Solutions of Grandeur: “Proof,” at Augustana College through May 11

I've caught fire, and it's glorious; been given not only inspiration, but also fully expressed ideas. Whether from gods or demons doesn't matter, because even if the end product is utter crap, it feels divine. But if your career, your reputation, your self-image, your very being is made of that fire – what if it's extinguished?

The final production of Augustana College's 2024-25 season is David Auburn's Proof, directed by Jennifer Popple, the college's assistant professor of theatre arts, and it shows us what if. This professional-caliber production both impressed and moved me. It's sometimes disturbing, sometimes funny, and although heartbreaking, still left me hopeful.

Auburn developed the script in 1999, the show hit Broadway in 2000, and it won three 2001 Tony Awards, including Best Play. The author was reportedly inspired to write the stage piece while looking through his late father's math textbooks, and I suspect he may also have read Sylvia Nasar's 1998 biography of mathematician John Nash, A Beautiful Mind – but I have no proof. (Heh.)

I would've liked to have seen a definition of "proof" in the program, even though, at its heart, the play is not about math. It blows my mind that a proof of one simple mathematical statement can be extraordinarily complex, and several pages long. And like a good sentence in literature, a good mathematical proof should be succinct, and have an element of artistry.

In Auburn's play, Abby Malina is Catherine, who's mourning her brilliant father Robert's death after having abandoned her own brilliance-fueled ambitions to care for him in his mental decline. Malina played Catherine's depression and grief well, somehow without fading away as a performer. Though her character has disengaged from life, Malina is skilled at holding attention. It's easy to be captivating when one is playing an extrovert – Mame, say, or Kate in Taming of the Shrew. Malina is onstage more than any other actor, and still riveting no matter her dialogue, action, or inaction.

Aaron Randolph IV plays Hal, a former student of Robert's, who is mining the mountains of his notes for calculatory gems. Randolph's exceedingly awkward attempts to engage with Catherine, or even elicit eye contact, are endearing. His shuffling feet, tentative gestures, and attempted and abandoned advances eloquently express his discomfort – but he also deploys impassioned bursts of conviction. Hal interprets the peculiarities of academia for the audience, as well. Randolph's diction is excellent, but I lost a few of his lines due to low volume and rapid delivery.

Allie McPeak portrays Catherine's out-of-town sister Claire. Though mostly absent from her family's lives, Claire now wants to contain the wildfire of madness that she thinks has spread to Catherine. McPeak is appropriately grating and perfectly maddening in the role, treating Catherine like a toddler, ignoring and overriding her. Claire's motives are pure, but her execution is cold, and takes compassion out of the equation. She is the voice of logic and reason (if A, then B), though ironically, she can't approach the deductive genius of her sister and father – and McPeak shows us that Claire knows it.

Mike Schulz plays Robert. An Augustana alumnus and Reader employee, Schulz often exudes that peculiar combination of supportive and judgmental energies that some dads – and teachers – possess: "You're a great kid; I'm so proud of you; now quit screwing around and do better." Schulz exhibits freedom of movement and an expansive, confident lope, as if striding about a lecture hall. He even stands like a professor; absorbing everything, sometimes with a bit of amusement. He also plays euphoria and torment well, including a burst of anger that was viscerally frightening.

In Proof, the words "mental illness" are never spoken – Robert is described simply as "being sick." His affliction presents as a kind of psychosis involving delusions and breaks from reality. Catherine, however, who reflexively rejects most overtures, and at her worst times rarely gets out of bed, is clearly suffering from clinical depression – and this, too, is unspoken. Though these are brain disorders, and it's possible to be diagnosed with both, schizophrenia does not equal depression.

Nevertheless, Catherine seems to have some of the symptoms her father experienced. Some people with wild talents can manifest genius as well as outbursts, withdrawal, and other socially unacceptable expressions. The common assumption, with which I agree, is that their atypical brains facilitate it all – both blessing and curse.

Lighting/scenic designer and technical director Mike Turczysnki has created another stunning set: a weathered but attractive home with a broad porch, its roof under repair, with scattered leaves convincingly distributed as if by the wind. And there's a particularly beautiful lighting effect at the close of the show, with a slow fade to black, though I wish it had also been employed earlier.

Living with the symptoms of mental illness is a daily struggle for millions. Real people with beautiful minds like Robert's have gifts great enough to enlighten the world and transform lives, and this smooth, elegant production of Proof reminds me that the dark side of their disorders can dim their lights, or extinguish them. Luckily for me, I'm a writer, so I can turn my delusions into entertainment. Theoretically, anyway.

Proof runs at Augustana College's Brunner Theatre Center (3750 Seventh Avenue, Rock Island IL) through May 11, and more information and tickets are available by calling (309)794-7306 and visiting Augustana.edu/arts/ticket-office.