The title alone—Nothing Can Take You From the Hand of God—is a mouthful and not only a quote from the New Testament but also a preview of coming attractions.
The main attraction is Jen Tullock, who wrote the solo outcry with Frank Winters. That’s hardly all from her. Boasting credits including the widely beloved Severance ensemble, she performs the hyperkinetic piece with the energy of a charged filament let loose on a stage.
She’s set herself loose, that is, with several cameras she moves about so that she constantly appears on the upstage screen (Stefania Bulbarella’s projection and video design). It’s a set-up that might remind spectators of Sarah Snook’s recent The Picture of Dorian Gray.
If it isn’t already clear that Tullock’s 70-minute turn demands attention, more encouragement might be that no comparable one-woman show seems to have come along since Lily Tomlin’s The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe, another word-heavy titled monolog, that one written by Jane Wagner. (The lengthy title is probably coincidental, but maybe not.)
So, what goes on in this highly recommended—and, be aware, autobiographical—outburst? This is the tale of a gay woman whose evangelical background has her in a difficult frame of mind, ready to be disturbed, volatile, and entertaining about it.
She’s also only semi-closeted, assigning herself—with her narrow figure and narrow, inquisitive, resolute face—the name Frances Reinhardt. In a program note, it’s announced that the story is “inspired by Jen’s upbringing in the evangelical church.”
Of Reinhardt, author of the autobiographical Never the Twain Shall Meet: Losing God and Finding Myself, a stage direction says, “her wit masks her anxiety.” It’s also pertinent that the other 10 characters, covered in 33 sections announced on screen, are briefly described in ways the audience may not pick up on. For instance, Agnieszka Szymborska is “single mom juggling nine plates, contains a fire she’s been forced to subdue for the sake of the egos of those around her.” Oh? Where are those nine plates or references to them?
Of the other characters, perhaps the oddest designation is Aubrey, of whom it’s infoed, “A Los Angeles agent, chews gum in place of the cocaine she’s recently given up.” Odd as well is this one: Grzegorz Szymborska, “Agnieszka’s son, can often be found wearing a cape and Capezio jazz shoes.”
Truth is, as the show barrels on, under Jaren Mezzocchi’s assured direction, Grzegorz doesn’t wear a cape or those extremely comfortable Capezio jazz oxfords. Tullock never changes costumes, never accessorizes to indicate she’s just switched characters. Or maybe she does don the JC Penny infiniti scarf as jazzercising Miss Blevins?
The script represents character-switching by “glitch” after “glitch.” But does lighting designer Amith Chandrashaker help with those cues? Maybe, but this reviewer was too caught up in following the rapid shifts both on stage and on screen to take in lighting design alterations.
The rawboned truth is that to some extent Nothing Can Take You From the Hand of God is a challenge Tullock and Winters offer the audience: just you try to keep up with us; betcha can’t. Confession: This observer, watching Tullock in the accelerated flesh and on screen, occasionally was uncertain which of Tullock’s eleven personages, including a voiceover host, was speeding around the stage front and center, left, and right.
All the same, meeting the challenge is a large part of the fun, and to be sure, everything—okay, almost everything—registers. Perhaps others would consider this a detriment, but at the end of the Tullock-Winters day, it isn’t. Too much enjoyment rules from fast start to fast finish, the foremost Tullock’s indefatigable performance.
Much of the play leads to a CNN interview, where Frances/Jen answers questions about her purpose: “Yeah, I think it’s easy to paint a picture of my family as people I got away from, but they are my family. Still. I love them, and they very much love me. That’s not a question.
“The thing about the queer-in-the-church narrative is most of them I find to be very staid. We go, ‘Oh, you suffered greatly and then you got out now you are free!’ Happy Ending. So, what you’re focusing on is the escape, but what nobody talks about is what happens after the escape.
What happens after Jen Tullock’s escape is the important and imposing Nothing Can Take You From the Hand of God. Which doesn’t necessarily end among Tullock’s many jubilant notes. Towards the finish she reports, “I’m homesick, and I can’t go home.”
That hits home. It’s often a widespread communal feeling, isn’t it?
Nothing Can Take You from the Hand of God opened October 13, 2025, at Playwrights Horizons and runs through October 26. Tickets and information: playwrightshorizons.org
