Laura Weis on “Beautiful Resistance”

Laura Weis and I went to see “Beautiful Resistance” and I am pleased to share her reflection on that evening…

I saw a play on Saturday, July 12, 2008. It was called Beautiful Resistance, and the performance captivated me from start to finish. It prompted recollection of events and emotions in my own life, while at the same time shook me with its portrayal of a situation I’ve not experienced and can barely imagine. It educated and it exposed. It acknowledged and challenged assumptions; admitted and confronted fears; and agonized over and embraced not knowing all the answers. It was a multi-sensory experience, visual and voice, movement and music, and it both communicated to and invited response from the audience. It resonated.

The experience began the moment you walked in the door and joined a slow-moving line to wait to obtain your passport (ticket) and get past the checkpoint (into the theatre). Watched from above and intimidated along the way, we playgoers were not in control of our fates. How to react? I saw bewilderment, solemn recognition, a few giggles (promptly silenced), willing compliance, and a bit of attitude. Real or imagined, I couldn’t help but feel a creeping tension as people glanced over their shoulders, unsure of the rules, and whispered acknowledgement of shared uncertainty about what came next. It was effective. A mere glimpse of an unfathomable, unknown reality thousands of miles away.

Once settled in our seats (not without some forced, arbitrary reassigning by aggressive Israeli soldiers), members of the audience were invited to offer instances from their lives when they felt certain emotions – intense anger, absolute joy, total helplessness – to be interpreted through improvised movement and music by members of the cast. The technique, known as “playback theatre,” was woven into the beginning and ending of the performance, as a means to honor the experiences of the audience in tandem with the experiences of those portrayed in the play.

At this point, we met Magan, who stepped onstage to offer a time when she felt totally helpless. As she swirled away from life’s familiarities and comforts, mind racing, we were transported with her to the West Bank, where, upon arrival, her eyes were pulled open. It struck me that she did not minimize her fears or deny that she held certain assumptions before, and at times during, her travels. And she did not appear to manipulate her response to her new circumstances in light of what she’d read, been taught, or been told in preparation for the trip. As someone who has noticed a tendency in herself to sometimes stifle initial reactions to unfamiliar surroundings – intellectualizing, perhaps, or concentrating almost exclusively on what others have said they felt – rather than simply experiencing the full feeling, no matter what it is, I appreciated this candid portrayal. It gave audience members space, I think, to reflect on any preconceptions we too might have, while offering an honest depiction of one woman’s actual experiences and encounters that might confirm, confuse, or contradict our own ideas.

Throughout the play, we saw Magan as an observer, documenting with her camera; as a friend, laughing and conversing with Fayrouz in Balata refugee camp; as an activist, confronting Israeli soldiers at a checkpoint. We encountered creative coping and cautious optimism, and we saw the tragic impact on individuals of ongoing violence and humiliation. We met a moonwalking Hamas soldier, who, we learned, was later killed, but left behind a poignant message of hope for the future of Palestine. We witnessed a birthday celebration and girl talk interrupted by the sounds of gunfire and a momentary admission, “I hate this life.” And near the end of the play, we watched as Magan and her companions worked with a young girl traumatized by memories of Israeli soldiers forcing their way into her house at night. They tried, valiantly, to act out a different ending, a better ending, to her real life nightmare. Then we in the audience had a chance to suggest alternate endings. A two-state solution? Predictable. What if the soldiers never come? A happy thought…

It was easy to feel discouraged after the performance, with its unanswered questions and uncertain ending. It’s unlikely all parties involved will be happy or satisfied. Some people will say they have everyone’s best interests at heart, and that their plan, their solution, is best. Others will know better, but may not be listened to or even asked. And maybe most of this audience was familiar with the particulars of the U.S. government’s unwavering financial and military support for Israel’s policies of economic marginalization and violent suppression, its complicity in relegating Palestinians to live as prisoners in their own land. But what about the great majority of the U.S. public? How to even begin to generate enough awareness and outcry to bring any meaningful pressure to bear on policymakers for a new direction in such entrenched U.S. foreign policy?

So what is to be done? How will this story end? For the people of Palestine and Israel? For the audience? For me? As the use of playback theatre so wonderfully illustrated, we all have experiences to draw upon and a role to play in figuring it out.