It tires me out just thinking about it.
The play, produced at Stage 2 of Barrington Stage, which I saw tonight, is based on a novel of the same name by Chaim Potok. It was made into a play by Aaron Posner, who also directed it.
It deals with a young, Orthodox Jewish boy growing up in a rigid, restrictive home in Brooklyn, who becomes a famous artist but loses his orthodoxy in the process, much to his parents dismay.
Adam Green as Asher Lev gives a powerful performance which is practically a monologue. For an hour and a half he relates his trials, tribulations, and guilt as he progresses from a strict observer of orthodox Jewish mores to a guilty, secular artist. This story is very possibly based on Chaim Potok's own life, in which he went through a similar metamorphosis.
Daniel Cantor as 'The Men', portrays Asher Lev's father, his uncle, the Rebbe, and the artist who takes Asher under his wing, bringing about his fall from grace. He is wonderful in all of these personae with minimal changes of costume.Renata Friedman as 'The Women' is Asher's mother, an art critic, and a naked art model. She is equally good in these roles, with and without her clothes. 
This is a touching story but is a bit awkward as a play with only three actors. When the parents are speaking to Asher when he is six or ten or twelve, he crouches at the side of the stage to deliver his lines while they speak to an empty chair. This really bothered me. Why not speak to him personally and allow the audience to envision him as a child. He would raise his voice in each case to give the illusion of youth which, to me, would be enough to convince me that he was very young. It kept going through my mind, 'Why are they talking to a chair when he is sitting right there in the corner?'
A very bare set consisting of a table and three chairs set the scene for this one act play.
The idea of this kind of guilt is very bothersome to me, probably because I grew up as a Presbyterian. No guilt there! I did attend Union Theological Seminary in New York City where I got my Master of Sacred Music Degree, but somehow I escaped the need to feel this life-crunching guilt. If I hurt someone, I'm sorry about it. But I don't turn it into a life-long beating of my breast the way the characters in this play do.
I think that any society that is rigid and orthodox to this point, be it Jewish, Christian, or Muslim, will produce this kind of guilt. There is more to life than this.
As you can tell, I am conflicted, (guilty?) about this work for the stage. It must have been a powerful novel but in translation to the stage it puzzles me.
