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Kevin Sprague ©2025  MARK H. DOLD as C.S. Lewis and MARTIN RAYNER as Sigmund Freud

History buffs and theologians alike should revel in Freud's Last Session, Mark St. Germain's thoughtful rumination on an imagined meeting between professor-author C.S. Lewis and Sigmund Freud, the latter an 83 year-old with oral cancer literally in his final days. A one-act play with no grand purpose really, other than to suppose the melding of two distinctive minds, it is the epitome of the Important Men Talking Play and for those who can't quite handle the all-talk, no-action modus operandi, it could be some rough going. But the sensitivity to which it presents two men trying to meet other halfway eventually makes the chatter worth it all.

When the plays opens, Freud (superbly played by Martin Rayner) is huddled over his radio, listening to war reports in the midst of WWII (the play is set in 1939). Currently residing in England, he welcomes Lewis (Mark H. Dold-also quite good) over-this is pre-Chronicles of Narnia and his celebrated novels-and despite his ailing health and irascible stubbornness, manages to engage his new guest in a battle of wills. After an affable start, it's not long before Freud begins to psychoanalyze his younger visitor (Lewis cheekily quips, “I didn't choose the couch”) and soon they are off, challenging each other on various issues, but namely the still utterly timely science vs. religious debate. Lewis is a strong believer in God (though a staunch despiser of hymns), while Freud cannot comprehend His existence, though amusingly, cannot stop invoking religious euphemisms out of habit.

Kevin Sprague ©2025  MARTIN RAYNER as Sigmund Freud and MARK H. DOLD as C.S. Lewis

Soon, as they develop a rapport and share a similar history in which their fathers have let them down, the play becomes a tender generational drama. Freud, struggling to keep in his loose upper palette (he lost the space between his lower palette and sinus cavities years back to his deteriorating disease), is at no loss for words (a nice touch of irony by the playwright), but his withering body can't keep up, and Lewis, gently warming to him, cannot help but try to ease his suffering.

You can practically hear the tick marks as the play goes through big topics, and considering Freud's revolutionary thoughts on sexuality, the play is surprisingly timid when the subject finally gets introduced, only to not become fully explored. But director Tyler Marchant-aided by a first-rate design team-keeps the production nicely balanced, and keeps the tone from ever being too erratic.

But the play is truly a triumph for its leads. Hamminess and bluster could have been the point of order for its performers given their juicy roles, but Rayner and Dold constantly resist it-a wonderful choice because if you don't identify with these guys as people first, there's no hope for wanting to listening them shoot the philosophical breeze for 75 straight minutes.