Incendiary Politics Take Center Stage

 by Kelly Monaghan

"O Jerusalem" has its faults but comes off as oddly endearing

A.R. Gurney has a considerable reputation as an observer of homo waspiensis, especially the upper-class Ivy League branch of the species. In “O Jerusalem,” now at the Flea Theater, he leaves their country homes and country clubs for another traditional WASP haunt, the American foreign service. But this is no mere anthropological field trip or comedy of manners.

“O Jersusalem” is a jeremiad (Gurney’s word) against American policy in the Middle East, more specifically in the Holy Land, more specifically toward the Palestinians. Told in a style charitably described as Brechtian, the play is heartfelt, achingly sincere, and passionate. It suffers from many of the same faults old Europe finds in us—incoherence, sentimentality, a reductivist good guy-bad guy world view, and moral arrogance—yet, like America itself, remains oddly endearing.

The play is a sort of pilgrim’s progress in which the smug yet guileless hero, Hartwell, learns the error of his ways. After a post-graduate detour to Beirut where he picked up a smattering of Arabic and a lover named Amira, Hartwell settled into a predictable life of making money in the oil business. Now he hears the siren song of public service. “I’ve spent a lifetime taking things out

of the earth,” he explains glibly. “Now I want to put something back.”

So it’s off to the Middle East for the State Department. There he is presented with a series of lessons on the blunt subtleties of American policy, the obduracy of Israel, and the agony of the Palestinian people. In due course, he “gets it,” relays a warning from Amira’s Hamas-connected son about a pending terrorist attack on the United States, and is drummed out of the foreign service.

Retreating to the idyllic family estate that all self-respecting WASPs seem to have, Hartwell writes a rambling screed against American policy, goes on a speaking tour extolling his vision of a new New World Order, and gets shot by a right-wing whacko. Along the way, Gurney raises some incendiary views usually not discussed openly in polite political circles.

As ghastly as this precis makes it sound, “O Jerusalem” has its virtues. Gurney tells his tale through Hartwell’s relationships with women. His wife is the standard issue corporate model with a strong what’s-in-it-for-me rationalism. The long-abandoned-but-never-forgotten Amira seems to offer Hartwell both the wisdom of the ancients and sensual delights not to be found at Smith mixers. Sally, a half-Irish, half-Jewish Smithie whom Hartwell has known since college, is the true soul mate he realizes at the end. The device adds texture to the piece, although I suspect the hints of allegorical or Freudian significance are largely illusory.

Jim Simpson’s taut, minimalist production and his actors make the play’s awkward transitions and lazy dramaturgy seem witty and arch. Gurney also writes terrifically well for the stage and the actors here take full advantage. All the principals acquit themselves admirably. Mercedes Herrero and Chaz Mena excel in multiple supporting roles, most of which showcase Gurney’s talent for creating rich characters in a few deft strokes.

Best of all is Rita Wolf as Amira, who seems to drag millennia of Near Eastern baggage on stage with her. She runs the gamut from enraged virago to girlish lover, often in the same syllable. Her performance suggests, as Gurney’s script doesn’t, just how difficult it continues to be for Americans to understand the conflict to which we have fallen heir.

“O Jerusalem” at the Flea, 41 White St., to 4/19. Tues-Sat, 7 pm. Sat, 3 pm. Tickets: $40. 212-226-2407 or www.theflea.org. Students $20 at door, if seats are available.


An outstanding 'Men Without Shadows.'

If you’ve ever suffered through a mediocre production of “No Exit” you may have sworn off Jean-Paul Sartre forever. But don’t let that stop you from seeing the breathtaking revival of “Men Without Shadows” currently being presented by Horizon Theatre Rep at The Flea.

This seldom seen gem (its last New York production was in 1948) is perhaps the most accessible of Sartre’s plays. Dense with ideas and filled with the sort of philosophical arguments that give modern French theater a bad reputation in the land of freedom fries, it is nonetheless a ripping yarn that packs a visceral wallop. You may not fully understand existentialism after seeing this play, but you’ll be able to fake it.

Be forewarned, though. This is strong stuff. Rounding up the usual adjectives like gripping, searing, and gut-wrenching doesn’t begin to convey the power of this evening of theater. In the waning days of Vichy France, five Resistance fighters await torture and death at the hands of functionaries who are veritable poster children for the banality of evil. When their leader is temporarily detained while his airtight cover is checked out, things really get ugly. In the face of pain and rape, moral certainties become provisional and notions of love, comradeship, and family take on chilling new meanings in the hideous circumstances of their last few hours.

It’s hard to tell which was tinier, space or budget, but director Simon Hammerstein works wonders with both. He has forged a taut ensemble from a talented cast, orchestrating an almost unbearable tension.This play and this production deserve to be seen.

“Men Without Shadows” at the Flea Downstairs, 41 White St. to 4/19. Wed–Sat, 9:30 pm. Tickets: $15. Call 212-206-1515.