Playwright: Jonathan Lichtenstein At: BackStage Theatre Company at the Viaduct, 3111 N. Western. Phone: 773-296-6024; $25. Runs through: Dec. 18
Jonathan Lichtenstein wants to tell us a story—two stories, actually—he believes to be so shocking as to require a framing device to keep us at a safe distance from facts certain to inflict irrevocable trauma on our fragile sensibilities. His concern would be deemed chivalrous, were it not for his reluctance to carry his literary conceit to its logical conclusion.
Our main narrative is the tragic tale of three German comrades—a girl and two boys—whose friendship is shattered by encroaching Nazism, as recounted by the now-elderly Frau Eva, the trio’s sole survivor, to her long-estranged grandson. Our secondary plot involves a Palestinian homeowner resisting the seizure of his land by Israeli troops. Our framing device is that of actors rehearsing these drama (s) under the supervision of a playwright-director, their progress halted occasionally by the expected interruptions arising from personal errands and opinions.
The motif of walls—coming down in Berlin, going up in Bethlehem—appears to be the only stylistic element uniting what Lichtenstein obviously considers parallel themes. Bashar and Isaac’s arguments are presented austerely, with neither man ever coming close to losing control of his emotions, while the saga of Eva and her menschen revels in the lurid melodrama we nowadays associate with films of the period. But when the reason for the latter’s déjà vu is ultimately revealed, its impact is diluted by its textual proximity to the distress of the Eva-actress over the prospect of re-enacting onstage the atrocity hitherto concealed. Her protests are futile, however, and we view the gruesome scene performed at full-out intensity. Following it, however, we do not return to the rehearsal—remember the rehearsal?—to relax as the players prepare to go home, but instead are abandoned to exit the auditorium still shuddering in horror at the cruel image mercilessly invoked by an author willing to break his own rules for the sake of a hankie-chewing thrill.
The BackStage Theatre Company does its best to redeem the outrage engendered by this betrayal, each member of the patently talented ensemble delving their expertise in service of Lichtenstein’s generic personae—notably, Brenda Barrie’s delicately nuanced turn in the dual role of both young and old Eva. But their efforts can only partially dispel the sour taste left by a script whose concessions to expediency render it undeserving of their industry.