Review: THE GAZA MONOLOGUES Moves (and Moves With) the Audience at Peñasco Theater

In the mountain village of Peñasco, New Mexico, to an audience of youth and adults where everyone seemed to know each other, four actors (two of them, teenagers) performed powerfully a style of theater that I had never seen before--yet which seemed so natural, an organic expression of that unique community. The theater has harvested its strengths--acrobatics and circus camps for youth, collaborations with multiple artistic communities locally and abroad, political activism--for a fresh version of a popular show: The Gaza Monologues, 31 personal stories written by Palestinian youth who lived through the '08-'09 war on Gaza.

Needless to say, these youth from Gaza come from very different circumstances than the actors in Peñasco--across so many borders; through so many traumas. It is powerful enough that these monologues were even written, let alone transferred to the New Mexico stage (and multiple other stages around the globe). Yet all that power would be meaningless if the actors could not complete this transfer, and deliver the piece to their own unique context.

Peñasco does deliver, and more: they add something of themselves. The whole show was an acrobatic dance--one actor uplifted by her ensemble as if in flight, another walking down the thin railing of the audience risers, a dynamic exploration of a simple wooden chair, a touching twisting dance with the actors holding a can between their forehead. These and other acrobatics were so wildly expressive that--unlike conventional theatrical blocking--the movement alone would be enough to entertain the audience and justify the ticket cost. When intermingled with the monologues, however, the movement elevated multiple dimensions of meaning and emotion-which text by itself could never capture.

This intermingling was sometimes clumsy. There is an inherent dissonance between spectacular acrobatics and heart-wrenching accounts of war. Moreover, the intense focus that these acrobatics require leaves little room in the actors' concentration for emotional connections to the text. As a result, the delivery too-frequently waned into declarative statements--canned deliveries where the actors did not seem to be experiencing the intense memories and realities they were describing.

Maybe if directors Rebekah Tarin and Serena Rascon had not added the acrobatic blocking, the actors would have had more opportunity to focus on their feelings. One of the most effective monologues was also the only one where the actor, Kayo Muller, sat still. As result Muller could drive her story, about a friend who was killed by a bomb, with full and careful nuance to a devastating whispered final memorial. Yet, because this show was rooted in movement, moments like this--of quiet, feeling focus--were lacking.

Maybe in future shows, the theater could explore stories closer to home (writing their own monologues, perhaps) so it might be easier for actors to connect with the text while in acrobatics. In the meantime, despite my critique, the Peñasco company and community should be proud of this production: they have accomplished a unique style, and well. I have seen a good many quiet, feeling moments on several stages. But last Sunday was the first time I saw actors' bodies completely express the meaning of the text: movement transforming a simple welded piece of metal into so many symbols (a cage, playground, boat, etc.), each symbol bringing the story closer from the abstract Middle East--to the physical world all around us.

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