If Bruegel (the Elder) and Marcel Duchamp ever collaborated, the painting might look something like the Khan Theatre production of Amos Oz’s Scenes From a Village Life, adapted and directed by Yoram Falk. Imagine village life in all its activity and with its colorful assortment of characters, each gesture and hue has a story to tell. Now give it all a post-modern twist, so that the images are at once fragmented and multiplied, and that is how I experienced the play. It is an ensemble piece, there is no single main protagonist or narrative line, there are many. The main character is the village itself, or perhaps more precisely, the perception of the village in its different aspects and transformations.
It is a winter night in the village of Tel – Ilan, and the townspeople gather in the home of Dalia and Avraham Levine for an evening sing-along, with ample food to get them through the night. This harmonious image of village life, with its intimation of warm, close friendships, simple pleasures and perhaps most of all – consensus, constancy and continuity, is just an image, and a fleeting one at that. It is a nostalgic image, one that some Israelis hold dear, yet as the poet Rachel said, “And perhaps, it never really happened.”
Contemporary re-vision of this cherished image has produced a bumper crop of books, plays and films debunking the myth of the ‘good old days,’ and revealing the tensions, power struggles, anger and pain raging beneath the serene surface. The catch is, that we are now in a post-post modern era, and the debunking of myth is our contemporary mythology. As Barenaked Ladies say so eloquently: “It’s all been done.” Therefore, let us leave the “what” and take a look at the “how,” because there are some nice things happening here.
The set design by Alexander Lisiansky is evocative and efficient. A long table with the iconic white table cloth and candles is flanked by a miniature water tower to the left and back, and at the front of the stage is an old-school style wooden see-saw which is put to excellent use, both literally and figuratively. The times they are a changin’ indeed (I keep going for musical references, perhaps subconsciously influenced by this play centered on song), and the village is experiencing changes: real estate agent Yossi (Yoav Hyman) in his oh so lame plaid suit (kudos to Merav Netanel-Danon) is selling homes to ‘outsiders’ – developers and other sorts who would tear down and build monstrosities, tearing asunder the very fabric of village life.
One after another, sometimes appearing simultaneously onstage, the characters reveal fragments of their personal stories and identities. There isn’t really a plot line with climax and denouement, it’s a collection of scenes and experiences, a palimpsest of emotions. If I were to tease out a theme from this tangled web of converging stories, it is one of missed opportunities, and perhaps that is where the personal and national stories meet.
The actors bring these characters to life with subtle poignancy and grace, allowing the audience to feel with them, even at their most flawed and exposed. To single out a few highlights: Irit Pashtan portrays the spinster (I use the term advisedly, as it refers to a character in a certain era and frame of mind) doctor Gili Steiner. Conscientious and correct, she seeks warmth and affection and seems to want to give as well as receive, yet something is missing, something is wrong. Her withdrawal from an accidental (or not?) moment of physical intimacy with Mirkin (Nir Ron) the bus driver, is a tender moment, both actors convey so much in this wordless, fleeting awkward encounter.
Yoav Hyman gets to play here as the slightly soulless salesperson, the clever student and would-be novelist Arab-outside Adel, and with an incredibly expressive hand-puppet, as a street dog – capturing one’s attention and empathy, as well as bringing on a smile. Yehoyachin Friedlander carries two of the heavier roles, and shoulders them in a poignant and heart-rending manner. As Avraham Levine, he speaks few words, yet conveys a world of sadness, his body language and features suggesting a man turned inward and withdrawn from life. As the aging Pessach Kedem, Friedlander’s rubbery features actually seem to alter, become somehow more wide-eyed, expressing the idealistic verging on fanatic elder of the tribe as he is on watch at all hours, ranting his speeches and suspicions as his beloved world crumbles around him. Another onstage chameleon is Jonathan Miller, who doubles up as the cheerful Yochai, the guy with the guitar, and then takes of that hat (literally) to become the blushing teen and voracious reader with a crush on the librarian. Valiantly proclaiming his love, cringing in embarrassment or writhing in pain, he certainly stole this reviewer’s heart. I was rooting for him on all the way, even though he seemed destined to fail.
That is the irony of this production, playing with and relying on the beauty and harmony of song to deconstruct the myth of communal singing and all it represents; one knows it is an illusion, and yet one cannot help but feel its allure, even in the act of its exposure.
Scenes From A Village Life
By Amos Oz; Adaptation and directing: Yoram Falk; Set design: Alexander Lisiyansky; Costume design: Merav Netanel-Danon; Lighting design: Roni Cohen; Music: Avi Benjamin; Actors: Yoav Hyman (Yossi Sasson/Adel/Dog/Janitor); Yehoyachin Friedlander (Pessach Kedem/Avraham Levine); Odelya Moreh-Matalon (Dalia Levine/Ada Dvash); Nir Ron (Mirkin/Benny Avni/Eldad Rubin); Irit Pashtan (Gili Steiner/Rosa Rubin); Carmit Mesilati-Kaplan (Rachel Franko, Nava Avni, The Strange Woman); Jonathan Miller (Yochai/Kobi Ezra); Tamar Alkan (Yardena).
