October had just reared its unmistakable pumpkin head when, on a brisk Saturday night, I headed to see Theatre Intime’s production of Samuel Hunter’s play, The Harvest. It was fitting, I thought to myself, that just as the leaves began to turn I was going to see a play with a title that evoked a delightfully autumnal vibe. I subsequently remembered a brief Google search of the play’s synopsis from earlier that day, quickly squashing my hope for an ode to fall and twee-ness. However, I remained intrigued by its real plot—a meditation on Evangelism, repressed emotions, and personal turmoil (clear parallels to The Real Housewives of Salt Lake City, now that I think about it).

I claimed my comp ticket and snagged a seat in the back left corner of the theater. Immediately, I was amazed by the scenic design—it was intricate and packed with religious imagery, while retaining a distinctly realistic and lived-in quality. The entire play takes place in a church basement, which the set emulated immaculately through a semi-claustrophobic atmosphere. Crosses were ever-present, in literal representation above the middle of the stage and in a variety of sketches which adorned the walls. Bags and bowls and everyday belongings were scattered throughout the stage. Everything was purposeful, suggesting the lives of characters soon to be brought to life. 

The show itself was entrancing, and unnerving. The Harvest is set in southeastern Idaho, centering on a group of prospective evangelical missionaries, intent on proselytizing their beliefs when they travel to their vaguely indicated destination in the Middle East. The play explores each of their inner conflicts and buried insecurities in the days leading up to their departure. The first scene, wherein the missionaries participate in an intense session of praying in tongues, is an abrasive introduction that traps the audience in this theatrical environment. Each actor held equal weight on stage, made possible by a stunning belief in their nuanced characters and the world they created together. Both cast and crew had total commitment to the production, a synergy only found in a unique unification of wildly passionate and talented people (Lights team—I’m still gagged). They presented a certain kind of theatrical vulnerability that could’ve made even the great Patti Lupone shift in her seat uncomfortably. That is to say, it begged the audience to actively engage rather than observe from an arm’s length. When the characters onstage cry out in unison, you are forced to live in their reality, you have to accept the painful truths they represent. It encouraged the audience to open up to the possibilities of this vulnerability! It was theater at its best: an unflinching distillation of human understanding.

Later that night I got to thinking (my obligatory Carrie Bradshaw-ism) about the links between the play’s subject matter and the medium of theater itself. When Josh, one of the missionaries, meets with his estranged sister, she struggles to understand the reason for what seems to her to be misguided religious devotion. The two underwent a traumatic upbringing that led to a split in their adolescence, and Josh later found solace in piety through a friend already involved in the church. While the play makes clear the moral issues that can arise within religious saviorism, it also doesn’t scorn characters like Josh for seeking refuge in the church. However, by the end of the play, Josh decides against dedicating his life to missionary work, and the chronic dishonesty and hypocrisy within Evangelist missions is unveiled. The play thereby finds fault with the greater institutions to which people experiencing personal strife can become unhealthily attached. The Harvest attempts to push the audience away from an initial instinct to judge and ridicule what we don’t understand, and guides them towards the serendipitous possibilities that lie in trying to explore another’s perspective.

Perhaps as intrinsic to theater as inter-cast drama or Sutton Foster is an unspoken level of judgment from others. It’s often not pointed toward the concept of theatrical performance itself, but rather the people it attracts, often characterized as egotistical, over-earnest, or cringeworthy. And yes, they can be all of those things! But the theatrical arts are also a safe haven, a release from the social boundaries of society and an excuse to be a freak (in a normal way). Paws up, you know?! 

In this sense, theater is comparable to a religious release: the stage is an altar and Sondheim is gospel. Obviously, the severity of this devotion relative to religious communities is quite different, but the underlying sentiment of judgment of the individual from outsiders is the same. It’s this unbridled commitment to something that makes people uneasy. Christie Davis ‘27, director of The Harvest, writes in the program that this spiritual connection found in theater is a result of the medium being “alive with human beings who act as symbols for other human beings, in all their imperfect, unsolvable complexity.” What The Harvest intends to give its audience is a means by which to empathize with each other’s complexity, leaving me with one simple thought: God, I love theater!