Condola Rashad is an African-American woman onstage with a company of men, most of them white. This works perfectly with the sense of isolation and uniqueness felt by Saint Joan. She is like no one else. A girl from a rural community, she feels compelled by the voices of Saint Margaret and Saint Catherine to drive the English from France, and have the dauphin (Adam Chanler-Berat) crowned at Rheims. At first, few believe her, but when they meet Joan, they must admit that she has something special. What a splendid idea to have the first of her many converts, Robert de Baudricourt, played by Patrick Page, the distinguished actor who brings veritas and grandeur to every role he undertakes. Here, it’s evident that Joan is meeting a nobleman who considers her beneath his station and not worthy of his valuable time. But when, bare-chested, he listens to the ragamuffin with the tousled hair and faded red dress, he decides on the spot to give her money for her cause and write her a letter of recommendation. Then, self-consciously, he covers up. And so it begins. As Joan, Rashad is pure, confident, magnetic, and not incidentally, tall enough to at least equal in height the men around her. When she meets Charles, the would-be king, she’s determined to make a man out of him. It seems a daunting task. He’s reticent, feeble, unimpressive. He too comes to feel the power of Joan’s reverie, and vows to no longer be bullied by his courtiers, to whom he owes money. Rashad is ably supported by a top-notch cast. John Glover brings a calm wisdom to the Archbishop of Rheims. Daniel Sunjata, handsome as always, is engaging as Joan’s staunch friend, Dunois. It’s a joy to see director Walter Bobbie back on the boards as Cauchon, Bishop of Beauvais. Some of the problems of the production are endemic. Shaw, uncut as the play is here presented, bogs down too much with repetition and circular arguments; at nearly three hours, the production is just too long and drags in the long stretches when Rashad is not onstage. The epilogue seems silly and extraneous, except for the final moment. With a few exceptions, the costumes look cheap and thrown together at the last minute. The huge organ pipes which constitute the scenery are more effective at some times than at others. The speech is inconsistent; it becomes difficult to differentiate the English from the French, as there’s no standard way of speaking within the different nationalities. French words are butchered throughout, so that Rheims becomes “reems.” But when Rashad is on stage, nothing else matters. She has major Velcro; you cannot take your eyes off her. When it finally dawns on her what her immediate fate will be, she’s suddenly just a young girl again, terrified of facing the flames. She crumbles, then recants with a monologue that brings tears to the eyes; to never feel the wind or see the sun is a fate worse than the stake. Saint Joan has been and will be presented many times. But it’s impossible to imagine anyone more suited to the role than the bright shining star of this production, Condola Rashad.
