Can you fix a broken heart?
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| Photo by Dan Norman |
One of the unfortunate side effects of America’s broken educational system is that it completely prevents a nuanced understanding of the world. Take, for example, the average American’s cultural understanding of the Middle East. Do they understand the difference between Persian and Arab? Sunni and Shiite and Wahabi Muslims? Do they know there are dominant religions present other than Islam, and the cultural traditions that transcend religion to provide commonalities between them all?
Frequently the answer is no or not really, and that lack of detail is crucial. People vote for elected officials to conduct policy decisions on behalf of American citizens without knowing the full story of the places that will be affected, inevitably creating potential for enormously disastrous policy choices.
What’s the fix? Taking the burden upon ourselves to become informed citizens and invest time in growing our understanding and perspective of people and places different from us. What’s the best way to do it?
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Surely one of the most fun (if not impactful) is to watch boundary-pushing theater like Noura, now showing at Guthrie Theater. Noura tells the story of an Iraqi Christian refugee named Noura who has lived in New York City with her family for the last decade. Aside from her best friend Rafa’a, who is an Iraqi Muslim refugee and close childhood friend, Noura is isolated from her community – her family has fled their home in Mosul and now lives in locations scattered across the globe. Her isolation and longing for past tradition is a key reason she is so intent on “adopting” Maryam, another refugee from Mosul – but with much different memories of the life and culture she left behind. There are several revealing twists that deeply impact the characters’ relationships to each other that I will not reveal here, but they are just as heartbreaking as the circumstances the characters flee. Noura leaves the audience with a deep ache and a slightly closer understanding to the immense grief faced by those who have to flee their homes without knowing if they will ever see them again.
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| Photo by Dan Norman |
As Noura, Gamze Ceylan is moving and confined, conveying an almost crazed appetite for comfort and familiarity. Watching Ceylan unravel is difficult but vital, and she fully takes us all down with her. Fajer Kaisi is shocking as Noura’s husband Tareq, with a few choice lines that had even the most stoic audience members clutching their pearls. Kal Naga is the ultimate homme fatale (can I do that?) as Noura’s friend Rafa’a, and he seemed easily the most reasonable and open minded character to me. Layan Elwazani plays Maryam with a quiet defiance, displaying a strength I found magnetic the longer the performance went on. And Aarya Batchu was fine as Noura’s son Yazen.
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| Photo by Dan Norman |
The production design, like the cast and the script itself, is a study in scarcity, leaving most things to liminal spaces in between what’s actually said. Matt Saunders’ scenic design constructs an apartment out of brightly marked shipping crates; what should feel like a cozy home instead feels like a sterile pass-through. Dina El Aziz delivers some quietly elegant costume design that I genuinely coveted, and it felt very New York City. Reza Behjat and Sinan Refik Zafar provide equally staid lighting and sound design, respectively, literal enough to place us in the present but suggestive enough to impart little ghostly whispers that infuse even the most seemingly loving interactions with a chilly fear.
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| Photo by Dan Norman |
The last time I saw a Taibi Magar-directed production it was Familiar, easily one of my top five favorite shows of all time. Noura is a much more difficult beast to love – it’s not funny or winsome or, well, familiar – but it still has very important things to say and displays Magar’s impeccable attention to detail. I learned so many nuances to Iraqi history and culture that I didn’t before, and wept inwardly to think of the many real-life people who have been left in a position just like Noura’s. Crises like refugee migration, terrorist attacks and invasion of nations are not problems with easy solutions, and you won’t leave this play filled with answers. Instead, Noura asks all of us to come with closed mouths and open ears, simply to receive a story of grief and heartache, and to try not to repeat the mistakes of our past. To do a little better next time. To find a way, any way, to help our fellow neighbor – because we never know when it will next be us. I’m so glad the Guthrie decided to tell not only Noura‘s story but other stories as part of the Arab diaspora, and I highly encourage you to check out their work this month. For more information about Noura, to buy tickets, or to research other shows as part of the Guthrie’s upcoming Arab series, click on this link.
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| Photo by Dan Norman |
