The Christian Brothers

‘Where but to think is to be full of sorrow / And leaden-eyed despairs’ (from Ode to Nightingale, Keats, 1819). It’s from the poem discussed at the start of this play, yet that verse’s themes of mortality, pleasure and nature are barely discussed. Instead, there is a discourse on the poet’s name and the definition of an obscure word, both delivered with unwarranted aggression to the student.

The Christian Brothers were started by Edmund Rice in Ireland, the order growing from a single school to educating across 29 countries, being properly established in Australia from 1868. The schools became particularly popular in the 1950s, with generations educated through this authoritarian system.

The play was written by Ron Blair, opening in Sydney in 1975 – and its fiftieth anniversary has prompted Peter Goërs to direct a production he’d been promising with his friend Robert Cusenza, since they saw it together in the late 1970s.

Cusenza is the Brother, ever present in front of a blackboard, a teacher’s desk – and a leather strap always at the ready. The students are there in spirit, one particularly errant boy represented by a wooden chair.

The Brother takes us through a day in the life of a 1950s teacher at one of their schools: lessons on poetry, history, the French language, each punctuated by a bell that would pause everyone for prayer, reminding them that their spiritual needs were most important.

As a stern teacher, Cusenza’s face is taut, serious, and always looking for the disobedience, wrong answer, or really any excuse to reach for his leather strap and initiate punishment to the student. It’s a teaching style that has been unacceptable for a long time – and illegal for over two decades – yet there would have been many in the audience where they would have been reminded of that sharp pain as the bully slaps the leather against the chair.

Cusenza convinces us that he is a committed Brother, rigidly adherent to the rules; yet when he breaks his authoritarian stance for a minute, explaining his path to becoming a Brother, there are glimpses of humanity, emotions and needs unmet. Goërs’ direction does not allow the audience time to feel more than a moment of sympathy before we’re shocked back to his cruelty.

When Blair wrote the play, it was reported that it was as a catharsis to an education he hated, yet this is a more nostalgic presentation of an individual struggling with his vocation, his ability to teach, and above all, his faith. The revelations of widespread physical and sexual abuse within this particular system weren’t made known for another twenty years, so it shouldn’t be expected that this play looks at that beyond the corporal punishment that was ‘of its time’. Yet it feels disingenuous to present something so respectful of that system with the benefit of that knowledge.

Review by Mark Wickett

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