Idle hands are the devil’s workshop quite literally in Robert Askins’ Hand to God, an irreverent hybrid of Dr. Jekyll and Mr Hyde, Avenue Q and The Beaver in which a demonic sock puppet called Tyrone takes over his creator Jason (Steven Boyer) leading to chaos. The play is mostly set in a church basement, “somewhere in Texas”, where widowed mother Margery (Geneva Carr) teaches high schoolers how to make their own puppets. Her workshop seems to be quite ineffective, at least judging from the people she ended up with: the cynical Jessica (Sarah Stiles), airhead jock Timothy (Michael Oberholtzer), and her son Jason who seems to be there merely because he has nowhere better to be, or because he needs the ride home afterwards.
The rather quiet Jason is the constant target of insults by Timothy, and fails to defend himself instead relying on the help of Tyrone, who little by little seems to be getting out of control. When Margery is asked by Pastor Greg (Marc Kudisch) to put on a show for the church, the naughty puppet reaches its tipping point and refuses to let go of its owner’s hand, leading to the one line that sums up the essence of the show. As Jason/Tyrone trash the basement and almost rip Timothy’s ear off, Pastor Greg and Margery discuss the solutions, leading a very confused Jessica to ask “shouldn’t we call 911?” This moment marks a divide in which we’re invited to pick a side: are we on the side of reason or on the side of faith? But things aren’t as simple as they seem, for if we choose reason we are left wondering where to reach out for solace and comfort as everything else seems to fail. And if we pick faith, we have to wonder: are science and reason tools sent by the creator in order to reward our faith?
For all its outrageousness and crassness, Hand to God is not a simplistic play. It goes for the important questions without ever attempting to provide an answer, and as such, it’s one of the most affecting works of personal self doubt to be put onstage in the last decade. One could choose to only concentrate on the show’s comedic elements (and it is nothing if not hilarious) but its beauty lies in the moments between puns and witty dialogues; it's in the pauses and moments of silence where we see the characters’ humanity shine through.
Moritz von Stuelpnagel’s direction brings out the very best in the actors, with Boyer giving a spectacular performance that will certainly be talked about for years to come for its physicality and affecting, precise anger. Stiles is lovably droll, and for a character who expresses that he may not know much about life other than when it comes to erections, Oberholtzer is able to find Timothy’s heart past the hormones. Most affecting of all is Carr who portrays Margery as a woman who is always on the brink of exploding. It’s heartbreaking to see her realize how her life has amounted to so little despite her best intentions; the brilliant actress knows exactly when to sigh, when to smile and what pauses to give to her lines so they seem like mirrors showing us our own pain. When she declares that “love is a dangerous pile of shit”, we realize that whether demonic spawn or mental illness, Tyrone is on all of the characters’ hands as much as he is on Jason’s. For a play that appears to be so cynical on the surface, Hand to God, actually makes us want to reach out to the person sitting next to us.
