The word "hero" is abused in our culture. It is applied so casually, it ceases to have real meaning. So when a legitimate example of heroism emerges, it humbles us all. Such is the power of Irena's Vow, the true story of Irena Gut Opdyke and the 12 Jews she hid in occupied Poland during World War II.
Now playing at the Walter Kerr Theatre, the 90-minute production is awe-inspiring, with enough dramatic moments to keep you on the edge of your seat.
Irena (Tovah Feldshuh), a young Polish-Catholic woman, suffered terribly in occupied Poland. Separated from her family, she is sent to a forced labor camp to supervise 12 Jews in a makeshift tailor shop. By sheer luck, thanks as much to her good looks as her facility with German, she meets a powerful Nazi major (Thomas Ryan), who insists she become his housekeeper. That assignment will allow Irena, who has watched the Nazis slaughter innocent men, women and children, a rare opportunity. Learning that Poland's Jews are to be exterminated, she decides to hide her 12 friends. Where she chooses is ingenious; the actual hiding place doubles as a quick history lesson in Eastern European Jewish life.
The 12 Jews are represented by three: Lazar Hallar (Gene Silvers), his wife Ida (Maja C. Wampuszyc) and Fanka Silberman (Tracee Chimo). They are a collective portrait of dignity in debased, terrifying circumstances. They cling to Judaism, even as their lives are imperiled. They make decisions democratically; one of particular import. Ironically, they are secondary characters in the drama; the story is Irena's: her sacrifices, her compromised personal circumstances.
Inevitably, the town begins to suspect the major is secretly harboring Jews, an accusation investigated by the fierce Sturmbannfuhrer Rokita (John Stanisci). Those moments are among the most gut-wrenching. For a young woman, Irena is remarkably quick-witted, as are her hidden friends. Together, they form an effective resistance against a cruel world.
The ensemble is uniformly excellent. Feldshuh, who is astounding, has a tough task: telling Irena's tale as both the elderly Irena and the younger woman. Yet she manages with a quiet, understated strength. She looks nothing like the exquisite Irena, shown in projections, but to her credit, she captures her essence. (Irena Gut Opdyke died in 2003. Her name is placed next to Oskar Schindler's on the wall honoring the Righteous Among the Nations in Jerusalem.)
Dan Gordon's script is effective at gleaning the drama and ethical imperatives in Irena's tale, yet he punctuates them with occasional comic moments to cut the unending terror. The story has many twists and turns, particularly the ending. His play is mounted with sensitivity by Michael Parva, who directs this production with care.
Holocaust survivors of every description - camp survivors, partisans, those who risked their lives to save Jews - are dying; we are the last generation to hear their stories first-hand. In future, their stories will be told, as Irena's is, by others. To bear witness to her experience is both an obligation and a privilege. Irena is motivated by her moral beliefs and her trust in God. But for the hidden Jews, she fulfills the Torah's dictum: "He who saves a life, saves the world entire."
There are several stellar dramas on Broadway; this one is a must.