At a Christian summer camp in the Oregon mountains, a headstrong teen and his youth pastor push each other to breaking point, exposing the cracks in faith, authority, and deep desire for a miracle.
An angsty, challenging teen versus a philosophically minded, flannel wearing older mentor. A familiar premise, but Luke Stiles’ debut play Miraculous is no Good Will Hunting. Set in the Oregon mountains in the western United States at a Christian summer camp, Josh finds himself paired with Pastor Paul for daily mentoring sessions. Initially disgruntled at not being paired with someone his own age, Josh takes every opportunity to challenge his mentor. Meanwhile, Paul approaches Josh as one the ‘sheep in his flock,’ wanting to have an open approach to Josh’s challenges with his faith.
However, the calm pastor exterior wanes as Josh’s persistent prodding on topics such as sex and Paul’s personal life pushes the pastor over the edge. Their relationship deepens as the play progresses, discussing the lack of modern day ‘miracles’ and they seeming hypocrisy of the churches stance on intercourse and alcohol, but there is a palpable sense of unease woven throughout the production, heightened by sharp lighting shifts and unsettling soundscapes that frame each transition with foreboding, intricately tackled by lighting designer Amy Fisher and Sound Designer and composer Pierre Flasse.
The power dynamic between Josh and Paul was skillfully shaped by director Toby Clarke. Through precise and responsive staging, their struggle for dominance becomes a physical dialogue, shifting through proximity and distance: from sitting, to leaning in, to deliberate withdrawal and moments of direct confrontation. Luke Stiles captures Josh’s internal conflict with clarity, moving from visible unease under Paul’s scrutiny to a more relaxed, almost playful energy as he finds common ground in their shared appreciation of Michael Bay. Equally compelling, Diego Zozaya’s Pastor Paul is a carefully balanced portrayal of youthful zeal and an underlying need for respect and authority, revealing a character constantly negotiating his position of power.
Meg Cunningham’s set design is also not to go unnoticed. The fractured wall bleeding into a patchy cabin floor subtly externalises the characters’ internal instability, allowing the space itself to feel as though it is unraveling alongside them. The space does occasionally feel slightly cluttered with the various seating options and awkward camping bed setup.
As the piece reaches its peak in the conflict of the final night’s sermon—structured around the story of Elijah and the worshippers of Baal—we begin to lose some of the momentum of the intricate relationship that has been carefully woven up to this point. The panicked energy remains palpable, but the final scene feels somewhat underwhelming in comparison to its dramatic setup, with conclusions that feel less fully realised than anticipated. However, the full-circle return to Job 3 does provide a sense of closure, allowing the audience to arrive at a reflective resolution.
As a former camp kid who grew up in the western United States, this play lands as a familiar reflection of the hypocrisy and internal tensions experienced by young people within the church. The constant need to reconcile confusing messaging, alongside the pressure to guide and control its most impressionable members, feels recognisable and uncomfortably close to lived experience. Rather than offering fixed answers, the play approaches this with a careful hand, allowing the audience to sit within the ambiguity and form their own interpretations of the system it depicts.
Miraculous is playing at the Kings Head Theatre until June 20th. Tickets here.