'Grand Inquisitor': Peter Brook's Forbiddingly Cross Examination

It is Seville, in the time of the Spanish Inquisition, and Christ has returned. The people, overcome, fall to their knees. But the Cardinal Grand Inquisitor, who has just overseen the burning of 100 heretics, harbors no such feelings of gratitude or Rapture.

"Is it you -- you?" the cardinal asks. "Why have you come to disturb us?" he demands, indignantly. "Because you do disturb us!"

And so commences the provocative lecture -- on the consolations of organized religion for a human flock craving the sustenance of hope -- that the nihilistic cleric addresses to Christ in "The Grand Inquisitor." This short, unadorned monologue, adapted from a story within the story of Dostoevski's novel "The Brothers Karamazov," makes its North American debut through tonight at the University of Maryland's Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center.

What gives this event heft is the fact that its director is the widely revered theater practitioner and theoretician Peter Brook, whose ascetic approach to text is on patented display here. Nothing gets in the way of the words -- not even the actor, Bruce Myers, who gives the cardinal's 50-minute discourse in a long black coat and a fixed expression of sober condescension.

As in the painting by a reductive master, who pares down his technique to a relatively few brush strokes, Brook's interventions here are exceedingly modest.

The starkness of the surroundings -- a squarish, carpeted platform, a stool and a small wooden box on which sits a silent, sphinxlike Jesus (Jake M. Smith) -- adds to a sense of the stripping away of holy secrets. The evening unfolds, then, as a rather sere vehicle for contemplation. It's a result that one would not exactly call electric.

That "The Grand Inquisitor" has been rolled out first in this country in an academic setting -- it moves to off-Broadway later this month -- seems a good choice. The notion of a prince of the church giving Christ the lowdown on how things have transpired, spiritually, for man since His time on Earth raises many interesting topics for classroom discussion. Students of philosophy and literature will find the most to chew on here. Strict theater adherents, though, might conclude that the story has not been completely liberated from the page.

The adapter, Marie-Helene Estienne, has removed all trace of the context for the story. In "The Brothers Karamazov," the tale of the extraordinary meeting is told by the cynical Ivan to his godly brother Alyosha. Presumably, the desire in this instance is for us to watch and listen to "The Grand Inquisitor" as a modern parable. In essence, the aged cardinal is depicted as looking upon Christ's return as an event that can only sew discord for the church, which has worked so hard through the centuries to pacify and reassure mankind with fanciful tales, false hope and strict guidelines. Or, as he puts it: "miracles, mystery and authority."

The accusation that the cardinal levels at Christ is that in rejecting temptation and investing so ardently in man's free will to choose between good and evil, He doomed humanity to confusion and misery. The church, he says, has long been trying to rectify these indulgences. Patiently, Jesus -- whom the Inquisitor has had arrested and is now threatening to burn at the stake, too -- sits through the torrent of words.

But stoicism should not be mistaken for passivity. In the evening's most potent moment, Smith's Christ stands and delivers his response, a sign that nothing he's heard -- this is, after all, a church that has resorted to slaughtering people -- has changed his perspective.

The ruminations of "The Grand Inquisitor" do manage to echo in one's ears, if only in ways that too quickly fade away.

The Grand Inquisitor, adapted from Dostoevski's "Brothers Karamazov" by Marie-Helene Estienne. Directed by Peter Brook. Lighting, Philippe Vialatte. About 50 minutes. Through tonight at Clarice Smith Performing Arts Center, University of Maryland. Call 301-405-ARTS or visit http://www.claricesmithcenter.umd.edu.