Smoke on the Mountain
In the theater, satire and religion are as cozy as Satan and sin. No sooner do you hear a hearty “Can I get an ‘Amen’?” than you begin to anticipate Elmer Gantry–esque acts of hypocrisy. So, it’s not until a few songs into this charming revue of Appalachian-tinged gospel that a thought dawns: Oh, they’re serious. Smoke celebrates old-time values and old-tyme music, interweaving folksy monologues with rousing renditions of gospel favorites.
That’s not to say that Smoke eschews all satire. Set in a Baptist church in 1938, this plot-light, music-heavy revue pokes the gentlest of fun at human foibles—smugness, intolerance, parochialism—while unapologetically celebrating the power of God’s love. Playwright Ray weaves it all together with the loosest of plots: The Sanders Family Singers hold a concert at a rural Baptist church; personal histories and deeply held philosophies are revealed. The premise provides just enough character and backstory to add resonance to Ray’s lineup of traditional songs and save the proceedings from preachiness. And thanks to Ray’s sharp writing, it’s often laugh-out-loud funny.
Gregory and his remarkable company mine the material for all it’s worth. His skilled actors craft nuanced, sympathetic characters while accompanying themselves on a dizzying array of instruments (check out the multitalented Amber Burgess on guitar, piano, violin and mandolin). From Susan Moniz’s smug matriarch to Alex Goodrich’s beaming, eager preacher to Jeff Harms’s haunted ex-con, each character is engaging and rich. Add accomplished musicality (refreshingly unmiked) and a simple but lovely set design, and you’ve got yourself one foot-stomper of an evening.
