Yentl - Marylebone Theatre ★★★

Do not be mistaken; this company is not trying to adapt the Hollywood-ised, romantic musicality of Barbra Streisand’s 1983 film. This is a drama, adapting Isaac Bashevis Singer’s novel Yentl the Yeshiva Boy in a contemporary light, merging its competing themes of queerness and Orthodoxy.

Set in Poland at the turn of the 19th century, the story follows Yentl (Amy Hack), a young Jewish female, who disguises herself as a boy (Anshl) so she can study Talmud (Jewish Oral Law) in the Yeshiva (boys’ Orthodox school). However, when Yentl falls in love with her classmate Avigdor (Ashley Margolis), and they both love the same woman, Hodes (Genevieve Kingsford), things get more complicated than Yentl ever imagined. This play is an exciting exploration of the cost of living authentically, a bold staging of the internal battles between faith and desire. Gary Abrahams, Elise Hearst and Galit Klas co-wrote this version of Yentl to start a conversation around the result of living truthfully when trespassing on tradition.

Let’s start with the best parts. This is a bilingual production; about half of it is spoken in Yiddish, with English surtitles to accompany. This really grounds the play and gives it an identity outside of the silver screen. Towards the end, Yentl monologues about their gender identity in Yiddish, and it is incredibly powerful. There is something so special about hearing words of queer empowerment spoken in this traditional language, and Amy Hack’s composure will stick with you, regardless of your connection to Judaism or queerness. Yentl as a play is undoubtedly rooted in Orthodox and Yiddish traditions, but the unashamed merging of prevalent queer themes in the story is an honour to watch.

Amy Hack and Ashley Margolis play a charming pair at the best of times. They both embody an intentional schoolboy awkwardness, humorous when needed, and their moments of chemistry are captivating, directed by Gary Abrahams tastefully. In fact, Abrahams’ pacing of the whole show is quite well done; it’s a hard task with such a minimal set and only four actors. One directorial moment stands out: After Avigdor’s marriage to shopkeeper Peshe, he and Anshl share a drunken kiss which lands every emotion it should – excitement, relief, and shame. Also, Evelyn Krape as The Figure performs a Rabbi-like narrator as well as some smaller roles, and she provides occasional comic relief to counteract the dark themes. Her delivery, too, is entertaining enough, even if her constant plot-speaking does become tiresome. There are also some interesting visual moments that represent gender non-conformity in quite shocking ways: Avigdor’s nude and bloodied crucified pose post-wedding night is an attempt at the Artaudian, but what is its purpose?

Unfortunately there are a few moments like this, where something shocking and radical is definitely attempted but may seem a little lost in its braveness. At a moment of heightened tension, it’s revealed that Avigdor’s brother hanged himself, and that’s why his engagement with Hodes ended. It should be a shocker, where you begin to understand his moody countenance, but it just doesn’t land. Perhaps it’s down to the actors’ repetitive and monotonous shouting matches pre-interval, or the fact some acting verges on melodrama. Either way, this important revelation doesn’t resonate to its full potential.

For content warning purposes, this part should be mentioned. After Anshl marries Hodes in a stunning wedding tableau, a forced sex scene is thrown in between Anshl and Avigdor. For a ‘feminist’ play with a bold message, this moment is just wildly uncomfortable with no immediate purpose. Avigdor simply walks on stage and into bed out of the blue. Does he know their sex now? Is it some kind of shameful desire he had all along? Is it all a fantasy? It’s never explained. It shocks, for sure, but what else does it do? Who does it serve? What is its message? It’s an interesting route to take, but if you are going to do it, justify it! It’s a little tiring seeing violent scenes like this only being justified by their ability to create discomfort and an artsy visual. For a story of such sadness, unnecessary violence doesn’t land particularly well.

Aside from that, the production is entirely watchable and mostly enjoyable, and a lot of this is down to Isabella Van Braeckel’s set. Her design may be simple, but it oozes rustic charm, and her thoughtful details enhance the story. With a few chairs, a table, bark covering the floor and a charming wooden backdrop, the subtle design embraces the classic aesthetics of iconic Jewish theatre – minimalism as a symbol of systemic displacement. The gauze is printed with Yiddish words and characters and appears like a massive piece of scripture. So, when it’s used for splitting the stage, or as the roof of the train on which Anshl and Avigdor become friends, it’s a beautiful visual metaphor for the omnipresence of faith and culture. On one hand it’s a comfort blanket under which you may find love and friendship; on the other, it’s a constant reminder of Yentl’s suffocating devotion to learning.

This being said, Van Braeckel may have wanted to place more thought into the makeup and wigs. There is something a bit ‘school play’ about the way these actors are painted, and it’s just distracting in such a devastating story. Evelyn Krape opens the show in ragged clothes and a face painted for… beyond the back row. Amy Hack is given the face of a child who’s rummaged through their new-wave mother’s makeup drawer. The makeup gives sickly Dickensian chic mixed with a little AmDram-turned-New Romantic, and the Marleyfication of it all is jarringly comical until you get used to their ghoulish look. The production is attempting to go darker with this story, aiming for the surreal and, with a stretch, the Gothic, in its aesthetics and message – but the wigs and makeup have got to leave Party City.

All in all, Yentl is a great play, relieved of Streisand’s romanticism, and it’s great that the story is finding its feet on stage. The bilingual script is a joy to experience; the actors truly give it their all. If only there were more of an effort towards realism to give its message breathing space!