Earlier this week I saw a new play on Broadway: High, by Matthew Lombardo. My intention was to review it for this magazine. This morning, however, I read in the Times that High will play its final performance on Sunday. So what follows is more of a eulogy. Still, I don't want to miss the opportunity to comment on the show, because for all its shortcomings, it is a rare and valuable thing: a serious new play that takes religion seriously.

High is not really "about" religion; it is about addiction and recovery, forgiveness, pride, coping with pain, seeking redemption. But religion is part of how its characters face these challenges. The playwright understands that faith is not always defeated by suffering; that, in fact, pain and prayer are natural partners. The play does not apologize for the fact that its characters pray. No one winks at the audience to say "Of course, we're not taking this God stuff seriously." It's an adult play familiar with the role religion can play in an adult's life, and as such it is a refreshing experience. That's not to give the impression that High is feel-good spiritual tonic. It's freighted with pain (perhaps too much so), and it asks difficult questions that it doesn't attempt to answer neatly. The central character of High is a Catholic sister, played in this production by Kathleen Turner. (Hard to imagine? Decades ago, perhaps, but I assure you she cuts a plausible figure in sensible nun-clothes now.) Sr. Jamison is an addiction counselor at a church-run facility, St. Francis, justly proud of her excellent record there (and frank about her own struggles with alcoholism). As the play begins she receives a new charge: a particularly hopeless drug addict, nineteen-year-old Cody (Evan Jonigkeit), recommended to her care by Fr. Michael (Stephen Kunken), the administrator of St. Francis. The rest of the play is a three-way struggle: Sr. Jamie doesn't want the job, since she knows Cody isn't committed to getting clean; Fr. Michael has his own motives for wanting to protect the boy; Cody is battling more demons than can fit comfortably into a single drama.

The script falls short of its ambitions, especially in Sr. Jamie's frequent soliloquies, which are never quite as profound as they want to be. Turner makes the most of every speech, but it's in her scenes with the two men that the character of Sr. Jamie comes alive. She spars with Fr. Michael, she swears at Cody, and she dresses like any contemporary sister would, in sneakers and neat, comfortable clothes, with a simple ring on her finger and a congregational pin on her lapel. (What congregation, she doesn't say.) The script doesn't spend much time tiptoeing around the set-apartness of vowed religious persons, and Sr. Jamie in particular has no patience with "What's a nice nun like you doing in a job like this?" silliness: when Fr. Michael, noting her late rising, asks whether she didn't have to get up early "in the convent," she scoffs, "No, and we didn't make bread and cheese for the townspeople." Sr. Jamie, in an attempt to reach Cody and propel him toward "the next right step," teaches him to pray the rosary. It's a moment that might have come across as corny, but -- credit to playwright Lombardo and director Rob Ruggiero -- it's believable and moving. "How's it feel?" Sr. Jamie asks Cody. "Stupid," he replies. "Good," she says. "That means you're doing it right." The Act of Contrition comes up later, along with the sacrament of Reconciliation -- and still, no snickering or pious posturing. The gift of prayer, offered sincerely and simply by Sr. Jamie and accepted by Cody in desperation, outlasts even Sr. Jamie's commitment to Cody's well-being.

High is not a love letter to Catholicism -- the playwright, himself a former addict, was raised Catholic, and so it's a natural enough context for the "miracle" story he wants to tell. But playwright and creative team respect the faith, and the audience, enough to get the details right. When Fr. Michael vests for Mass while talking to Sr. Jamie, he puts on all his vestments in the right order -- even kissing the stole before he puts it on, but more importantly, putting it on underneath the chasuble, something "priests" in movies and onstage almost never manage to get right. I've come to see the stole-outside-the-chasuble look as the badge of carelessness in everything from Law & Order to Sister Act (both the film and the new Broadway show, which I also saw this week). There's nothing careless about the way High approaches religion, and it helps that the play doesn't attempt to resolve the tension between faith and disappointment, doubt, and difficulty.

So why the early closing? Money. Broadway is not an easy place for serious plays to survive. (Even serious musicals can have a hard time.) It's simply too expensive: the ticket prices are too high, and the production costs are enormous. High got some positive reviews (particularly for Turner's performance), but it would apparently have needed unqualified raves (along the lines of "Drop everything and see this show!") to keep it afloat. I can't honestly give it that kind of endorsement, either. It's not, in the end, a great play, and I'm not sure the big houses (and prices) of Broadway are the best place for intimate dramas in any case. But it is a worthy effort, moving and thought-provoking. Turner's performance is strong and memorable. And if you are looking to see a show between now and Sunday afternoon, its themes make it a very good choice for Holy Week.

Production photos by Joan Marcus.