Hidden Man paints an affectionate portrait of Howard Finster

Outsider artist Howard Finster liked to call himself a “man of visions” and a “stranger from another world.” The Baptist reverend claimed to see visions of divine origin that inspired his self-taught artwork and the conversion of his home in Summerville, Ga., to the Paradise Gardens studio and found-object sculpture garden. The playful energy of his pieces struck a chord with art collectors and musicians such as R.E.M., earning him fame and financial success before his death in 2001.

Playwright Pamela Turner, however, never saw Finster as a natural subject for a stage play. “The honest truth is, he’s not a dramatic character. I don’t know of a journey he’s taken or transformation he’s made,” she says. Turner resisted the idea of writing a play about Finster until she learned the story of Robert Sherer, a gay Atlanta College of Art student and substance-abusing would-be punk rock musician in the early 1980s. Sherer visited Paradise Gardens as a joke, and ended up spending two summers there. Sherer’s friendship with Finster ultimately helped him climb out of a suicidal downward spiral.

Co-written with Russell Blackmon, Hidden Man neatly shows how a character changes his self-destructive ways through the influence of a deeply spiritual mentor without ever being as didactic as a narrowly religious play. A world premiere co-production between 7 Stages and the University of Georgia Theatre Department, Hidden Man presents an intriguing mosaic of two clashing personalities and locales, but its execution lacks the shadings the material deserves.

From a vantage point about 30 years later, some of the dialogue sounds anachronistic, including “That is so random” and “Don’t go there.” Nevertheless, Hidden Man effectively captures Atlanta’s bohemian scene of the early ’80s with details such as Robert’s (Malcolm Campbell-Taylor) T-shirt from beloved punk venue the 688 Club. With an insolent manner and a cavalier attitude toward drugs, Robert tries to get past his small-town origins and become an original, provocative artist.

His more sociable roommate and lover Charlie (Jordan Harris) practically drags him to Paradise Gardens, but Robert barely pays attention to Howard (George Contini), a sunny sexagenarian who brims with Southern hospitality and eccentric industriousness. Austin K. Butler’s set includes a backdrop of withered kudzu, Finster’s clapboard front porch, and a Paradise Gardens work-in-progress, the bicycle tower. In a charming touch, the clothespins look like cartoony Finster angels.

Robert finds an unexpected connection to Finster. Unlike Charlie, Robert is capable of seeing The Stranger (Adam Fiddler), a somewhat sinister, possibly imaginary character who represents Finster’s more alien side. The Stranger wears a high-collared yellow coat, scaly blue pants, a pompadour, muttonchops, and black lines on his face that make him resemble one of Finster’s more fanciful subjects come to life.

The first act cuts between Howard making art and reciting scripture in Paradise Gardens and Robert’s increasingly harmful behavior, including a near-fatal overdose. In Act Two, he crashes at Paradise Gardens and settles down, cracking jokes with Howard and helping with the older man’s booming art career: “I got a call from a fellow says he’s a Talking Head!” Howard exclaims.

Even when he gets back on his feet, Robert’s friendship with Howard threatens to founder over his out-and-proud homosexuality. Robert objects to Howard’s anti-gay “Temple of Sodomy” built of broken mirrors, but the reverend’s Biblical literalism proves at odds with his generous, nonjudgmental nature. At one point, Robert and Charlie bathe together, the words “SIN” and “LUST” painted on their chests, in a paradoxical image that’s both a symbolic baptism and a Biblical no-no.

Contini radiates high-spirited energy as Howard, whether he’s refurbishing a broken bike, snacking on “Co’Cola and Moon Pies” or preaching the Word of God. The role may be devout and open-hearted, but Contini conveys that Howard’s no fool, but a perceptive man who appreciates the value of money and humor. Apart from Contini, the cast is comprised of theater majors who frequently seem in over their heads.

Perhaps there’s no greater challenge for an actor than engendering sympathy for a selfish, petty character. Taylor’s most moving sequences as Robert come when he eventually accepts his Southern roots and honors the example of his father, a would-be artist who had to put his creative ambitions aside for his family. But Taylor often comes off as merely petulant, and the role’s jerky behavior becomes tedious. It doesn’t help that his multiple speeches about suicidal people begin to sound redundant. You spend the last half-hour of the play wondering, “Surely this is the last scene ...”

Blackmon describes Hidden Man as about 50 percent fictional, despite being about real people. Turner says, “It was important to me that at least half the play be made up, so at least some of the considerations I make were organic to the play.” Turner consulted with Sherer and Blackmon to make sure the invented scenes came across as consistent with reality.

Although the young actors don’t bring out all the ideas and implications in the material, Hidden Man inspires clever ideas from 7 Stages’ design team and recounts a fascinating, locally informed story about the unlikely relationship between a pair of polar opposites. Even if Rev. Howard Finster doesn’t qualify as a conventional dramatic character, in Hidden Man he steals the show, in flagrant violation of “Thou Shalt Not Steal.”