In her one-woman show, “Golda’s Balcony,” Broadway actress Tovah Feldshuh summons Zionist titan Golda Meir with such authenticity that you can almost smell the reeking scent of decay as the old woman looks back on a life of passion, sorrow and responsibility so intense it could crush a woman's soul.
A Russian exile who grew up in Milwaukee and later raised chickens in a Palestinian kibbutz, Meir (1898-1978) fell in love with politics while in her teens, and then followed her calling down a path of greatness, even when it came at some cost to her health, family and personal life.
In the William Gibson bio-play at the Alliance Theatre through Oct. 30, Feldshuh’s Meir reflects on a career that found her arm-wrestling U.S. presidents and diplomats, and building an underground nuclear factory that became a double-edged sword of power and muscle — and potential world destruction. Meir could have stayed in the kitchen making matzoh balls; instead, she chose to visit morgues and witness the bodies of Hebrew boys who died with stones clutched in their fists.
In wig, fat suit, and makeup that causes her to appear old and sallow, Feldshuh’s physical transformation is stunning, her skills of mimicry considerable. In real life, the performer is beautiful, petite and graceful; as the lusty, chain-smoking, mannish Meir, she is dowdy and borderline grotesque — down to the one oversized, phlebitis-afflicted leg.
Not only does this astonishingly gifted actress channel the idiosyncrasies and contradictions of the steely yet tender-hearted Israeli leader; she also gets to portray the leader comically impersonating those around her — her overwrought mother, her husband and grandchildren, and her all-male circle of colleagues, with their many flaws and foibles.
Feldshuh does a hilarious Henry Kissinger, her take on King Abdullah I of Jordan is elegant and poignant, and Meir's wry aside about Israeli military leader Moshe Dayan’s philandering is a hoot. “I always wondered if he took off the patch,” Feldshuh’s Meir said of Dayan, who was blind in one eye.
One caveat: While it might be a bit taxing for this actress to project the screams, rants and tirades of her character for the duration of the 90-minute act, the use of a microphone sometimes creates a layer of artificiality and crunchiness. (By the way, if there’s a noisy child in the house, don’t be surprised if Feldshuh improvises with some very long pauses until quiet is restored.)
By turns delightful and sobering, “Golda’s Balcony” is a dazzling tour de force that functions as history lesson and primer on cold-war politics in the aftermath of World War II, the Holocaust and the nuclear age. Meir’s story was riddled with doubt and regret, with sadness and despair, with lapses in judgment and long sleepless nights. She felt great compassion for innocent children and the soldiers who fought for Israel with Stars of David on their uniforms.
While she was haunted with guilt over Israel’s development of atomic weapons, she felt a greater need to protect and honor the 6 million Jews who died at the hands of the Nazis. “Never again” was inscribed on the nuclear warheads, and that’s just one of the mind-blowing details that will startle and surprise you in this riveting, deeply moving evening of theater.
In transforming herself so fully and fearlessly into Meir, down to the sags and the warts and the acrid smell of cigarette smoke, Feldshuh is superb.
Theater review
“Golda’s Balcony”
Grade: A
7:30 p.m. Tuesdays-Thursdays and Sundays. 8 p.m. Fridays-Saturdays. 2:30 p.m. Saturdays-Sundays. Through Oct. 30. $25-$50. Alliance Theatre, Woodruff Arts Center, 1280 Peachtree St. N.E., Atlanta. 404-733-5000, alliancetheatre.org
Bottom line: Rich and powerful. Feldshuh is mesmerizing as the iron-gloved Israeli prime minister.
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