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Supernatural Powers Finds Herself Dealing With Family Dysfunction Of Biblical Proportions Misha Berson "The Second Greatest Story Ever Told" by Bernadette Flagler. Directed by Mark Gallagher. Thursday-Sunday through July 11 at Annex Theatre, 1916 Fourth Ave. $10. 206-728-0933. Surviving a normal adolescence is hard enough. Poor 16-year-old Susej has a few additional problems to cope with. Like the bloody stigmata that keep appearing on her palm. And that scary little trick of turning wine into water. And how about those familiar-sounding homilies and prophecies she can't help spouting at her new best friend - an extremely friendly neighborhood newcomer, whose last name happens to be Iscariot? In Bernadette Flagler's unwieldy but inspired dark comedy, "The Second Greatest Story Ever Told," 16-year old Susej (played with a winningly supernal glow of nice-girlness by Morgan Rowe) comes to the reluctant conclusion that she might just be, well, something of a messiah. This makes her martyrdom inevitable. But the double whammy is that even with supernatural powers and divine providence, Susej can't bring salvation to her own biblically dysfunctional family. Wacky, irreverent, full of theological wordplay ("Susej," in case you haven't figured it out, is more than just a birth-certificate typo), and yet sincerely engaged with some potent spiritual questions, "The Second Greatest Story Ever Told" makes a good fit for the intrepid Annex Theatre, which is now mounting the play's world premiere under the direction of Mark Gallagher. That's not to say that the Washington, D.C.-based writer's parable achieves a constant state of grace. Like too many recent plays with semi-mythic, surrealism-in-the-suburbs premises, this one kicks off strongly only to flail later. It's enough to make you want to send these emerging playwrights to architecture school, to learn how to build sturdier second stories. Still, one can't help be tickled by and feel for the plight of Susej and her clan - thanks to the affection behind the caricatures, both in Flagler's writing (this is a much gentler fantasy of the Second Coming than the one played out in Peter Barnes' savage film, "The Ruling Class") and in some of the acting. (The show also benefits from an askew, pastel cut-out design by Sam Elias and Patrick Rogers, that brings to mind the look of "The Simpsons.") As Susej's blowsy drunken mother Martha, the riveting Sarah Rudinoff can be hilariously dipsy and still pack a lifetime of bitter disappointment into the line, "They say no two snowflakes are alike. Don't you believe it, Susej - they're all alike." Joshua List resists hammier impulses to make Susej's bible-thumping minister father Joe a rather sad glad-hander, who truly hungers for spiritual redemption and family reconciliation. If only his competitive religiosity and all-too-human failings didn't get in the way . . . As the wisecracking, closeted gay brother Christopher, George Weiss-Vando provides not much more than standard gay comic relief. But he does puncture the household's cheerful hypocrisies with sharp one-liners from time to time. And as Susej's best gal-pal Mellisa Munson (a k a Judith), gets stuck in shrieky-reaction mode, particularly when the plot starts going haywire. Actually, the point of Flagler's resurrection fable grows cloudier and more belabored as Susej plods toward her personal Armageddon. Especially in an attenuated family encounter-at-dinner scene, and in some vaguely paranoid business involving government agents, there's tedium exactly where there should be mounting zaniness and insight. What does emerge from the chaos, though, is an understanding that not even the best-intentioned, most loving daughter can purge an entire family's (and civilization's) misery - even with help from above. In the end, Susej simply can't convince her loved ones that the kingdom of Heaven lies within them. And that's a cruel loss of innocence if there ever was one.
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