She 2010...First coverage and mucho excitimondo

Well, we have been invited to the Lik Festival by Grigory Kofman (the nice Russian director from the bench in Kiryat Motzkin). Liron and Linor spoke to Nico to propose the task of adapting and directing Chekhov's Spirit Of The Forest for 7 actors, 1 and a half hours and, er, a forest. Nico is in Romania and says that they are all too nice to him there and it is unnatural. In celebration we opened a pleasant bottle of wine and created a bar-type arrangement in the corridor.

Last week Linor took some lovely pictures of Dorit and me for the She Festival (see Woman In the Wall for more on my piece). Some very exciting contortions occurred, many of them involving a ladder.

Our first mention of the year on ynet can be found here. In a brief translation/summary, The Karov Theatre will present a variety of female performers through various media including participants from Berlin and London. Watch this space as The Woman In The Wall grows within various Karov corners. Briut xx

היש משם - The Man From There. Holocaust Memorial Day at the Karov

National Holocaust Day in Israel is like nothing on earth. I went to three commemorative events, the first being a beautiful evening ceremony at the Cameri. Opening with a children's choir, followed by candle-lighting by survivors and solo vocal and guitar performances, the ceremony was incredibly moving. I liked that it was all in Ivrit although I only literally understood 20-30%...but the meaning of everything was clear. Even clearer though was the indescribable union of every person present. I went with J, L and others from the South American contingent. I loved this because after a particularly special piece of music or story J would lean to me and say, "Beautiful, so beautiful." and it was all my favourite moments too.

A lot of people here of my generation and situation are in Israel for the memory, purpose and carrying the word of their great-uncles, aunts and others who died in the Holocaust. My father's family, although Ashkenazim, were okay because they left Eastern Europe (to our knowledge) in the late, er, 20s maybe. My mother's uncles, however, both suffered acutely in the Second World War although they were Sephardic and grew up in Iraq, Persia then Palestine - moving around with my great-grandfather's work as he travelled as principal of the Alliance Francaise. In the late 30s my grandmother went to study at the Surbonne in Paris but then had to leave to go to England because of the war. She had two younger brothers. The middle one, Sammy, was captured and had half his face destroyed in the Second World War. I don't know how long he was imprisoned for. After the war, however, he went on to marry and have children but his wife died when they were 12, 9 and 4 and Sammy sought even further refuge in the shop he owned. He died in 1996. I don't ever remember meeting him but there is one photo of him holding me as a baby. His middle daughter Timna (my mother's first cousin) is my mother in Israel and one of my best friends. My youngest great-uncle Marco took his own life shortly after being sent to fight in France at the beginning of the Second World War. He was 21. My grandmother was the last family member to see him alive. It is him I remember (or rather don't) with particular...I don't know what, but something.

On the morning of 12 April itself a siren sounded at 10am to mark the start of a minute's silence. The whole Oranim program was at a special memorial at Ironi Yud Bet - the school where we have Ulpan. To be honest, it was something of a shambles because the construction work going on outside was so loud we could hear neither the siren nor the speeches or songs by teachers and pupils which followed.

The Man From There (היש משם) was written by Holocaust survivor Tuvia Ornan and directed by Dorit. In it we see the quintessential young Israeli couple at the start of their married life. They are brash and materialistic, she is pregnant, and there is a questionable third party involved - a young man returning at intervals from business abroad, laden with various bits of eurotrash. Amongst all this we have Grandma whose survival of the Shoah is best forgotten or at least ignored...who knows what cans of worms it might open up.

And finally, as we suspend disbelief and peel the layers of our own doubt, we have Moishe: a young man who has lived through Auschwitz to the present day, witnessing the creation of Israel and maintaining his youth and memory. Whilst maintaining an age-old friendship with the grandmother, Moishe proposes an unusual business plan to his contemporary counterparts: a present-day Auschwitz to educate the Israelis of the 21st Century complete with original layout, function and Nazi commanders. Sensing a monetary opportunity, the present-day men comply and relationships, friendships and moral judgement are thrown into chaos.

The kind of modern play which merges time-travel, family drama and social commentary doesn't generally wash with me. However, in the context of Yom Ha Shoah, The Man From There trod the fine balance of past and present, fantasy and reality, and the inevitable questions for modern Jews, particularly in Israel:

In giving birth to our children and then our grandchildren and their children, how do we lighten this burden from prejudice and scapegoating that is so recent? We must never, never forget and this must never happen again. And in the State of Israel - a developed homeland with a democracy where Western living is permitted and modernisation a key component, how can we look back to look forward without the gross intervention of materialism?

Afterwards the writer answered questions which was very moving, particularly those of the young Israelis soldiers in the audience (18-24ish) who started the evening looking bored as whatever and ended it completely engaged and full of thoughts and questions. I can't remember what they were now (they had to be translated for me) but there is something very warm about Israeli audiences on nights such as this. There are tears without sentimentality and people say things they mean.

If you are reading this and are in Israel, please, please come to the Karov. It's a very special place.

With love,

Alexa.

Shapira - 2nd installment: Alexa and friends

PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE.

Hello. Welcome to Clinca Karov...4 shows for 100nis and an exclusive appointment with "Doktor Cultura" aka Rafael Adi and a scant ushering service courtesy of Achot Alexa.

In the tiny Shapira neighbourhood, men, women and children flocked to songs, sounds and tambourines to learn about Nico Nitai's Karov Theatre.



Although we were stationed a 3-minute walk from the Tachana Merkazit (Central Bus Station), few new friends knew about us although most were familiar with Nico's name and work.
Rafi and I thus created our own bus stop with the aid of an amiable tree, bringing the Karov's location into our larksome playtimes.

For the most part I donned a tambourine.






Alexa and friends:
Left we have the beautiful Linor (chief photographer), pictured in schoolgirl get-up complete with cigarettes and fetching hair ribbon.

Doctor Rafi indulges in a little risque peeping Tomness and Alexa wears an authentic shawl from backstage.

Below we have Liron - a symphony in turquoise and veritable songbird of the Karov quintet. She can ring my bells any day.

Also pictured below is Rudi...lead singer and guitarist of Rutsi Buba and very talented at other things besides. He used to be in-house tech manager at the Karov in the days before girlfriend Linor became resident production manager. You can see me clapping along to the beat in the background. You don't have to look that carefully.