On May 8, 2012, third-year students from Yoram Loewenstein's Performing Arts Studio spent the evening at a fancy Tel Aviv restaurant. It was a good-bye party of sorts. They were well aware of the fact that the next morning at 8:30, their fellow student, Chen Barel, who was lying in the hospital unconscious and intubated, would be disconnected from the machines that were keeping her heart beating. “The show must go on” might be one of the most overused clichés, but for the 21 Loewenstein students, these are the words they've been repeating in an effort to overcome the intense trauma they all suffered. Together they're trying to understand how this event has affected their lives. And so it is coming to pass, that a year and a half after the closing performance of the rock opera I wrote called Srul, it is being brought back to life with the original cast of the 2012 third-year Loewenstein Studio class. I summoned each and every actor, as if they were being called up for military reserve duty, and every single one showed up. And just like during reserve duty, all the old jokes, ancient rivalries and of course, the mixed memories of Barel, have resurfaced. Nothing could have prepared them for what happened that fateful summer evening two years ago. They had gathered at Yoram Loewenstein's house for his annual birthday party. At some point, Barel – who was up on the roof – tripped and fell and hit her head. Einav Barlevy, an actress in the rock opera, “heard a loud noise and then there was silence. An ambulance arrived and we soon understood that Chen was brain dead.” The students from Barel's acting class stayed by her side in the hospital for three days until she was disconnected from life support. After that, they spent their time comforting each other and preparing the song they would sing at her funeral. Loewenstein decided the best way for the students to deal with the shock and grief of their colleague's death was to carry on with business as usual. They stuck to their regular schedule, including rehearsals for the new production. Barlevy recalls, “After the funeral, we went out to eat together and we all agreed that we would show up for rehearsals the following day.” Alex Carol, another performer from the rock opera, adds, “I disagreed with this decision. I suggested that we not show up for rehearsals. In retrospect, I understand that the decision to bring us all together at the studio was a wise and brave one. If we hadn't, not only would our show not have gotten off the ground, but the entire studio might have fallen to pieces.” Barlevy adds, “At first, we were all angry with Yoram for making us carry on with rehearsals. But his intentions were pure, and in the end his assessment that this would be the best way for us to grieve was correct.” And this is how all the third-year students minus one regrouped for an intensive period of study to finish off their studies. They worked hard to create a quality show and also to deal with the tragedy, each in her or his own way, but also together as a team. Inbar Danon, one of the third-year students, recalls how, “Before we began working on Srul, we performed a children's show called Momo, which was a joint production with Mediatheque Theater. Chen did not have an easy time at the studio. Not everyone thought she was a talented actress. She wasn't really considered one of the star actors.” Barlevy recalls how “Chen fought like an animal to survive.” Danon adds, “In short, when the playwright Ido Riklin and the director Rafi Niv came to do auditions, right in front of all of us Ido said Chen was the best actress in our class and he chose her for the lead role.” So this was the reality I stepped into in the summer of 2012. The rock opera Srul had changed form a few times by the time director Moshe Kaftan initiated the collaboration between the Loewenstein Studio and the Cameri Theater, which held the rights to the show. Serendipitously, this very same class of students was chosen to put on the show again. I hadn't met any of the actors before. And I was not aware of their unique story. I admit that I didn't notice anything unusual at the time. Because of the intensity of rehearsals for the musical, which has turned out to be a first-rate production, I didn't have time to sit with the actors and hear about the trauma they experienced. And I certainly didn't know that there was a strikingly chilling resemblance between the main character in the play, who grew up in Kiryat Motzkin with no father figure in his life, and had serious emotional hardships that led him to attempted suicide, and Alex Carol, who played this character. Only now, as we are putting the last touches on the reopening of this rock opera, have I begun to get a sense of the real picture. The rock opera Srul will be performed at Tzavta Theater in Tel Aviv on June 20 at 2 p.m. Translated by Hannah Hochner.
