Private Invesigator play.
(photo credit: Gadi Dagon)
Private Investigator is a dense, impassioned, sometimes close to bleak piece.
Despair lurks, until slashes of humor and hope send it back to its
Yes. Here and there it sags a bit.
Never mind. It is
one of the finest, most intelligent, challenging and absorbing pieces of theater
I have seen in a long time.
Who are we? What are we? One or many? What
brings us together or pulls us apart? Where do I end and you begin? “Only
connect,” as E.M.Forster has famously said. But is that true? PI seems to be
asking these questions through a so ordinary story line. Mrs Wietzman (Irit
Pashtan) comes to the PI (Nir Ron). She wants him to find her husband (Erez
Shafrir), who has been missing for five days. From the beginning, the
coincidences pile up. Or do they? Nothing is what it seems. Relationships,
encounters, incidents huddle and separate, orchestrated by a billowing,
swelling, now stormy, now quiescent fabric sea that the actors
PI is set in a skewed, decaying urban landscape by Svetlana
Breger. Judit Aharon’s meticulous costumes supply what color there is. Yoni
Rechter’s deceptively simple melodies complement the dramatic tension of
Schubert’s tragic Erlkönig, while Sharon Stark’s atmospheric lighting pulls it
The cadaverous Nir Ron beautifully underplays the PI. He
always seems to be holding back, to be on the point of, never completely
committing, and therefore looms powerful.
Irit Pashtan is very believably
unbelievable, shifty almost, as Mrs. Weitzman. “Tell her I’m alive,” the missing
husband says to the PI. He isn’t. Not really, and Erez Shafrir puts that
Sisters Bettine and Minna, very different the one from
the other, are sensitively portrayed by Carmit Mesilati-Kaplan and Orit Gal,
Indeed, the acting in this production is excellent, an
ensemble in every sense of the word. Ariel Wolf as Michael needs to get a bit
more experience under his belt – but he’s in good hands. Go see this
play. Do yourselves a favor.