Stage Review - Proof (inD Theatre)

Stage Review - Proof
Presented By: inD Theatre - Bainbridge Island , WA
Show Run: May 02 - May 18, 2025
Date Reviewed: Friday, May 02, 2025 (Opening Night)
Run Time: 2 Hours (plus a 15 minute intermission)
Reviewed By: Greg Heilman

I’ve always heard the phrase “art imitates life”, and thought, well, of course it does. We write what we know, we write things, no matter how fantastic, that we believe audiences will relate to, in fact they need to, or else the author, or playwright, will never make a connection, and will never succeed in keeping folks engaged in their work. The quickest way to lose an audience is not to win them over in the first place. As a result of this, every successful, book, television show, movie, musical, or play, has at least some elements that feel relatable, characters or situations that are either directly or adjacently resemblant to real life. Every once in awhile, though, a play comes along that feels like it was written as though its writer has had some way of gaining intimate knowledge of your life, and makes you feel that what is transpiring on stage is a direct reflection of what is happening, or what has happened, to you, at some point. Enter Proof, the 2000 play by American playwright David Auburn, which is currently on stage at Rolling Bay Hall on Bainbridge Island in a production from inD Theatre and directed by Steve Lambert. There’s no argument that the play is a good one, it did win Auburn the 2001 Pulitzer Prize and the Tony for Best Play, and I’m sure both have a lot to do not just with its subject matter, but also the relatability of it. All good plays are constructed in layers and Proof is no different, dealing simultaneously with the correlation between genius and mental illness, family dynamics, including inheritance and legacy, sexism in academics and science, and the overarching theme of trust vs. doubt.

The story in Proof takes place shortly after the death of mathematician Robert, a genius who had spent the last portion of his life fighting a dementia-related mental illness, and being cared for by his daughter Catherine, who gave up her own potential career in mathematics to stay home with him. Catherine seems to have inherited her father’s penchant for math, but also his tendency toward mental illness, something that seems to be at the forefront of her mind as she tries to deal with her father’s passing. After Robert dies, one of his graduate students, Hal, begins spending time going through his teacher’s notebooks, trying to see if there might be something worth saving, some last spark of genius that he may have written in between all of the scribbles. Other than one day’s worth of a journal entry, a day Robert described as a “good day” along with the explanatory details, there isn’t much to go on, until Hal finds a mathematical proof in a locked drawer, a proof whose author is in doubt. This proof is at the heart of one of the many layers of the story, and it’s also behind the double meaning of the play’s title. Of course, it refers to the mathematical proof in question, but it also refers to the idea of proof as it applies to the evidence, or lack thereof, about the author of said proof, doubt which is cast by Catherine’s sister Claire, who has flown in from New York for the funeral. Claire is also the sister who doesn’t think that people want to be depressed around a funeral, so she plans to invite her old friends over to the house for a party following the burial. She’s also got plans for Catherine as well, plans that Claire believes will help to get her little sister’s life back on track, but with little understanding, or care to understand, what Catherine wants or needs, leading to a conflict that feeds into the doubt, the lack of trust, over Catherine’s claim about the proof. Meanwhile, Claire is so adamant about her opinion that Hal can’t help but consider it, which puts in jeopardy the new relationship that he and Catherine have found themselves in. So, yes, there’s a lot that Proof covers, and the way that David Auburn has structured it, each aspect, each layer, gets the precise amount of time it needs to be dealt with in the most human way possible, from the depiction of an intelligent man spiraling into the heartbreaking abyss of dementia, to the conflict between the sisters when one has been there taking care of their father while the other has been largely absent, but still feels entitled to be judgmental toward the caregiver, and to the idea that there’s no reason a woman’s ability, or opinion, should be second-guessed, based simply on her gender. These, of course, are only a few of the layers I keep talking about, but with so many there could be tendency to bounce back and forth, or have a play that feels packed, but Proof doesn’t.

As I watch members of my extended family, intelligent people that I would consider to have above average intelligence slipping into the darkness of dementia, and as I watch one of their children provide the kind of care that Catherine does here for Robert, including putting their own life and ambition on hold, with a sibling that always seems to bring everything back to them, and I watched Proof this past Friday evening, I honestly felt like I was watching a part of my life being presented to me on stage. Kudos to David Auburn for capturing this, and kudos to Steve Lambert for guiding this production and his cast for delivering every laugh, every gasp, and every heart-wrenching moment and this very human show.

Proof is simply presented, and inD Theatre always chooses shows that fit well into the Rolling Bay Hall black box space, a venue that doesn’t allow for set changes and their associated pieces moved on or off stage. This isn’t to say there aren’t scene changes in the show, there are, the play itself does do some time jumping in Act 2 between present day and key memories from Catherine’s and her father’s pasts. But given the simplicity of the set, and Steve Lambert’s overall vision, those changes are just a matter of clearing props and actors changing positions, the long pole in the proverbial tent being costume changes, but even those are done fairly quickly. The point of all of this is to say that, as a result of the simplicity of how Proof is presented, and how it works within its space, the pace of the show is steady, and in something that deals in a heavy emotional currency, that is extremely important.

Given the simplicity of the presentation, the focus is on this cast of four actors, and what they’re able to do in bringing these characters to the stage is exceedingly impressive. The beginning of the play sort of leads you along, making it seem like it’s going in one direction until all of a sudden it turns. It turns in an unexpected way, a way that makes you believe immediately that you’re in for something special. It’s Catherine’s birthday, and she’s facing down her father’s funeral the next day when Harold Dobbs appears from upstairs. Harold, Hal, for short is perusing her father’s notebooks, looking for something, anything that will keep his mentor’s legacy alive. As Catherine, Mia McGlinn is superb, she challenges Hal, played smartly by the versatile Seamus C. Smith, accusing him of wanting to steal the notebooks, to take them and claim whatever he can find in them as his own. It’s an emotional time for Catherine, of course, and as we see through the play, she’s a lot stronger than anyone, especially herself, gives her credit for. She’s just turned 25 and has given up her own dreams to stay and take care of her father, bathing him, dressing him, and all the while making sure that he could live out his life at home. The way that Mia describes this is so emotional, so human, it’s as if she brings the audience into the soul of her character, and into the heart of Robert. She’s also honest about her father, and his mental state, while Seamus’ Hal won’t hear of any sort of mental impairment, convinced that the notebooks must contain something of substance, something of clarity, which is probably why, when he does find something, something that Mia’s Catherine points him to, he can’t believe that anyone other than Robert would have written it, despite what his daughter claims.

While Catherine was spending her early twenties taking care of her father, her older sister Claire had moved to New York, ostensibly to chase her own dreams, but when she arrives the day before Robert’s funeral, it’s clear that perhaps she wouldn’t have had the tools or the patience to be a caregiver to her father. Clearly, in the way Meredyth Yund plays Claire, the older sister is more inclined to put herself first, as evidenced by her behavior when she first arrives, how she puts a priority on organizing a party after her father’s funeral rather than the funeral itself, and generally in how she treats her sister and the actions she takes on Catherine’s behalf without consulting her. She’s self-centered, disrespectful, and at times downright mean, especially to Hal, when it appears he’s getting too close to Catherine. And to say that Meredyth and Mia play these characters with a good deal of accuracy is an understatement, they’re personalities with behaviors that many of us have had experience with, and their relationship as siblings in a time of stress is all too familiar.

Relationships are a big part of Proof. It starts with that between Mia’s Catherine and Robert, played in flashback by Peter Cook. Peter’s delivery is actually quite enchanting, his voice is smooth, but full, he knows when to speak in a whisper and when to increase the volume to project more authority, when to be tender with his daughter, and when to be firm. And his portrayal of a man unable to comprehend his descent into the void that becomes his consciousness as a result of his dementia is not just spot on, it’s just about perfect, with the right balance of fear, confusion, and certainty. Peter doesn’t quite have the time on stage that his castmates do, but when he is in a scene, he draws the audience’s attention into his performance, almost hypnotically. Mia, as the twenty-something daughter is step for step with Peter in their scenes together, their father-daughter relationship clearly one with a foundation of love, but also one built on a common interest in mathematics, displayed in the way they communicate, through formulas and figures. It’s a relationship Claire could never have with him, and it’s one that is also presented in the design of the show, specifically Dawn Janow’s costume design. I appreciate how, regardless of the time of day, or year, the clothes that Robert and Catherine wear seem to complement each other, stylistically and chromatically. This is in contrast to Claire, who arrives in clothing that is more metropolitan in design, or on the morning after her party, when she shows up in a hoodie and velvet pants. The costumes that Mia and Seamus wear are also coordinated in their color palettes, if not their designs, something that also highlights their characters’ relationship, one that feels serendipitous, but also one that is tested, and one that comes under fire from Claire’s family-first attitude. I know I’ve been discussing all of the heavy things that Proof tackles, and there is a decent amount of that, but David Auburn has scattered some humor throughout, and that’s one of the things I love about how Seamus portrays his Hal, the humor he brings to it. Perhaps his best quality in this regard is in his ability to say something, realize it wasn’t the right thing to say, and react. We all can relate to those situations, but Seamus captures those moments astutely.

Proof, the David Auburn play with the double entendre of a title, is a heavy hitter. Dealing with the sacrifices some make in order to take care of loved ones with dementia, as well as the sacrifices others don’t make, family dynamics before and after the death of a parent, trust in a relationship when every shred of evidence is contrary, and the struggle to overcome sexism in a technical field like mathematics in order to earn even a nugget of credibility, it tackles a lot. This just scratches the surface of the multiple layers put together to build this play, but at its heart, Proof is really about relationships, what we’re willing to, or not to, sacrifice for them, what level of respect we bring into them, and to what extent we allow ourselves to accept our partners at face value, with or without…proof. It’s a superbly written piece, but the inD Theatre production excels because of its cast of four actors and the vision of its director Steve Lambert. Proof is meaningful, it’s real, it’s heartfelt, and it’s human, and it’s very, very good.

Proof, presented by inD Theatre, runs on stage at Rolling Bay Hall on Bainbridge Island through May 18. For more information, including ticket availability and sales (tickets are pay what you want), visit https://www.indtheatre.org/.

Photo credit: Abby Wyatt Images