ongoing – Sun. Feb. 3

    I saw “Sister Act” on the coldest night of the year, after a root canal and I really needed some diversion. So, the stakes were really high. And the sisters delivered. The play - up at the Opera House through Sunday Feb. 3 -  is based on the 1992 movie that starred Whoopi Goldberg and does a marvelous job transitioning to the stage.

   The plot goes like this: It’s 1978 and disco reigns in Philly. Wanna-be diva, singer Deloris Cartier (Ta’ Rea Campbell) accidentally witnesses her married boyfriend, crooked club-owner/mobster Curtis Jackson (Kingsley Leggs) murder an informant. She flees to the police, one of whom is an old high school friend, Eddie (Clayton Cornelius) who’s always had the hots for her. He convinces her to be put in a convent for her protection. Needless to say, Mother Superior (Hollis Resnik) is not pleased with the new sister who must give up her sequins and thigh-high go-go boots for a habit (or penguin suit as Deloris puts it).

     Meanwhile, the church is struggling financially and the nuns can’t sing for their supper.  All that changes of course when Deloris whips the choir into disco-driven divas, Money starts pouring into the church and Monsignor O’Hara (Richard Pruitt)   becomes as smooth as Barry White.

    But wait. Curtis’ trio of thugs is tracking Deloris and their search has brought them to the parish. Will Deloris’ dream of singing under a disco ball be shattered? Will the nuns have to give back their sequined habits? Well, I won’t spoil the ending, but here are a few reasons to see this play.

      1) Campbell’s non-stop energy, gorgeous, soulful voice and all-over bodaciousness.

      2) The stunning solo “The Life I Never Led” by postulate Mary Robert (Lael van Keuren).

      3) Eddie – nicknamed “Sweaty Eddie” by his cop pals – delivering a little Saturday Night Fever, via “I Could Be That Guy,as his police uniform transforms into the infamous three-piece white suit.

      4)  Mother Superior singing an unexpected and beautiful “Here Within These Walls” with grace and dignity. http://boston.broadway.com/buzz/166957/sister-acts-hollis-resnik-on-loving-her-feel-good-musical-and-being-inspired-by-mother-superior-maggie-smith/ 

    5) The nuns singing and grooving to the beat, decked out in their sequins and bling.

   “Sister Act” may not be Shakespeare, but it’s a fun way to jolt you out of the winter doldrums. It ends Feb. 3 so Sunday is your last chance for a last dance. Amen.

      - Roza Yarchun

   That was my wife’s take. She’s a nice Jewish girl. I’m an ex-Catholic boy, which is to say I grew up Catholic with nuns all around me – two of my great aunts donned the habits and lurked at family gatherings – and, of course, there were the stereotypical stern, mean-ass nuns of Sunday and parochial school lore. If you’ve read one story, you’ve heard ‘em all. None of them are nice or don’t include rulers across knuckles and riddles like “Who made you?” (A: God made me.) If you wanna hear a great song about this little world, here’s the Dead Boys’ “(I Don’t Wanna Be No) Catholic Boy.” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qsAKRATKRd4

   And so, with my background, I had a different set of thoughts I brought to the table (well, the theatre) but had, like my wife, a pretty darn enjoyable night. For many of the same reasons she wrote about above. But the pleasure came somewhat unexpectedly. I’d not seen the original movie or its sequel, by choice. There was too much of a groan inducement, just in the set-up. Yeah, I get it: stuffy and sexless old nuns discover rhythm and soul and get hip. The punch line seemed telegraphed and cornball. And in theory, it is – haven’t we all seen way too many theatrically wacky nuns, going back (in my world) to Sally Field’s “Flying Nun”?

      But this touring version of the Broadway play (written by Joseph Howard, directed by four time Broadway Tony-winner Jerry Zaks, lyrics by Glenn Slater, book by Cheri and Bill Steinkellner, choreography by Anthony van Laast) has layers to it, little subversive bits of reality-based digs crammed into the overall zaniness and the high-spirited music. Yes, these are digs at the Catholic Church and, especially the cloistered life of these most chaste of God’s servants. They’re not Christopher Durang dark by any means. But they brought a smile. And one of the subtext these bits raised is this: What a colossal waste of time it is to pray all day, when there’s a world to be relished or saved or people to help. That you’ve really got just one life we know of – well, maybe that’s the idea of Catholic faith, wait to see what God’s got in store for you when you’re  lucky and die – and you’re spending yours in dreary seclusion. When the nuns find out Deloris is indeed not a nun like them – when she comes in, the story concocted is that this black girl in a sea of white is a transfer – they’re shocked, and disappointed. They’ve been lied to, betrayed. (Catholics love to be betrayed.) But then they realize that as much as she’s in a position to save their parish (she’s brought in people who see the show, as it were, put fannies in the pews) they’re in a good position to put those Jesus-y morals into practice. You know, comforting the afflicted and all that. Nice lesson, that.

    There’s also something appealing in the way the nuns’ music is transformed. Before Deloris, they sing rote, somber, off-key hymns, dull as dirt, inspirational to no one. They suck, the songs and the singers. These sort of things I remember from my church-going days of yore. While it’s absolutely implausible these nuns could magically transform into this rich and soulful disco choir – hey, suspend disbelief, right - just the idea that worship could have this kind of electricity about it  … Well, it brought me back to the time when I discovered the world of Southern Baptist soul (Al Green and those kind of singers and fervent services) which were 180 degrees from the stoic and deadly rituals I witnessed week after week. (I’m not making any claim for any religion here; I’m agnostic. But the idea that a service should have some oomph and joy in it, yes, that I like.)

     There is a false moment at the end when the Pope makes a Philly appearance, catches the singing nuns and gives his Pope wave of approval. Hey, the Popes would be happiest if the Mass were still in Latin and the priest’s back faced the parishioners. The big guy in Rome – no matter who wears the silly hat – would not countenance this kind of merriment. But no matter. We out in the crowd – the parishioners on this cold January evening – dug and went home smiling. As my wife noted, it ends Sunday and as there is no Super Bowl you're free to go out to either show.

     Night shows at 7:30 Wed-Thursday, 8 Friday and Saturday. Matinee at 2 Saturday and 1 Sunday with Sunday’s closing performance at 6:30. Tickets: $150-$15.

539 Washington St., 800-982-2787 www.broadwayinboston.com