The Priory: A One-Man Mass
Writer and performer Frank Pagliaro establishes the tone of his solo- show
The Priory: A One-Man Mass early on. He is a charming man. Throughout the show there is a wit to his performance in dialect that comes naturally: it doesn’t aim to impress the audience as much as it does exemplify the role academia has played in the formation of the character we see on stage. He is witty, referencing Descartes and St. Aquinas, but it isn’t meant to be a show: it’s his simple earnest life experience as someone who has always been around learning.
Mr. Pagliaro does not come to the performance with pretenses about himself, in fact the opposite: he does not paint himself as some erudite wiseman, but instead a product of his environment, and does not stray away from the complicated and imperfect man this place the priory has turned him into. He doesn’t shy away from admitting it’s made him angry drunk and confessing thoughts and temptations that doesn’t curry him any favor, but all to the effect of showing you what this environment had created. The uncomfortable reality of his dark thoughts do not paint the picture of someone who is self-impressed by any means, but someone who is unfortunately aware of how messy they are and just uncertain what do about it. As uncomfortable as it may be, there is something contextualizing about the intrusive thoughts, highlighting their opportunistic nature, and the culpability of the power structures that enable these sorts of acts. Pagliaro's depiction of himself as just a normal man who has the same bad thoughts in the same moments as bad men puts under a lens the way in which these systems create opportunities for such abuses.
Solo theater is a vehicle to take one’s personal life experience and throw it into the big picture. The Priory: A One-Man Mass doesn’t simply follow the beats of our protagonist’s life, stringing along a bunch of events that happened to him in sequence. The narrative structure instead looks at his life as it is seen through a particular place, a parochial and academic institution, and the sort of corruption that can occur within those places. His life story and the setting complement each other, intertwining two narratives, one on the surface of how a man came to learn the things he’s learned, and one about some greater societal issues we face which are unfortunately relatable for many people.
Pagliaro portrays those who betrayed him as kind and sagely. He cherishes the wisdom they instilled in him. His performance excels during these moments as he adorns the personas of his former mentors. From the cryptic yet familiar McDougal, the excellent accent work on his former math teacher, and the cryptic demeanor of his South Park and porn loving monk, Brother Placidus, each of these highlight the best our performer has to offer. The small adjustments in posture, tone of voice, and turn of phrase made these characters come to life where at times I forgot I was watching a show with just one person in it. There is, through all this pain, a respect that carries through. He admits that his righteous indignation was hurting the place he called home. Though if that respect were never there to begin with, if the trust never fostered, if we ourselves could not feel the security he felt, how could we feel the very rational sense of righteous indignation that comes from watching your mentors fail you? I have often said that having male role models can often be very disappointing, and this show exemplifies how difficult that growing pain is.
That sort of betrayal from not only an institution but a community and a role model that promote kindness and goodness is something I felt in my parochial education. Paramus Catholic, my Alma Mater, having its own sexual misconduct allegations during my tenure. It has happened in churches of my friends. It has happened in the church of my family. Frank does not condemn Christianity and deeply celebrates the mysticism and metaphysical aspects of the faith as it relates to what it means to be good. Pagliaro instead draws attention to the propensity for both academic and religious institutions to handle these sorts of issues in house, and when those who compromise their social standing to handle this through legitimate civic means, they face both social and legal hurdles to hide and obfuscate these sorts of crimes. I could not help but notice that Pagliaro was a Cornell graduate, giving a certain timeliness to this performance in the wake of tragedy that befell Jane Doe at Cornell University, and the eerily similar systemic failings that make the parallels to the show feel a bit more than incidental.
I do not take away from this story a sense of a dread, but a hint of optimism about these sorts of issues. That there are men who are mindful of the nuances of why these things perpetrate. He approaches the audience and says “I am imperfect. So were they. But I am going to be different.” It stood out to me that his father did not appear until the end. I think it speaks of a certain generational experience of millennial men: wanting to connect with our fathers, not quite knowing how, a love that provided yet could feel far, and in that searching for those to teach us to be a man in the ways we can. The show highlights not that there are a lot of bad men out there, but specifically there are lot of men given the opportunity to be bad and get away with it. It shows you how disappointing having male role models can be. A lot of Gen Z and Millennial men feel as if they have no rule book on what it means to be a man. We imitate those we look up to. But what happens when the men that taught you how to be a man take advantage of that status? Sometimes you do it too. Sometimes you become an angry drunk. And in Frank Pagliaro's case, you decide neither is okay, and try to be the change you want to see in the world.
The Priory: A One-Man Mass
Starring: Frank Pagliaro
Performed on October 21, 2026
October 19 – November 22, 2026
Theatre Row, 410 West 42nd Street, in Manhattan
Reviewer: Alexander J. Preziosi
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