To the offstage strains of Gounod’s “Ave Maria” sits Roxanne Fay robed in blue from head to toe before a pure white background. She looks like a painted Renaissance Madonna. After a momentary cover-all blue light stops, along with the music, the dramatic Mary pulls off her robes. Continuing in brown trousers and a black top, she appears as a modern woman--and an angry one at that.
In The Testament of Mary, it’s some years after Mary’s son Jesus has left earth. As usual, a few evangelists are visiting her. They are hoping she will tell more about him. She refuses to say anything to promote the idea that he was the Son of God or that the religion being fostered in his name will change the world for the better. She tells about Jesus‘s life and hers from his childhood through to his crucifixion. Where her memories don’t agree with the gospels, she insists on her truth because, she says, “I was there.”
From her perspective, Mary eloquently (because she’s not the often-celebrated restrained, unassuming, silent woman) describes several of her son’s miracles. Her account of the turning of water into wine at Cana is different. It’s not his first miracle. Instead, that’s raising Lazarus from the dead and both were accomplished in tandem without any input from her.
One time when Mary hardly recognized Jesus, because he seemed better dressed and more powerful, she says he shunned her. Maybe it was for her protection? Safety concerns even made her miss being finally at the cross, though they didn’t stop her noting in exquisite detail all that led up to her son’s last moments. Recounting these, Roxanne Faye’s voice deeply conveys Mary’s emotions, remembered and present. Since Jesus’ death, Mary has continually saddened at his acquiescence in what she obviously thinks is his myth of being the Redeemer. She scorns the fellows who followed him as well as present followers. Mary wants “time pushed back.” One might say that’s what Colm Toibin wanted to do with his play. Roxanne Fay achieves that end in a forceful way.
