Rupert Spraul and Montez Jenkins Photo courtesy of Know Theatre of Cincinnati

Their exchange seesaws back and forth through a series of scenes. During the 90-minute performance, we learn more about their differences. Ryan is divorced and angry at the world, hoping for shared custody of his daughter, Crystal, but sensing that the system does not work for someone like him. He's a blue-collar guy, working in a yogurt factory. He barely gets by paycheck to paycheck. Keith, on the other hand, is obviously well educated (probably over-educated for his mundane, complex job), meticulous, professional, and financially stable. But he's edgy, and we begin to see he's not quite as composed as he first comes across.

Ryan is white and straight; Keith is Black and gay. Early on, Ryan looks at Keith and says with profound honesty, "I think we share a specific kind of sadness." That seems like an odd observation given their differences. But we increasingly learn how much they have in common. Ryan fears losing custody of his 18-month-old daughter in the angry aftermath of his divorce. Keith has been fostering Willa, a little girl of similar age. The girls are at the same daycare center, and that's where the men crossed paths and Ryan learned that Keith worked in the mortgage business.

Ryan is a poor candidate for any kind of loan due to his recent divorce and his meager finances. He yearns to purchase land his family once owned to establish a place to raise Crystal, but his chances are slim. Keith offers pragmatic advice regarding the unlikelihood of Ryan qualifying, but as they become more familiar, he relents and tries to help. Keith hopes to adopt Willa, but an aunt, upon learning that Willa is in the care of a gay man, is pursuing her own adoption. His prospects are no better than Ryan's.

As time passes, we learn much more about the two men. Despite their different pasts and existences, more and more common ground emerges, rooted in their frustrations and hopes about being good parents.

Other than one emotional outburst, there's very little physical action in this production, staged sensitively and thoughtfully by Piper N. Davis. In a short sequence, the men polish off a bottle of whiskey and engage humorously in more and more revelatory conversations. But the actors easily demonstrate they are both headed for the sadness and circumstances that Ryan sensed early on.

That said, there's something else, and it speaks to Hunter's unusual title: The exchange between these frustrated men proves to be "a case for the existence of God." Not that they personally achieve what they hoped for, but they come to appreciate the unlikely friendship that takes root between them and the support they are able provide for one another. A final imaginative scene suggests a positive future outcome, although it's not what they thought they were working toward. Nevertheless, it demonstrates how God works in mysterious ways, not always following expected paths but achieving a meaningful outcome.

Davis's direction brings out fine performances by both actors. As Ryan, Spraul's rough-edged, angry fear of financial ruin affecting his daughter's life is palpable. And Jenkins's portrait of a tightly wound guy who eventually becomes unraveled is convincing and heartfelt. Neither character is perfect or even very likable, but the sense of sadness they each feel seems to offer the foundation for a path forward. Not an easy one, but one that makes sense.

Hunter's script, in the hands of a Davis's steadily paced direction and brought to life by these two fine actors, makes for a powerful, moving story.

A Case for the Existence of God runs through February 22, 2025, at Know Theatre of Cincinnati, David C. Herriman Center for the Performing Arts, 1120 Jackson Street, Cincinnati OH. For tickets and information, please visit knowtheatre.com or call 513-300-5669.