Displaying items by tag: A Shayna Maidel

“God’s will” is often invoked as a reason for suffering in Barbara Lebow’s 1984 A Shayna Maidel, now being revived in a powerfully acted and impressively designed production at Timeline Theatre. While this might provide comfort to those who suffer, it also provides cover for those who caused the suffering. This point is made in the play, but the focus is on what people do survive, not on the circumstances that compel them to have to fight for survival. Taking place in 1946, it is a powerful tribute to the resilience of those who lived through Hitler’s Final Solution. As one family realizes that their estrangement is based on more than just miles and struggles to once again become as whole as possible, their perspectives and memories go beyond the lists of the dead to show the personal impact of not only hate, but ignorance, both willful and not. As the Holocaust slips further into history, it is important to remind people of its toll on humanity, and how easy it was to stay on the sidelines, allowing “God’s will” to be done.

A Shayna Maidel begins the generation before the main events of the play, in a Polish village in 1876, where a child is being born in the midst of a Russian pogrom. Fires burn, screams fill the air, and horses’ hooves thunder. The baby, Mordechai, is born without a cry, but he survives. Flash forward to 1946, and Rose Weiss is roused from sleep by pounding on the door. It is her father, Mordechai Weiss, now a successful store manager in New York City, waking Rose with the news that her sister, Lusia, has survived the concentration camps and will be coming to stay with her in a few days. Rose, who has recently gotten a job and the apartment that she is being ordered to share, is not happy that she is being given no choice in the matter. She has no memory of Lusia and her mother, whom she and Mordechai left behind in Poland when they came to America when she was four. Though she feels guilty about being the sister who was able to grow up American, Rose is as American as Mordechai raised her to be. She was able to ride out the Depression without pain and, though she has forced herself to watch newsreels of Nazi atrocities, Mordechai has isolated her from news of the family and her sympathy is from a distance. Lusia’s arrival brings it home.

Emily Berman’s haunted Lusia captures the steely resolve that kept her from giving up and keeps her looking for her husband when the search seems hopeless. Her careful movements and speech conceal the accumulation of loss and suffering, as well as the seething fury, that she cannot leave behind. As her sister Rose, Bri Sudia embodies the more mundane struggles she faces—working and creating her own life and identity despite her father’s objections—she is radiant, powerful and compassionate, despite her ignorance of the world she escaped. Initially resentful of having to take in her lost sister, Rose becomes an ally and friend as the bonds of blood and memory emerge. As the patriarch Mordechai, Charles Stransky fully realizes the imperious anger that both daughters remember, and the pride that reveals his love for them, but also played a role in their estrangement, a fact that he forces himself to ignore. Carin Silkaitis plays Mama with a warmth and pragmatism that reflects the character’s own strength in facing hardships. Weaving through Lusia’s memories are her husband Duvid and her best friend Hanna. We see Alex Stein’s Duvid go from cocky teenager, to proud husband worried about protecting the future of his family while still retaining his brash charm. As Hanna, Sarah Wisterman is bubbly and gregarious, hopeful and defiant in the face Nazi atrocities.

Director Vanessa Stalling has assembled a perfect cast and understands the importance of remembering the events that tear apart the Weiss family in Lebow’s play, though some flashbacks prove problematic, lending an elegiac quality that deprives the play of its contemporary relevance. Still, the moments that provide a reason to remember are powerfully rendered—the comparison of lists of the lost, the litany of causes for Lusia’s abandonment in Poland, the hope that runs through the tragedy, not as a weak last gasp, but as a powerful choice. It is this hope that makes the production worth checking out, even though the script sometimes threatens to relegate the threats faced by the Weiss family to the past, rather than reminding us that they still exist. Stalling’s design team finds the balance between the visceral and the mundane. The note-perfect set by Collette Pollard and props by Hillarie M. Shockley, with their cheery colors and all the luxuries that a 1946 walk-up might contain, ensure that the realistic story stays connected to the real stories it represents. Costume designer Samantha C. Jones likewise accents the reality of the time, from the Rose’s middle-class chic, to Mama’s peasant vibrance, to Lusia’s evolving wardrobe, from drab Red Cross issued dress to the relative elegance of the flower prints that echo her sister’s own clothes. Lighting designer Rachel K. Levy shifts her palette between the warm glow of the apartment and memories of childhood to the harsh saturated colors that define the realities of oppression. Sound designer and composer Jeffrey Levin creates a rich aural tapestry, with music ranging from klezmer to period pop, the music of the present and memories, and the terrifying sounds of violent onslaught.

It is important that the world never forget the Holocaust. A Shayna Maidel brings its memory to life, but it does not go far enough in showing us why it is important, nor placing blame where it belongs. It becomes too easy to shift the blame to Mordechai, with his imperious pride, rather than a world that turned away. This has nothing to do with Vanessa Stalling’s meticulous and impassioned Timeline Theatre production, which is a devastating reminder of events that are growing distant enough that their lessons are being daily—and sometimes deliberately—forgotten. Emily Berman’s Lusia embodies the hope and strength required to survive crushing loss and abandonment, while Bri Sudia’s Rose shows the genuine value of empathy. As Mordechai, Charles Stransky finds the compassion behind his character’s overbearing demeanor, and the remainder of the ensemble show the tragedy of what was lost in the face of Nazi atrocities and the world’s wavering response. A Shayna Maidel, the play, misses opportunities to show the ongoing impact of ignoring ethnic cleansing and genocide—connections made, but not pursued. However, the members of Lebow’s fictional Weiss family and their journeys provide many indelible moments of recognition, recrimination, love and loss.

A Shayna Maidel runs through November 4 at Timeline Theatre Company, 615 W. Wellington, Chicago. Performances take place Wednesdays and Thursdays at 7:30 pm, Fridays at 8 pm, Saturdays at 4 pm and 8 pm, and Sundays at 2 pm. Tickets are available at timelinetheatre.com or by calling the box office at (773)281-8463 x 6.

*Extended through December 2nd