing, you move away from God, but in His service.” Every clause in that sentence is fighting the others, and it feels like the nub of the drama.
That is one of my favorite lines in the play.
The interviewer’s observation that “Doubt” felt like a “Bush-era play” resonates deeply with Shanley’s stated inspirations. The play’s nuanced portrayal of Sister Aloysius, acknowledging both her authority and her potential for flawed certainty, directly reflects the political climate of the time, marked by questions of authority and the justification for action based on uncertain intelligence. The line, “When you take a step to address wrongdoing, you move away from God, but in His service,” perfectly encapsulates the play’s central thematic tension: the paradox of acting morally in a world shrouded in uncertainty. Shanley’s affirmation that this is one of his “favorite lines” highlights its importance as a key to unlocking the play’s complex moral and thematic landscape, making it a crucial point of focus for anyone seeking to understand “Doubt’s” enduring power.
How does it feel to watch the play now? Is it speaking differently to our current moment?
I feel like we’ve changed; the audience has changed. When we first did the play, there was a much higher degree of complacency in our society—we felt we didn’t have to worry about certain things, things were taken care of, in an institutional sense. Now nobody feels that way. So now the whole audience walks in wracked with doubt; I don’t have to do anything to get them to that place.
What I’ve found is that the audience is listening to the play in a different way. They are right there with it in a more powerful way than they were the first time we did it. What that means, I don’t exactly know. But I do know that the people in that room are more bound together by the play than they used to be. They used to be more at odds with each other. Now I feel like they’re huddled together on the same side in that sermon at the beginning.
Shanley reflects on the changed audience reception of “Doubt,” attributing its increased resonance to a societal shift from complacency to pervasive doubt. He argues that contemporary audiences, unlike those in 2004, are already “wracked with doubt” when they enter the theater, making them more receptive to the play’s central themes. This shift in audience perception enhances the play’s power, creating a sense of collective engagement and shared understanding. The audience, once potentially divided by differing interpretations, now feels “huddled together,” united by the play’s exploration of uncertainty. This evolving audience reception underscores the timeless and increasingly relevant nature of “Doubt,” solidifying John Patrick Shanley’s position as a playwright who speaks directly to the anxieties and uncertainties of the modern world. The continued power of “Doubt” lies in its ability to reflect and illuminate the ever-shifting landscape of human experience, ensuring its place as a vital and enduring work of dramatic art.
