Set in 2002, the catalyst of the drama is the opening of the
House of Terror museum in Budapest in the former headquarters of the Hungarian
equivalents of both the SS and, later, the KGB. The family matriarch, Erzsike
(Mia Dillon), who worked as a secretary in the building, discovers that her
portrait has been hung on the museum’s “wall of perpetrators.”
Conflict…thy name is Judit (Birgit Huppuch), Erzsike’s
estranged daughter reluctantly reuniting with the family on the occasion of
their first Seder. Judit, ever the controversial activist and now curating the
exhibit, launches into a tirade of accusations and denunciation against her
mother. Huppuch’s passionate portrayal is relentless and in-your-face, infusing
the role with palpable fury, her actions, expressions and demeanor as voluble
as her accusations.
Dillon transitions smoothly from the distress of this
confrontation to the past as flashbacks haunt her and she seeks to defend the
morality of her actions. Huppuch and Dillon are powerful in their respective
roles, and the drama that unfolds is riveting.
Gancher wisely injects humor into the situation, which might
otherwise have been uncomfortably dark and depressing. Steven Rattazzi, the
American neighbor David, a comic figure with an exaggerated accent
(nationality?), is relentless and diverting in his attempt to restore order and
make this Seder “happen.” Julia Sirna-Frest, as Margit, the younger sister, and
Dustin Ingram, as brother Laci, try to make light of a hopeless situation,
Ingram mocking Rattazzi’s accent and Sirna-Frest calmly affecting normalcy.
Erzsike’s “I am one person, a woman. What could I do?” is a
question that is sure to reverberate in the minds of theatergoers, as is scenic
designer Nick Vaughan’s “wall of perpetrators.” Exceptional direction by
Elizabeth Williamson and fight choreography by Greg Webster. Kudos to Laura
Stanczyk on her choice of this superb cast.