The Off-Broadway Theatre Review: NYTW’s Becoming Eve
By Ross
“You used the word ’emergency’ yesterday,” states a progressive, young rabbi named Jonah to the frantic Chava as she races around this modest synagogue, bathed in the stress and anxiety of someone about to go into some sort of heated battle or debate. And both would be applicable in NYTW‘s gorgeously rendered Becoming Eve, as Chava, played robustly by Tommy Dorfman (Broadway’s Romeo + Juliet), is about to attempt to stand tall, with the help of Jonah and a handful of difficult to interpret holy texts, and basically come out authentically to her Tati, her Ultra-Orthodox father, played with extreme skill and precisiness by Richard Schiff (“The West Wing“). And it’s clear it’s not going to be greeted with open arms and heart.
The act, as many of us know and understand on some level, is a brave, solid moment of truth-telling wrapped in fear and concern, as Jonah reminds the nervous Chava, to both support her in the telling to her beloved father the truth about his “firstborn son“, before someone else does. Thus, the emergency, because Chava, who has been praying her whole life to be the girl she feels she is on the inside, when the soul and the body are in mismatch, has to be the one to do the telling, before community gossip can enter in before she has this moment with her father. And she has the text to make her point. “Should we talk strategy?” asks the now-equally nervous Jonah, played beautifully by an impressive Brandon Uranowitz (Broadway’s Leopoldstadt), because Chava’s father, who is on his way, is a well-respected rabbi, who comes from a long line of renowned rabbis and educators and is a descendant of Baal Shem Tov, the founder of Hasidic Judaism. So, in no simple way, this debate is going to be a battle between faith, tradition, family, pride, and the understanding of an alternate view of the soul within our body. And no one really sees the opening, unless the sacred text can make the case.
The text being used is the cornerstone of this emotionally complex and entirely engrossing story, etched and written by Emil Weinstein (Amazon’s “A League of Their Own“) in thoughtful contemplation around transition and tradition. Chava has been raised Ultra-Orthodox Jewish by a solid and well-respected family, headed by her rabbi educator father and the loving, respectable Mami, played elegantly by the always soulful Judy Kuhn (CSC’s Assassins; Broadway’s Fun Home), yet she has always prayed to God to have her body match her soul. She didn’t want to have her first haircut at the age of three, like boys do in the traditional ‘upsherin’ ceremony, which means ‘shearing off’ in Yiddish. She would prefer spending her time cooking with her mother and learning about the lighting of candles for the Sabbath, rather than spending time with her father praying and learning how to become a man.
She knew this from the beginning, and the feeling only grew stronger over time, as depicted with grace and care by the use of flashback puppetry, maneuvered majestically by two expert puppeteers, Justin Otaki Perkins and Emma Wiseman. We step backwards with purpose care, utilizing those well crafted puppet constructs, designed and directed impeccably by Amanda Villalobos (MCC’s Wolf Play), to chronicle the fractured life from childhood to adulthood; through the traditions of her ‘Bar Mitzvah’, her marriage to the open and adoring Fraidy, played with loving care by Tedra Millan (TNG’s Happy Talk), becoming a parent to a son, and the moment of reckoning, when she has to admit to Fraidy and herself that she must leave the fold and forge a new life elsewhere.
That new beginning must be outside of Brooklyn and the strict confines of the Orthodox community she has called home for her whole ‘pretend’ life as the ‘son’ of Tati and Mami. She has spent that whole time only speaking Yiddish, as the three speak now, throughout the play (although the cast really are only speaking English but we are informed that it is actually Yiddish that they are using to communicate with each other, with a lot of quick, well-written asides from Tati talking down to the more open Jonah about his modest and progressive synagogue). This new life of hers is not going to be easy, that becomes crystal clear, nor will it be within the safety and comfort of the community she grew up in.
The historical backward-looking scenes play out in chronological order, showcasing, using different puppets to show the growth and intellectual advancement of Chava, from crying about the loss of her hair, to staring over with yearning at her mother lighting the candles for the Shabbat, while her father tries to teach her about manly subjects like prayer and development. Most carry a huge emotional weight, to varying degrees. There’s the sweetest of engagements between Chava and her yeshiva study partner/friend, Chesky, played beautifully by Rad Pereira (-), who also shares a fascination for some of the more complicated androgynous text, before sharing their first emotionally true kiss. But quickly, in the subsequent scene, that connectivity is taken away from them, as he is sent off to get married in Toronto. The loss is heavy and haunting, but it is as expected, as Chava knows the same will be expected of them soon enough.
Dorfman and the rest of the cast envelope each scene with strong emotional truth that adds layer after layer of heartfelt sadness on top of the anxiety and fear we all share with Dorfman’s fully realized character. The way Dorfman haunts the past space when the puppet takes over for her out-of-line body is telling on more levels than one can describe easily. It sounds like an absurd idea, this use of different puppets to showcase Chava’s development to the intelligent, educated woman who we get to know throughout this one-act wonder of a play, but the system delivers the stance in ways we can’t really comprehend. Yet, it feels so right that the body and voice are coming from different spaces in the room, reminding us of their spiritual separation and disconnection. And Dorfman does a perfect job presenting the clenched-fisted anxiety and fear that is being played out by a puppet that fully grows up before our eyes, but floats just out of reach.
The puppetry adds layers of otherness and soulful disconnection, while also injecting such love and empathy for the young child in conflict with their inner self, their family, their religion, and the community that was the center of their life from the day they were born. But with quick, sharp lighting cues, designed carefully by Ben Stanton (Broadway’s Maybe Happy Ending), on a set created with care by Arnulfo Maldonado (Broadway’s Buena Vista Social Club) matched with a solid sound design by UptownWorks (Bailey Trierweller, Daniela Har, Noel Nichols; Geffen’s Tiny Father) and perfect costumes by Enver Chakartash (Broadway’s Stereophonic), the emotional return creates a space of loving understanding and care for the child who isn’t one with her own soul. It’s carefully crafted and thoughtfully written by Weinstein, powerfully based on the memoir, “Becoming Eve: My Journey from Ultra Orthodox Rabbi to Transgender Woman” by Abby Chava Stein (Sources of Pride). We can feel the authenticity and authority with which her tale is being told, thanks to the ingenious direction by Tyne Rafaeli (2ST’s Spain), who balances the past with the present with compassion and pain, finding humanity even within the strict confines of Tati and the traditions he holds onto with fearful determination.
“What if this is a miracle?” asks Becoming Eve as it digs into recycled shame and flies forward in a transformation that overpowers the senses and embodies our soul. “What did you think was going to happen?” the play asks, as it breaks our heart and connects to our soul, especially anyone who has had to “just do it” and come out to anyone who we fear might push us away for being our true authentic self in broad daylight, walking with pride down a Manhattan street, believing in our spiritual right to exist and be loved. The play, produced by New York Theater Workshop on the lovely Abrons Arts Center stage, interprets history and tradition in the most powerfully divine and engaging manner, exposing the cost of pretending, and embracing the difficulty of being different and honest, inside and out. “The harder you knead it, the softer it gets,” we are reminded by Becoming Eve, and through text and deliverance, we feel blessed to be in the room for this transformational moment. This play is what the world needs right now. Don’t miss it.
