This theatrical masterpiece, adapted from the book by John D’Agata and Jim Fingal, transcends the confines of the stage to unravel complex sociological, psychological, moral, and professional issues inherent in the pursuit of truth.

The production stars David Herman as Jim Fingal, Denise-Aiko Chinen as Emily Penrose and Danny O’Brien, Jr. as John D’Agata.

At its core, “Lifespan of a Fact” grapples with sociological implications, particularly within the realm of media ethics. The play delves into the ethical considerations that underpin journalism, questioning how the media influences public perception and the potential consequences of misrepresentation. In an era marked by the rapid dissemination of information, the societal trust in the media becomes a focal point as characters navigate the blurred lines between fact and fiction, contemplating the impact of their decisions on the public’s trust in journalistic integrity.

The psychological landscape of the play is a rich tapestry that weaves together the intricate threads of subjectivity and objectivity. Characters in “Lifespan of a Fact” grapple with the inherent challenges of balancing personal biases and perspectives with the objective pursuit of truth. The play probes the depths of cognitive dissonance as characters confront conflicting information, forcing them to reconcile divergent truths and confront the uncomfortable realities of their own beliefs.

Moral quandaries permeate the narrative, serving as a compass that guides characters through the tumultuous sea of journalistic responsibility. Central to the drama is the theme of integrity and honesty, as characters face decisions that force them to choose between upholding the principles of fair reporting or succumbing to external pressures and interests. The play presents a nuanced exploration of the impact of disseminating inaccurate information, highlighting the implications of the potential harm inflicted on individuals’ lives.

The professional landscape depicted in “Lifespan of a Fact” offers a glimpse into the complicated world of journalism, where the pursuit of truth is laden with responsibilities and challenges. The play confronts the fundamental journalistic responsibility of verifying facts, maintaining accuracy, and navigating the delicate balance between editorial decisions and artistic expression. As characters grapple with the tension between fact-checking and the creative process, the drama sheds light on the conundra faced by those involved in the production of news and literature.

Emily Penrose, portrayed by Denise-Aiko Chinen, embodies a synthesis of diverse editorial personas with whom Fingal and D’Agata shared collaborative experiences. Conversely, it is imperative to underscore that the narratives chronicling the lives of these two men are rooted in actuality and authentic occurrences.

The play opens, as a picture frame rests upon Emily’s desk. We assume it contains a photo of her family, serving as a symbolic representation of personal and emotional connections. The presence of the family photo is a reminder of the human aspects of life, contrasting with the factual and objective nature of the central conflict in the play regarding the verification of facts. It adds a layer of depth to Emily’s character and emphasizes the tension between subjective personal experiences and the objective pursuit of truth in the narrative. The picture frame becomes a symbolic touchstone for the themes explored in the dramedy.

Subsequent to the theatrical presentation, the actors engaged in a post-performance discourse, colloquially referred to as a “talk back,” wherein they delineated their sentiments regarding the characters portrayed and responded to inquiries posed by the audience.

I asked the three actors: “If I were an essayist reviewing your performance today,” (which actually, I was), “would you rather be flattered or told the truth about a critic’s evaluation?” Chinen said she wanted the cold hard truth. Herman said he preferred to be flattered. O’Brien said he’d enjoy hearing diverse reactions to his performance. I am quite happy to oblige.

I posit that Chinen’s portrayal leaned towards a character along the lines of “The Devil Wears Prada,” yet her inherent charm proved too compelling to portray a shrew. Her execution displayed a subtle misalignment in timing. The dialogue, replete with an over-abundance of profanity, failed to convey a seamless integration, leaving an impression that Chinen grappled with a degree of discomfort in employing such explicit language. Overall, the profusion of expletives served to diminish the hermeneutic strength of the performance, rendering it excessively melodramatic. Noteworthy was Chinen’s discernible wince preceding the utterance of f-bombs, a revelation that this linguistic choice did not align with her customary mode of expression. Additionally, an ever so slight hesitancy underscored the delivery of expletives, akin to the nuanced pauses that echo the brevity of a hemidemisemiquaver. As a former concert pianist, I notice these things.

Unacquainted with Chinen, I undertook a perusal of her background. Evidently, she serves as a Japanese interpreter within the precincts of the Hawaii Judiciary. My intuitions were affirmed; the utilization of such language within the confines of a court of law would ostensibly invite punitive measures, leading one to the perilous realm of contemptuous conduct and the potential consequence of incarceration. I posit 34 nights in the pokey can’t be fun. Of course, I wouldn’t know if anyone were ever sentenced to 34 nights for contempt of court, because I tend to be quite obsequious in the presence of a jurist, I just like the sound of 34. Apologies to the triantatesseraphobics. But I digress. If Japanese be Chinen’s native language, that presents another conundrum. In Japanese, the use of explicit language and swear words is largely absent compared to some Western languages like English. There isn’t a direct equivalent to the English word “f***” or its variations used before a word for intentional vulgarity. Japanese is known for its elaborate system of honorifics and politeness levels. The use of different pronouns, verb forms, and expressions is influenced by the social hierarchy, the relationship between speakers, and the formality of the setting. I just cannot suspend my belief that this adorable, petite and flowerlike actress ordinarily converses with such filth in every other sentence.

David Herman demonstrated exceptional proficiency in this dramedy, beautifully showcasing the breadth of his capabilities as an actor. Renowned for his engagements in musicals, where the narrative is principally propelled by melodic elements rather than the nuances of acting, Herman remarkably embodies the persona of an enterprising young man freshly graduated and poised to triumph over the world. His impeccable timing significantly advances the trajectory of the performance. Regrettably, my anticipation faltered during a particular scene where he found himself exiled to a closet. Upon his emergence, I had anticipated an outrageous response something akin to “OK, folks, I’m out of the closet now,” accompanied by a snap.

John D’Agata, personified by Danny O’Brien, Jr., also found himself exiled from the inner sanctum to the exterior confines of his abode. While parting with him evoked a sentiment of melancholy, the spectacle of his departure proved to be a source of visual appreciation. Danny expressed a modicum of dissatisfaction concerning other productions, wherein D’Agata “was allowed to wear clothes…”This sparked an inquiry which surfaced within me: why conceal one’s inherent assets? The habiliment of pajamas worked great for me. O’Brien was the strongest actor in this production, which perplexed me, because I can’t find his theatrical credits anywhere online. He clearly has mastery of his craft.

The overall examination of Manoa Valley Theatre’s season is problematic. Commencing with “Sweeney Todd,” the narrative unfolds around a barber who, in a macabre fashion, murders his clients before repurposing their remains into culinary fare. Subsequently, “Clue” offers a compendium of methods to murder dinner guests with a disregard for consequences. “Lifespan of a Fact” delves into the somber theme of individuals meeting their demise through various means, including suicide. “Dear Evan Hansen” revolves around a lying sociopath pretending to have been a friend of a classmate who committed suicide. “Death of a Salesman” centers on the tragic death of the main character, Willy Loman, being a pivotal event in the play. Although I have never seen it, “Tenderly, The Rosemary Clooney Musical” is hoped to refrain from exploiting the iconic singer’s drug addiction and suicide attempt in the early 60s. “Happily Eva Afta” appears to be a compilation of fairy tales, purportedly presented in pidgin, although it’s essential to note that Hawaiian dialect is, in fact, a creole rather than a pidgin. The playwright, Lisa Matsumoto, involved in a dull-witted incident in 2007, was driving her Toyota Camry on Interstate H-1 in the wrong direction when she crashed into innocent victims. Her autopsy revealed a significant blood alcohol content of .242, surpassing three times the legal limit of .08, as reported by the Medical Examiner’s Office. Lisa Matsumoto’s egregious behavior is right up there with Harvey Weinstein, Bill Cosby, Kevin Spacey, Lance Armstrong, and Roseanne Barr.

What contemplations guided the script committee’s discernment as they curated this assemblage of morbidity? Was Samuel French having a clearance sale? Enough people died during Covid. We do not require an additional annum steeped in despondency.

The lady situated behind me succumbed to crying during the attack scene, uttering expressions such as “I can’t take this anymore,” “This is too much for me,” and “I gotta get out of here.” However, being ensconced in the midst of an extensive row, she hesitated to disrupt the surrounding audience amidst a scene permeated with profound anguish. The precise catalyst for her emotional upheaval is unknown to all. Numerous dialogues within the narrative delved into the familial response to the explicit details of suicide of their young son. According to some psychologists, the loss of a child is the worst pain a human can suffer. Combine those subjects with the offensive language, I can see how someone could get triggered.

The histrionic obsession with fact checking seemed very foreign to me. I’ve been writing for about 40 years, and I never experienced anything remotely close to this trainwreck of differing opinions. CBS News was my most demanding media outlet, but they never had a fact-checker challenge any of my articles. As far as I know, I’ve only had one fact-checker audit me in four decades, and that was when I accused a highly-ranking official of criminal activity. The publisher added rebuttal from the official in the same article, but never redacted any of my work.

The big question in this show is “Do you want to know the truth, or do you want to be told what you want to hear?” Does the truth matter? Can we ever really know what “the truth” is?

My post-doctoral degree is in anthropology. My favorite influential writer was Clifford Geertz. Geertz was skeptical of a universal, objective truth that transcends cultural boundaries. Instead, he argued for an approach that appreciates the local meanings and interpretations that shape the understanding of truth within a specific cultural context. Geertz’s work often highlighted the idea that truth, or what is considered truthful, is not a fixed and universal concept but is shaped by cultural, social, and historical contexts. This week marks the 131^st anniversary of the overthrow of The Hawaiian Kingdom. To this day, people are still arguing about the “facts” promulgating the political event.

Cecil B. DeMille had a penchant for crafting captivating stories, often taking creative liberties with the facts. In his biblical epic, “The Ten Commandments” (1956 version), he skillfully incorporated “sources” while delivering a narrative that proved to be a triumph both critically and commercially. He never let the truth get in the way of telling a whopper of a tale.

What is one supposed to do when the “facts” are clearly contradictory? The Bible is but one example: At what hour did Jesus die? A) And it was the third hour, and they crucified him. —Mark 15:25 or B) …about the sixth hour…they cried out…crucify him….Then delivered he him therefore unto them to be crucified. —John 19:14-16. Are we saved by faith or by works? A) For by grace are ye saved through faith…not of works. —Ephesians 2:8,9 or B) Ye see then how that by works a man is justified, and not by faith only. —James 2:24. How old was Johoiachin when he began his reign? A) Jehoiachin was eighteen years old when he began to reign, and he reigned in Jerusalem three months. —2 Kings 24:8 or B) Jehoiachin was eight years old when he began to reign, and he reigned three months and ten days in Jerusalem.—2 Chronicles 36:9. How did Judas Iscariot off himself? A) And [Judas] cast down the pieces of silver in the temple, and departed, and went and hanged himself. —Matthew 27:5 or B) Now [Judas] purchased a field with the reward of iniquity; and falling headlong, he burst asunder in the midst, and all his bowels gushed out. —Acts 1:18. I find it remarkable that the Bible teaches us donkeys can talk, unicorns exist, the earth has four corners and the sun revolves around it, the earth is 6,000 years old, and Mary – well, I won’t go there. Nestled among these gems of knowledge is the origin for the famous line “The truth will set you free” – John 8:31-32. But do people really want to know the truth?

The mere presence of news outlets such as Fox, MSNBC, and CNN alludes to our inclination to avoid objective truth in favor of news sources that resonate with our preconceived biases.

The periodical’s decline in this play is indicative of a protracted history of decision-making – suggesting a systemic issue, rendering it implausible that a singular article would suffice to rescue it from impending demise. The transience of public memory further underscores the challenge, as articles tend to fade into obscurity within an hour of readership. Hermann Ebbinghaus proposed the forgetting curve, illustrating that without reinforcement, people tend to forget a significant portion of what they learn or read within the first hour after exposure. The lifespan of a theatrical review is about 60 minutes. Go figure.

“Lifespan of a Fact” at Manoa Valley Theatre in Honolulu runs through January 28, 2024. For further information, kindly visit manoavalleytheatre.com.

Follow the author, Anton Anderssen, on Twitter @Hartforth