REVIEW: Columbia-Walsh’s “Fear and Trembling” is an ingenious, faithful but challenging take on Kierkegaard
Written and directed by Brennan Columbia-Walsh ’26, “Fear and Trembling” is a dramatic interpretation of Søren Kierkegaard’s legendary treatise.
Zane Glick, Contributing Photographer
From Nov. 7 to Nov. 9, The Dome at the Yale Schwarzman Center presented a dramatic adaptation of Søren Kierkegaard’s legendary treatise, “Fear and Trembling,” written and directed by Brennan Columbia-Walsh ’26.
Columbia-Walsh’s ambitious interpretation of “Fear and Trembling” serves as a dramatic companion to Kierkegaard’s lyric, written under the pseudonym Johannes de Silentio.
The text is a philosophical exploration of the biblical verse Genesis 22, in which an angel instructs Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac. It uncovers tensions between faith, logic and ethics.
“Fear and Trembling” is a nuanced, loving testament to drama, faith and existentialist philosophy that melds the intellectual with the romantic. It is also the culmination of Columbia-Walsh’s journey with the text, an intellectual and spiritual exorcism spanning two years of study.
In Columbia-Walsh’s interpretation, three professors, each representing different schools of thought, study the verse and play Abraham within a cast-within-the-cast. The general physical setting is twofold. First, there is a non-descript university where the three protagonists converse. Secondly, there is 2000 B.C. Canaan, where the three variations on Genesis 22 are explored.
Kierkegaard, a Danish 19th-century philosopher and theologian, is considered the father of existentialism. “Fear and Trembling” is widely considered the entry point to Kierkegaard’s intellectual corpus on faith.
The text issues four fallacious interpretations of the verse and dissects each; at its core, “Fear and Trembling” encourages viewers to take a leap of faith from the cliff of logic.
The Dome is an abnormal space for theater. It lives up to its name, a broad oval of a room floored by faintly lacquered hardwood. Audiences are placed in a somewhat unconventional seating arrangement: two rows of four concentric arcs interrupted by four walkways.
In part due to this space, the play carefully incorporates a metatheatrical environment where the cast is never truly offstage. The precarious acoustics make actors’ footsteps a presence at all moments, necessitating character be upheld and dynamic contrast in line delivery made clear. Both were executed excellently.
“Fear and Trembling” attracted an audience across the academic spectrum, from STEM students to Directed Studies professors to North America’s top Kierkegaard scholars. As a storied playwright, Columbia-Walsh knows his audience. He uses comic relief to distill moments of heady academic dialogue that reflect the philosophical content as succinct humor.
In Act 1, scene 1, the spotlight shined on a rigid Fr. Malone, played by Columbia-Walsh himself, who knows when to project his voice, filling the hall with booming praise of Abraham’s unwavering faith. But he also knows when to keep his silence. The space between his sentences is prolonged in moments of tension, forcing the audience to tremble in the awkwardness of absence.
The spotlight again shined on the opposite side of the stage, revealing a spiffy Dr. Ezekiel Young, played by José Sarmiento ’25. He is mid-lecture on modern rationalism, lamenting reason’s fall from grace in philosophical tradition. Playing an impassioned, erudite professor, Sarmiento’s contained voice is a stark antithesis to Columbia-Walsh’s congregational stupor.
The ensuing narrative interplay and development between Dr. Young and Fr. Malone is perhaps Columbia-Walsh’s most creative and effective narrative device in “Fear and Trembling.” Fr. Malone speaks to more theologically inclined audiences, while Dr. Young speaks to the secularly inclined. Their on-stage interactions reveal where each character fails.
The characters’ flaws also represent the flaws of the doctrines they represent.
Dr. Young’s wife, Mary — played by Nneka Moweta ’27 — leaves him because she says his condescending attitude and obsession with ideas have clouded their marriage. Dr. Young tries to reason with her, but in doing so, he mistakenly goes beyond love. Faith and love begin where thinking leaves off. Columbia-Walsh expresses this notion with great tact throughout the show.
Fr. Malone’s reliance on faith hinders him from connecting emotionally with his colleagues. In attempting to counsel Dr. Young through his romantic plight, Fr. Malone’s advice to him is brusque: “Expect her back.”
However, there is a flaw in this foil depicting faithful concord and romantic dissonance — audiences have little reason to care about Mary Young. In the more than two-hour runtime, Mary Young has sparse interaction with Ezekiel. Other than simply being Dr. Young’s love interest, Mary Young comes just short of compelling.
Overall, the play’s reliance on biblical narrative and intellectual dialogue overlooks what could be one of the most captivating facets of the play: its depiction of love between two people.
By contrast, Professor Spengler, played by Wesleyan undergraduate Alex Glotzer, reads more as a Machiavellian realist. He represents the ethical struggle between force and faith.
While Spengler seems to be a mediator between the two poles of Malone and Young in the first act, the second act makes it clear Spengler belongs to a deviant third ideology, one that values “movers and shakers.” Ironically, he can do nothing to get through to his son, whom he loves dearly but has not spoken to in years.
Professor Spengler is steadfast in his beliefs and, yet, is powerless to enact the force he espouses to regain his son. He falsely interprets Abraham as a tragic hero compelled to kill his son, when in fact, Abraham faces no tragedy at all. He must merely maintain faith, not enforce divine will. Thus, Professor Spengler’s misreading of Genesis 22 partly reflects his mistakes with his son.
The female characters display different levels of metatheatricality. For instance, Sarah, played by Alika Osadolor-Hernandez ’25, remains uncomfortably fantastical and deeply engaged in the suspension of disbelief at all moments, whereas Tillie, played by Emma Fusco ’26, appears to be somewhat aware of the audience’s presence.
While the show can be a stimulating intellectual exercise, the two-hour and ten-minute runtime may detract from audience engagement.
In putting together the show, Columbia-Walsh acknowledged the material’s academic and literary complexity with lightness. He notes that the audience for any show is whoever comes to see it, meaning the experience is certain to vary tremendously. His incredible performance as Fr. Malone demonstrated an awareness of his identity as a playwright and director in tandem with his identity as an actor.
Clear lighting is key for making lengthy and complex dramatic works visually engaging. The Dome is a demanding location for a theatrical production, but the lighting was lackluster.
All actors, except for Sarah, took on two, three, four or even five roles. While lighting changes attempted to signal shifts in chronology, narratives and characters, there weren’t enough or sufficient lighting cues. Further, as there was no true backstage, it was at times difficult to understand when actors were staying in character or becoming new ones.
Although Columbia-Walsh’s production is incredibly well-choreographed, a space with better lighting would spotlight the riveting scene composition.
The play remains loyal to the main tensions and themes that Kierkegaard’s philosophical treatise explores. It could benefit from digressing further from its source material to make some characters more compelling to audiences. At the same time, the play makes masterful use of dramaturgical techniques like comic relief, a literal romantic allegory and the breaking of the fourth wall to ground the show in reality.
The Dome at Schwarzman Center opened in fall 2022.