Eddie Jaku's autobiography of the same title is an international bestseller, and for good reason. The story is harrowing enough to be a plotline of a high-grossing horror film. Except it is not a story. Played by Kenneth Tigar, Jaku walks into the intimate space and introduces himself with charm, casually cracking jokes with audience members, lightening the mood on what could easily become overbearing regarding such a heavy narrative.
Jaku explains that he has been asked to speak at the synagogue, yet he can't bear to burden his family with his lived reality. Asking us to lend an ear, he begins with the reaction of his son who was eavesdropping on a telling of his life story but, at the time, his 7-year-old son could not begin to comprehend that this was anything but a story.
The retelling that unfolds is gripping and quite ineffable. Packed into an 85-minute monologue, Tigar consumes our attention as he reaches both ends of the emotional spectrum, yet still finds space for the comedy that is almost always found tagging alongside horrific tragedy. Tigar's vulnerability is a display of true humanity, while the higher-octane moments paint a vivid imagination; giving us the tiniest glimpse of what Jaku experienced.
Tigar's performance is complemented by the simple and smart set design by James Noone; creative light design by Harold Burgess; smart costume design choices by Johanna Pan; and limited sound design by Brendan Aanes. All of whom have created the space to cushion Jaku's story in a creative context. Similarly, Ron Lagomarsino's direction has given the words of Jaku's autobiography, a living space to keep the memory of the horrors of the Holocaust alive.
It is difficult to criticize such a commendable endeavour, when the importance of bringing these stories to maintain relevance is paramount. The nature of the show requires respectful concentration from the audience which can certainly take its toll over an 85-minute monologue. While Tigar is greatly compelling to capture our interest, the narrative is dense with Jaku's experiences, feeling at times like a vacuum, as our energy is bounced from wall to wall in the atrocities that seem to have no light at the end of a continuous tunnel.
Review: Sebastian Calver Photo: Daniel Rader