Everybody’s Got A Secret

This review contains spoilers for the play Covenant.

From start to finish, ArtsWest’s Covenant was never what I expected it to be. It begins as a fairly standard family drama in 1930’s Georgia: sheltered, innocent Avery (Simone Alene) wants to leave town with charismatic yet mysterious guitarist Johnny (Donovan Mahannah), but Mama (Felicia Loud) and her pious Black-church values won’t approve. The show foreshadows its ominous tone from the start, especially through the narration of neighbor Ruthie (Kaila Towers), but that eeriness is initially masked by punchy humor and charming small-town colloquialisms.

And then the first lantern comes out.

These “lantern scenes” were the keystone of the show: monologues where characters would spill their disturbing pasts––their secrets––directly to the audience, in total darkness except for the dim lighting of a single lantern. The show’s suspense culminated in these scenes, and the stark, intimate staging of director Nicholas JaPaul Bernard was a perfect balance to the weighty payoffs they granted. The grave tonal shift of the first lantern scene felt as if the rug was pulled from under me. The tone of the show rapidly darkens following it––Avery leaves town and the show’s focus shifts to her younger sister Violet (Deja Culver) as she, Ruthie, and Mama cope with Avery’s prolonged absence. Violet’s increasing frustration and Mama’s desperate prayers saturated the theater in dread. Culver and Loud ceased to be actors; they completely disappeared into their roles, magnifying every ounce of tension until finally, Avery and Johnny returned.

In the last third of the show, hell literally broke loose. Covenant managed to depict the all-too-common religious terror of believing in an ever-present Devil and an indifferent God. Avery was haunted out of her mind and no one could do anything about it. As a practicing Christian, the show knew exactly how to make me uncomfortable, framing the verses, hymns, and prayers that I believe in as powerless against a palpable, looming despair. But the things that made me want to look away were what ultimately drew me in; a masterclass in presentation. Trevor Cushman (lighting designer) and Madelyn Zandt (sound designer) had my pounding heart in the palms of their hands. With blood-red backdrops and howling wind, they made sure every scene had your senses on edge, anticipating what comes next with no room to look away. The combination of lighting and sound characterized each individual on stage, literally demonizing Johnny, as shadows and haunting guitar melodies followed him wherever he went. And narratively, so did pain, misfortune, and mystery. The show spent its ninety-minute runtime painstakingly building suspense for the most worthwhile payoff. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much worthwhile about it.

It so happened that Johnny was innocent the whole time, which we only find out after Mama shoots him dead and Avery doesn’t get any better. Because of the expert misdirection, this twist has the potential to be delightfully rewarding. However, it all depends on how they answer the question: who really made a deal with the Devil?

Ruthie did. The narrator. To prevent Avery from marrying Johnny, she asked the Devil to bring Avery back home because she and Avery secretly had feelings for each other. This could work in concept, but here’s the thing: Ruthie and Avery interacted twice. Briefly. No amount of subtle setup to make that reveal believable, or even thematically appropriate, could change the fact that it was incredibly unsatisfying. Surprising, sure, but a twist for the sake of being a twist is cheap.  I have no issue with the twist that Johnny was innocent––that twist was satisfying because the play spent almost its entire runtime making me wonder what Johnny’s secret was. I never once wondered about whether Ruthie and Avery were more than friends because it was barely clear they were friends. I felt let down that the play went straight for a flashy reveal without taking the time to make it meaningful to the narrative beyond it simply being unexpected.

Covenant’s most obvious strength was its presentation––the show used lighting and sound to manipulate the tone and uplift the stellar acting performances. But I felt that the show sometimes over-relied on its presentation, prioritizing style over substance. The moments with the strongest atmosphere didn’t always have the strongest message. At most, they illustrated the consequences of secrets, but it commonly seemed like the strength of the themes took second place to the jaw-dropping execution that the play was going for.

But for a story fixated on supernatural contracts and higher powers, Covenant had a secret: its most impactful element was its grounded, heartbreaking depiction of a daughter and mother estranged by hurt and hypocrisy. This broken relationship between Violet and Mama was the heart of the play, carrying home its themes better than any loud demonic possession. No dramatic lights, no music, just painful conversations over a dining table. It’s fitting for a story about the dangers of secrets that Covenant’s best moment would be out in the open.

Lead photo by John McLellan.

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