Theatre in Review: Permission (MCC Theater/Lucille Lortel Theatre)Robert Askins continues his one-man comic crusade against the excesses of evangelical Christian culture in Permission. This time, the author of Hand to God takes on CDD, or Christian Domestic Discipline, a movement in which married couples accept what they see as the Biblical injunction that places the husband at the head of the family, with the wife in a submissive role; in one of its more controversial aspects, CDD allows husbands to spank their disobedient wives. Askins applies this philosophy to a pair of Waco, Texas couples and then stands back to observe the often uproarious consequences. Permission begins with a dinner party so fraught with undertones that it is doomed to end in chaos. Zach, who runs an athletic gear store, and Michelle, an attorney for the city, are hosting their friends Eric and Cynthia. In contrast to their go-getting hosts, Eric and Cynthia are distinct underperformers. He has become the acting head of his college's computer technology program, but holds little hope that the permanent position will be his. She is supposed to be writing a novel, but really her days consist of sleeping late and drinking wine from a box while binge-watching episodes of Matlock. The two couples attend the same church, but their marriages appear to be in very different states of repair. Thus, while Zach is extolling the virtues of Bible studies CrossFit, which purports to tone up your soul and body simultaneously, Eric makes a snarky comment about Cynthia finding something to fill her long, empty afternoons. "I could dust your dolls," she replies, pointedly. "They're action figures," he answers, through clenched teeth. Meanwhile, things are a bit tense between Zach and Michelle; following a couple of her tart comments, he makes hand signals that suggest she has first one, then two strikes against her. When Michelle forgets to put the gluten-free rolls in the oven -- Cynthia has multiple food issues -- Zach asks his wife to retire to the kitchen. A minute later, a startling reveal of the kitchen set shows Michelle lying across Zach's lap, her skirt up and her husband wielding a spatula. Eric and Cynthia flee the dinner in a state of shocked hilarity, but, before long, they're mulling it over. Eric is especially nonplussed to hear from Zach that their embrace of CDD was Michelle's idea. When Eric next erupts in anger over Cynthia's slovenly housekeeping style, they try a little experimental spanking. It is not lost on Askins that what appears to be a Gospel-inspired reinforcement of traditional sex roles is in fact role-playing of another, rather more erotic sort. Soon, Eric is locking Cynthia up for the morning, demanding that she deliver ten pages of her novel by noon. (After all, they rationalize, Leonard Woolf did the same thing with Virginia.) And his frequent application of corporal punishment, usually at her invitation, is livening things up in their bedroom to no end. Permission isn't as dark or probing a comedy as Hand to God, which includes scenes of savage violence and asks tough questions about the church's ability to deal with the reality of basic human impulses. Instead, it's an expertly crafted farce about one way of spicing up a dull marriage. Alex Timbers' direction deftly orchestrates the action through its wilder passages, as another dinner party slips into a competitive discipline session that becomes a would-be orgy followed by a violent free-for-all. Timbers' handling of a talented cast is equally skillful. Justin Bartha amusingly charts Eric's transition from Bible-bred milquetoast to roaring monarch of the household, boldly announcing inspirational passages to one and all. ("Hey, is that The Lion King?" Zach asks, correctly, after one of Eric's more obstreperous pronouncements.) Lucas Near-Verbrugghe capture's Zach's strutting self-satisfaction, especially when gathering everyone around for a prayerful accounting of life's blessings; feeling crossed by Michelle, he turns each clause of a simple line ("I love her, I love her, I love her,") into a mounting bill of indictment. Elizabeth Reaser, in her second hilarious performance this season at MCC (after The Money Shot), is wickedly on-target as Cynthia, whether filling a wine glass so full she must bend over and sip before carrying it precariously to her mouth, or informing an interloper, with some asperity, "We are not Christian swingers. We are Christian spankers." Nicole Lowrance's Michelle is a wiz at showing who is boss, even when bending over to take her punishment. A new face, Talene Monahon, gets right into the spirit of things as Eric's student assistant, who wouldn't mind joining the household as Michelle's "sister wife." David Korins' set design is a clever bit of spatial sleight of hand, using two sets of wagons to reveal Zach and Cynthia's dining room and kitchen, plus Eric's office, his and Cynthia's living room, and a bit of their house's exterior. (The latter set is oddly detail- and clutter-free, however; did the designer run out of time or money?) David Weiner's lighting amusingly includes a set of purple revolving cross patterns projected onto the set during the intermission. As the New York Times has reported, costume designer Paloma Young had to work extensively at finding padding that protected Reaser and Lowrance from bruising; she also earns laughs when we see the post-CDD Eric and Cynthia, him in a flattering suit and her in a '50s-style day dress. M. L. Dogg's sound design is perfectly solid. Given the many ridiculous situations in which these characters become embroiled, it's interesting that Askins doesn't patronize them. Just as there is a deep empathy at the core of Hand to God, Permission regards its foolish people with a surprisingly fond eye. By the end of the play, they are starting to realize that God doesn't always immediately reward those who put their trust in him and that some problems lack for simple answers. The time has come to put away childish things, which can only mean that things are looking up. -- David Barbour 
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