Apollinaire Theatre Company’s ‘Touching the Void’ Reaches for the Moon

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Cast of Apollinaire Theatre Company’s ‘Touching the Void’

‘Touching the Void’  — Based on the book by Joe Simpson. Adapted by David Greig. Directed by Danielle Fauteux Jacques. Scenic and Sound Design by Joseph Lark-Riley; Lighting Design by Danielle Fauteux Jacques; Movement Choreography by Audrey Johnson. Presented by Apollinaire Theatre Company at Chelsea Theatre Works, 189 Winnisimmet St., Chelsea, through May 19.

By Shelley A. Sackett

Touching the Void is special on so many levels. Presented in the intimate Chelsea Theatre Works theater, director Danielle Fauteux Jacques has done a brilliant job of creating multiple settings (including the side of a mountain in the Peruvian Andes!) with minimal fuss and to maximum effect. The four actors (Patrick O’Konis as Joe, Kody Grassett as Simon, Zach Fuller as Richard, and Parker Jennings as Sarah) are equally stellar, and David Grieg’s script is meaty and engaging.

The real star of the play, and an unfortunate rarity these days, is the plot-driven narrative. It is based on climber Joe Simpson’s memoir of his near-death climbing experience, a thrilling and engaging story. There is even a surprise twist ending, which Jacques reveals in a deliciously sly and clever fashion after the curtain falls when the audience least expects it.

Even before the play officially starts, the mood is set. A blond, sullen woman, clad in a leather jacket and boots strolls onto the stage. Her mouth is down-turned. She holds an unlit cigarette, sits alone at a booth in a casual pub, gets up to put a song on the jukebox, and sits down again. She nods, looks at the table, and sighs.

Jennings is captivating; it’s not easy to stay in character in a vacuum. The effect, thanks also to Jacques’ spot-on lighting, is like a Hopper painting come to life.

We learn she is Sarah, Joe’s sister. Joe, we also learn, is presumed dead. She has just come from his body-less wake.

Enter Simon, who survived the climb, and Richard, the base camp manager. She insists on hearing the entire story of the climb, from its planning phase in this very “climbers’ pub” to the moment when Simon cut Joe loose, leaving him to perish in a crevasse.

Kody Grassett, Patrick O’Konis


She wants to understand what drew her brother to take such a risk. She has to experience the climb as he did to do that because she doesn’t believe he is really dead.

Simon and Richard agree to relive the journey with her, and their story, relayed through Sarah’s non-climber eyes, is an enormous one, packed with insight, triumph and peril. It’s also a golden opportunity for director Jacques and sound designer Joseph Lark-Riley to strut their stuff by turning the small stage from the pub to an Andean peak — complete with crunching snow and howling winds that whip the climbers like flags— and back to the pub again.

We witness all this in hindsight and by the end, we share Sarah’s doubt about whether Joe really perished. (No spoilers, but the answer awaits over snacks and drinks in the lobby).

Simon accommodates Sarah’s need to know how her brother lived, not just how he died. He shows her how to climb, painstakingly using chairs and tipped tables to improvise the feeling and rush of the climb. Only after she can relate on a visceral level does the storytelling begin.

Back in 1985, Simon and Joe were experienced Alps climbing buddies who wanted to be the first to climb the West Face of the Andean Siula Grande mountain. Alpine style, which means without extra gear or yuppie brand name accoutrements. “Two men, a rope and the abyss. It’s beautiful, but it’s dangerous,” Joe explains.

Parker Jennings, O’Konis


Accompanied to base camp by their site manager, the amusing and irritating navel-gazer, Richard, the two set off on their impossibly low-tech journey. They make it up, but on the descent, Joe shatters his leg and then disappears over a cliff. With rescue an impossibility and faced with freezing winds and certain death if he didn’t immediately begin his own descent, Simon makes a gut-wrenching decision. Act I ends with him cutting the rope that tethers him to his partner.

Act II opens with Joe, alive, incredulously realizing his situation. He is as devastated by his physical problems of having a shattered leg and being at the bottom of a snow abyss as he is psychologically by the reality that his partner cut him loose to save himself.

Suddenly, Sarah is by his side, coaxing him on, helping him inch his way out of this Dante’s frozen circle of hell. Is Joe hallucinating? Is Sarah imagining herself by her brother’s side? While the agony of Joe’s navigating his slow descent sometimes feels tedious and overdrawn, trust me — it will all make sense in the end.

Touching the Void is an abundance of theatrical pleasures, most notably the performances by the four actors. As Joe and Sarah, Jennings and O’Konis are simply perfect. Fuller imbues Richard with just the right balance of goofiness and competence, and Grassett brings an arm’s length sang froid to Simon that leaves us guessing whether there might not be a few nefarious skeletons in his closet.

Zach Fuller, Patrick O’Konis

If you enjoy theater that makes you think and inspires post-show conversation and debate, then this play is a must. Besides marveling at an inspiring production, you are guaranteed to leave wondering how this story could possibly be true.

For more information, visit apollinairetheatre.com

Rejoice! Alvin Ailey Is Back in Town!!!

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Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater at the Boch Center Wang Theatre
Photos by Paul Kolnik

By Shelley A. Sackett

There is always a special buzz in the air before the curtain rises on an Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater performance, but at Saturday’s matinee, the packed house was positively gaga with anticipation. They were not disappointed. For over two hours, the company thrilled its audience, leaving it enraptured and standing in a deafening ovation.

Presented by Celebrity Series of Boston at the queenly Boch Wang Theatre, five performances offered three programs: “Ailey Classics,” and two programs featuring new productions by other choreographers. All ended with the full production of Ailey’s signature work, Revelations.

“Ailey Classics,” Saturday afternoon’s three-act program, was a brilliant curation of excerpts from eight of Ailey’s jazzy pieces.

The first dance, Memoria, is elegant and delicate. Ailey composed it in 1979 as a tribute to his deceased colleague, Joyce Trisler, and there is an otherworldly translucent quality to his choreography. The curtain rises on a Tiffany blue background, a soloist in a flowing white dress flanked by two male companions in purple pants and billowing white shirts. Keith Jarrett’s abstract “Runes” (Charlie Haden’s bass is delicious) adds to the drama and flow as the ensemble encircles and wanders through the triangle of the three principal dancers. The ghostliness of the costumes, beauty of the movement, and entrancing emotiveness of the soloist leaves the audience tingling.

Movements II and III of Night Creature (1974) change the mood from ethereal to earthbound and earthy. Set to Duke Ellington’s snappy music, this piece featured Constance Stamatiou as a saucy, sexy flapper who sets the tone and commands our attention. Set in the night world of vintage jazz clubs, the piece is playful and steamy, a toe-tapping delight. A large ensemble struts, leaps and slinks through swing and jitterbug dance moves as they toy with each other and the audience. The star-burst finale is Ailey at his most brilliant.

After a brief intermission, a Pu Pu Platter of bite-sized Ailey excerpts maintains the crackle and pop. Pas De Duke (1976) showcases Ellington’s infectious melodies and a charismatic couple, she dressed in a black vest and tight pants, he in a Travolta-worthy white suit. They are synchronicity personified as they cavort in front of a backdrop of pop art bubbles reminiscent of a lava lamp.

The program continues with music that is conducive to narrative storytelling. Maskela Langage (1969; ‘Morolo’ by Hugh Maskela) is based on the music of the South African trumpeter Hugh Masekela. It is set in a bar—but the bar itself is in a kind of no men’s land. There is an element of sadness and despair in the way a hot mama dispassionately lures three men to dance with her. At the time he created the piece, Ailey apparently wanted to draw parallels between the era of South African apartheid and the race-induced violence of 1960s Chicago.

Love Songs (1972; ‘A Song for You’ by Leon Russell) offers an emotional journey through love and longing, set to a song recorded by Donny Hathaway. Side lit against a black screen, the solo dancer is lyrical and poignant.

With For ‘Bird’ — With Love- Excerpts 1 and 2 (1984), Ailey pays tribute to the great Charlie Parker, the now-legendary alto-saxophonist known familiarly as Bird and after whom the jazz club, Birdland, was named.

With a disco ball, a big crowd of exotic dancers clad in sparkling beaded costumes and feathered headdresses, and music by Coleridge-Taylor Perkinson, Ailey magnificently recreates the Harlem jazz scene. The dancers, like characters in a musical number from a vintage era film, seem to emulate Parker’s style, swinging and glamming with smooth ease.

Excerpt 2 is giddy pleasure, with costumes of red jumpsuits, tails and dancing stick, white suits and red dresses. It is color, joy, and the excitement of top-notch dancing.

When Alvin Ailey started in 1958, he envisioned a company dedicated to enriching the American modern dance heritage and preserving the uniqueness of the African American cultural experience. Since then, his troupe has continued for 66 years with only three artistic directors, the most recent (Robert Battle) since 2011. Of its 32-member ensemble, many have been with the company for more than ten years.

Stability and continuity are hallmarks of the Alvin Ailey company. So is ending its performances with Ailey’s 1960 masterpiece, Revelations.

Even before the second intermission was over, the audience was writhing in anticipation. Like concertgoers who want to hear their musical idols sing the hit song they know all the words to, these Alvin Ailey groupies were primed and ready. With the first notes of the hauntingly beautiful spiritual “I’ve Been ‘Buked,” they were clapping. By the time the curtain rose a few moments later, they were cheering loudly.

And for good reason.

Ailey’s classic is a wonderous tapestry of universal themes, emotion, symbolism and — of course — mind-bogglingly exquisite dancing. No matter how many times I have seen it, it never gets old and it never gets boring because I always notice something for the first time. Revelations somehow manages to combine the comfort of greeting an old friend with the delight of discovering something new about them.

Divided into three sections, the 36-minute piece was inspired by Ailey’s “blood memories” of growing up in rural Texas during the American Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s. “Pilgrim of Sorrow” is an appeal to God for relief from sorrow and destitution; “Take Me to the Water” represents baptism and the welcoming to the church as a full member; and “Move, Members. Move” depicts a traditional Southern Baptist church service.

Four pieces in particular resonated on this most recent viewing. “I’ve Been ‘Buked” opens as a mass of dancers fitted together into a fluid triangle that rises and falls, a pulsating, breathing organism. I never cease to be amazed by the “wow” factor of this use of space and bodies and by the grace and plasticity of the dancers’ arms.

“Fix Me Jesus” is a gorgeous duet that ends in a breathtaking arabesque. Three men race around the stage in “Run Sinner Man.” Their muscular moves against a backdrop of pink and red satanic flames heighten the feeling of frenzied entrapment. In “You May Run On,” those delightful fan-flicking congregational women are a swarm of bees, gossiping and forming fluid cliques. Like hens coming home to roost, they carry their milking stools and fans, plopping themselves down whenever and wherever they please. The effect is charming.

Notwithstanding the above, Revelations really is a piece that must be experienced live to be understood and appreciated. Reading (and writing) about it is simply no substitute. Its passion and power are palpable. The choreography, with its thrilling athletic leaps, cheery jubilance and tender pas de deux, is peerless. Its ten individual dances, from “I Been ‘Buked” to “Rocka My Soul in the Bosom of Abraham,” are stand-alone masterworks. Strung together as a story that is both timeless and timely, it is a magnum opus that must be witnessed live — again and again. Just ask anyone who was at the Saturday matinee.

Thanks to the Celebrity Series of Boston, Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater makes an annual visit to Boston. If you missed it this year, promise yourself you won’t make the same mistake in 2025.

Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater. Presented by Celebrity Series of Boston. At Boch Center Wang Theatre through May 5.

For more information, go to www.celebrityseries.org/

Judaism Shares the Spotlight in PEM’s Stunning “Ethiopia at the Crossroads” Exhibit

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Artist in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, Queen of Sheba and King Solomon conceiving King Mǝnǝlik I, 20th century. Tempera paint on cotton canvas. Gift of Charles R. and Elizabeth C. Langmuir, after 1973. Peabody Essex Museum./KATHY TARANTOLA/PEM

By Shelley A. Sackett

SALEM – “Ethiopia at the Crossroads,” the impressive new exhibit at the Peabody Essex Museum through July 7, celebrates the extraordinary artistic traditions of Ethiopia from their origins to the present day.

Co-organized by the Walters Art Museum and the Toledo Museum of Art, the sensory-rich show presents a collection of over 200 objects, ranging from antique painted religious icons, illuminated manuscripts, gospel books, coins, metalwork, and carvings to modern photographic, textile, and multimedia works by contemporary artists.

As the first major touring exhibition to examine Ethiopian art in a global context, its curators wisely added many roadmaps that describe and illuminate this often-overlooked African nation’s contribution to the world.

Artist in the Beta Israel community, Ethiopia Necklace, 20th century. Silver, metal, and string. Minneapolis Institute of Art, The Ethel Morrison Van Derlip Fund./SHELLEY A. SACKETT

Seated in the Horn of Africa between Europe and the Middle East, Ethiopia has played a profound foundational role in the evolution of the region’s history, creativity, and cross-cultural exchanges over two millennia. It has the distinction – despite upheavals – of maintaining its independence as one of the only African nations to resist colonization. Religious art, in particular, emphasizes the outsized role Ethiopia played in the establishment and evolution of the three major Abrahamic religions: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.

Most striking is the place Judaism played in this mix.

Prior to the arrival of Christianity, many people in Ethiopia practiced Judaism, perhaps linking back to the meeting of the Ethiopian Queen of Sheba and King Solomon of Israel in the 10th century B.C.E. Known as Beta Israel, the Jewish community in Ethiopia has persisted for over 2,000 years.

Most of the Beta Israel community immigrated to Israel in the 1980s and into the 1900s when political destabilization, famine, and religious persecution threatened the country. Operations Moses (1984), Sheba (1985), and Solomon (1991) airlifted over 80,000 Ethiopian Jews to Israel. Nonetheless, the union between Sheba and Solomon yielded a line of Ethiopian kings that lasted until its last emperor, Haile Selassie, was overthrown by a coup d’état in 1974.

In the 20th century, Jewish community members produced objects in diverse media that alluded to Ethiopia’s Jewish origins. Two large panels depict a graphic novel-type chronicle of the Queen of Sheba (known as the Ethopian Queen Makǝdda) and King Solomon conceiving King Mǝnilǝk I, the first ruler in a Solomonic line of Ethiopian kings.

These epic works (vibrant tempera paint on cotton canvas mounted on board) detail Mǝnilǝk’s journey as an adult to Israel in order to meet his father, King Solomon. His envoy returned to Israel two years later, with the Ark of Covenant, a sacred relic containing two stone tablets inscribed with the Ten Commandments. That ark is said to be located in Ethiopia today, at a church in Aksum. Nearby is a silver necklace crafted by a Beta Israel artist.

Aïda Muluneh, “Addis Neger,” from the Mirror of the Soul series, 2019. Inkjet print. Museum purchase by exchange. Peabody Essex Museum. Courtesy of the artist. ©AïdaMuluneh.

A stunning pillow sham, created by Yederesal Abuhay, depicts two rabbis and their students in front of a synagogue. In the 1990s through the 2010s, the North American Conference on Ethiopian Jewry created a work program for Ethiopian Jews living in Addis Ababa. With the support of this program, Jewish Ethiopian artists created basketry and textile objects, like this pillow sham that also can double as a Shabbat challah cover.

PEM is known for its groundbreaking approach to exhibits, and “Ethiopia at the Crossroads” is no exception. An introductory video provides a panorama of the country’s majestic geography and local inhabitants, including a Jewish man wearing tefillin, kippah, and praying outdoors. A trio of scratch-and-sniff cards invites the visitor to inhale the scents of berbere, frankincense, and Ge’ez manuscripts representing the history and literature of the Ethiopian Orthodox Church. Audio-visual displays highlight Ethiopia’s unique sights and sounds and showcase members of the local Ethiopian diaspora community, which includes an estimated 12,000 people in the Greater Boston area alone.

Most striking are the contemporary artworks. Multidisciplinary mixed media collages by Helina Metaferia feature women adorned in elaborate headdresses with messages of resistance and change. Six exciting photographs by Aïda Muluneh combine thought-provoking observations on multigenerational traditions and transitions among Ethopia’s women with a keen sense of design, color, and technical acumen. The first African woman to serve as a commissioned artist for the Nobel Peace Prize, Muluneh’s work questions assumptions about spirituality, mortality, divisions, and community. She draws inspiration from folklore, religious icons, and memories of her grandmother.

“These photographs express what it is to be an African woman by encapsulating gender and identity as a celebration of contemporary self-expression. As the first contemporary Ethiopian artist to have her work acquired for PEM’s collection, Muluneh raises awareness of the impact of photography in shaping cultural perceptions,” said Karen Kramer, PEM’s Stuart and Elizabeth F. Pratt curator of Native American and oceanic art and culture. Θ

For more information and tickets, visit pem.org.

North Shore JCC’s annual film fest to bring panorama of Jewish life

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The JCCNS’s 11th annual film festival runs from May 2-23.

By Shelley A. Sackett

MARBLEHEAD – Film fans of the North Shore and neighboring communities will be brought together once again by the International Jewish Film Festival and its carefully curated selection from around the world. Uniquely inspired by Jewish history, culture, and values, all films will be screened at Cinema Salem.

Sponsored by Sharon and Howard Rich and Leslie and Bob Ogan, the 11th annual festival runs from May 2-23. Opening night tickets are $20 (includes popcorn and a drink) and closing night is $25 (includes an ice cream reception). All other screenings are $15 with discounted ticket packages available.

Cochairs Izzi Abrams and Michelle Myerson and 14 committee members worked tirelessly to create a well-balanced lineup of 10 feature films. The lineup includes documentaries, a comedy, a political thriller, and several dramas set during the Holocaust. This year, there is also an evening of six short films.

Four documentaries offer unique glimpses of Jews and Jewish life. “Remembering Gene Wilder” pays affectionate homage to the extraordinary actor and his legacy both on screen and off. Director and cowriter Glenn Kirschbaum will introduce the film and facilitate a Q&A after the screening. The film is scheduled for May 2 at 7 p.m.

A humorous and nostalgic tribute to what became known as the Borscht Belt, “The Catskills” features interviews with former waiters, entertainers, and dance instructors, and the best shtick its renowned stand-up comedians can still offer. The film provides an historical overview of early 20th century Jewish immigration to New York and the development of this lavish vacation destination. (May 10, 1 p.m.)

“Children of Peace” follows the personal stories of a group of dreamers who embarked on a utopian experiment in the 1970s, giving birth to Neve Shalom – a village envisioned as a model of harmonious coexistence between Arabs and Jews. This film delves into the experiences of the children who came of age in this extraordinary setting, and how they now – as adults – grapple with the harsh realities of political turmoil, war, and societal segregation. (May 15, 7 p.m.)

Rounding out the doc category is “Call Me Dancer,” the story of Manish, a young Mumbai street performer who – despite the family and financial odds stacked against him – achieves his dream of becoming a professional dancer with the help of Yehuda Maor, an Israeli ballet teacher who takes him under his wing. (May 23, 7 p.m.)

Three films set during the Holocaust focus on personal stories of both Jews and non-Jews. The sublimely shot and scored “Zone of Interest,” winner of the 2024 Academy Awards for Best International Feature Film and Best Sound, is loosely based on the 2014 novel by Martin Amis. It follows the banal and privileged existence of Auschwitz commander Rudolf Höss and his wife Hedwig as they build an idyllic life for their family in the 1940s only yards away from the prison camp and crematoria where atrocities are heard but never seen. (May 5, 7 p.m.)

Based on the Cinderella folktale, “Stella. A Life.” is the story of a German-Jewish refugee who flees to Scotland in 1937 and, incognito, finds work at the country estate of a fascist noble, where she is accepted and even falls in love. Desperate to find her parents, Stella struggles with relationships, home, and identity. (May 17, 1 p.m.)

On a similar note, “Love Gets a Room,” inspired by true events during the 1942 Nazi occupation of Poland, is the romantic story of a Jewish stage actress who must decide between staying with her lover and escaping the Warsaw ghetto. (May 22, 7 p.m.)

On May 8 at 7 p.m., the festival switches gears with “A Night of Shorts,” a showcase of six exciting and thought-provoking short films from across the world, including the 2024 Academy Award nominated, “Letter to a Pig.”

The political thriller, “Shoshana,” is inspired by real events. Set in 1930s Tel Aviv – then a new European Jewish city being built on the shores of the Mediterranean – romance, espionage, and violence converge to create a suspenseful and personal time capsule of that dramatic time in Israel’s history. (May 19, 1 p.m.)

Finally, on lighter notes, two comedies complete the menu. “Yaniv” is a madcap and absurd tale that unpacks Jewish identity, male friendship, and public education – all in one lighthearted package. After funding is cut for the school musical, a high school teacher in the Bronx resolves to earn it back by recruiting a fellow statistics teacher (who is secretly a card counter and recovering gambling addict) to cheat at an underground card game run by the Hasidic Jewish community. Special guests Amnon Carmi (producer, director, and cowriter) and Benjamin Ducoff (producer, lead actor, and cowriter) will be joining live to introduce the film. (May 4, 1 p.m.)

“No Name Restaurant” chronicles a whimsical road trip. When ultra-Orthodox Ben, from Brooklyn, sets out to rescue Alexandria, Egypt’s dwindling Jewish community, he finds himself marooned in the Sinai Desert. His last glimmer of hope rests with Adel, a gruff Bedouin in search of his lost camel. At first, they clash over cultural misunderstandings, until Adel’s broken-down truck unites them in a fight for survival. (May 14, 1 p.m.) Θ

For more information and to buy tickets, visit jccns.org.

‘The Dybbuk’ showcases how throughout history, Jews have lived ‘Between Two Worlds’

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By Shelley A. Sackett

‘The Dybbuk’ has been adapted from a 1914 play by Igor Golyak, founder and artistic director of Arlekin Players Theatre.

Igor Golyak, founder and artistic director of Arlekin Players Theatre, was an 8-year-old growing up in Kyiv – then part of the Soviet Union – when his family gave him news that would change the trajectory of his life.

They told him that he was Jewish.

Because the practice of Judaism was suppressed by the state, Golyak had never even heard of Jews. His family moved to Boston in 1990 when he was 11 and – other than returning to Moscow to study theater after graduating from high school – he has called the area home since.

In 2009, he founded Arlekin Players, a Needham-based company of mostly Jewish immigrants from the former USSR. It has risen to national and international acclaim, especially since the pandemic and the launch of its ground-breaking Virtual Theater Lab in 2020. The New York Times recently cited Golyak as “among the most inventive directors working in the United States.”

Although Golyak has said he never thought he would be a “Jewish theater director,” the company has increasingly presented works that underscore themes of immigration, antisemitism, displacement, and Jewish cultural and religious identity.

“It’s what’s happening in our world and in my community. I’m Jewish. These are things that I’m trying to understand. These ideas and questions have captured my attention, my imagination and, at least right now, is what’s compelling to me,” he told the Journal by email.

Right after the Oct. 7 Hamas attack, Arlekin Players launched its Jewish Plays Initiative with the goal of shedding light on voices and stories that aren’t being heard; on pain points that are misunderstood; on ideas that are silenced; and on the “beautiful culture of a people that needs to be shared and celebrated.”

“The Dybbuk,” its latest project, was adapted by Golyak and Rachel Merrill Moss and will celebrate its U.S. premiere in partnership with the Vilna Shul, Boston’s Center for Jewish Culture, from May 30 through June 23.

Steeped in Jewish tradition, folklore, and mysticism, “The Dybbuk” – also known as “Between Two Worlds” – is one of the most widely produced plays in the history of Jewish theater. It was written in 1914 by the Russian S. Ansky and is based on the mystical concept from Hassidic Jewish folklore of the dybbuk, a disembodied human spirit that wanders restlessly until it finds a haven in the body of a living person.

In Ansky’s work, a young girl’s father refuses to let her marry her lover, betrothing her to another more worthy suitor. The rejected suitor dies of heartbreak, and his spirit enters the body of his beloved. The two eventually reunite supernaturally.

It is the account of two suspended souls trapped between two worlds, tethered to each other yet also displaced. To Golyak, the tale of these disoriented young people is particularly pertinent.

“Isn’t this where we live? As Jews, as immigrants? It’s where we so often have lived as Jewish people for centuries: between worlds. It’s our story – ancient and mystical, the story of our ancestors, but also our story of living in America today,” he said.

While researching “The Dybbuk,” Golyak learned that its original production in Poland was performed by the Vilna Troupe. When he visited the Vilna Shul in Boston for the first time last fall, he was struck by its history, architectural details, and layers of paint, murals, and Judaica. He could feel the company of several generations, from those Eastern European immigrants who built the shul at the turn of the last century to those who use the space today.

As the only surviving landmark of Boston’s immigrant Jewish past, he knew it would be the perfect space to share “The Dybbuk.”

Elyse Winick, director of arts and culture at the Vilna, hopes the audience will gain a deeper sense of the 1919 shul that is both a performance venue and a living museum. “This is a rare opportunity to synthesize those two aspects of our identity, deepening both the power of seeing the play and the significance of this extraordinary piece of Boston’s Jewish history,” she said by email.

“For us, it is as if the souls of the Polish Vilna Troupe have taken refuge in the Vilna Shul and then come forward to share this tale,” Golyak added.

Golyak’s professional and personal lives overlap, his Jewish identity informing both. In an October 2023 article for WBUR, he wrote in support of Israel and expressed shock at the silence from others in the theater world. “I don’t know if I am an American, or a Ukrainian, or if I am somehow an Israeli, but I know that I am a Jew,” he wrote. “The more we are hated, the more I feel I am a Jew.”

He believes the theater is important as a place where people can experience others’ truths and wrestle with that exposure. “With war, brokenness, displacement, and a rise in antisemitism happening around us, I want to do plays that help us see each other and untangle how we do what we do as human beings,” he said.

In a world where unexplainable hatred exists, he is concerned about his children and the future they may face. “They should be proud of their identity. They are part of a people who feel deeply, think wisely, laugh abundantly, innovate and invent, and will always gather and share food, music and stories,” he said. “They belong wherever they are. And no matter what, they can survive and thrive.” Θ

For more information and to purchase tickets, visit arlekinplayers.com.

The Wheels Go ‘Round and ‘Round and ‘Round in SpeakEasy Stage/Front Porch’s ‘A Strange Loop.’

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Kai Clifton (center) and the company of A STRANGE LOOP at Speakeasy Stage. From left: De’Lon Grant, Davron S. Monroe, Jonathan Melo, Aaron Michael Ray (background), Grant Evan, and Zion Middleton (kneeling). photos by Maggie Hall Photography.

By Shelley A. Sackett

Playwright Michael R. Jackson, a heavy-set Black queer man, has brought the concept of sharing to a new level in his Pulitzer Prize and Tony Award-winning musical, “A Strange Loop.” The compulsively introspective show, which runs at 100 intermission-less minutes, spelunks into the deepest crevices of the anguished mind of its hero, Usher, a fat, Black, queer man writing a musical called “A Strange Loop” about a fat, Black queer man who’s writing a musical about a fat Black queer man.

It’s a crawl through a wormhole rigged with armed psychological and emotional IEDs, self-loathing, and regrets. It’s also a raucous and playful musical, full of humor, harmony, colorful characters, and even more colorful (potty) language.

The play opens on Jon Savage’s effective, slick set of eight cubes lit in Broadway blue neon. (The only guidance Jackson’s script offers is to describe the setting as “A loop within a loop within a loop inside a perception of one man’s reality.”) Characters meant to represent Usher’s thoughts stand inside each cube. They dance. They sing. The effect is a cross between “Shindig” and “Hollywood Squares.”

We meet Usher (Kai Clifton) as the Thoughts dress him in his professional usher’s uniform. Usher works to make money in a theater where “The Lion King” reigns while he tries to write his play, a “big, Black, queer-ass, American Broadway show.” As he externally prepares to deal with the patrons who will soon flood the theater’s aisles, his mind is busy writing his play. He eagerly shares this work-in-progress with the audience.

““A Strange Loop” will have black shit! All thoughts. And white shit! It’ll give you uptown and downtown! With truth-telling and butt-fucking! There will be butt-fucking!” he belts out with gleeful forewarning.

It’s as if Jackson and Usher want to tip off their audience, “This ain’t no Disney musical, and make no mistake, we aim to deliver,” which they do, especially on the last item.

Usher leads a complicated inner life. His mind is a six-lane highway where Thoughts criticize, intimidate, denigrate, and insult his every move. Every time he resolves to dig himself out of his miserable routine, his thoughts disrupt and derail his plans.

The supporting cast of Thoughts #1-6, donning eye-catching costumes (Becca Jewett), are a vicious gang representing Usher’s agent (Fairweather), his inner cynic (Your Daily Self Loathing) and a host of other unhelpful characters, most notably Mom and Dad.

Through these inner/outer conversations between Usher and himself, Usher reveals his quest to peel back the layers of labels (Black, queer, etc.) and discover who he really is. We learn about all the issues he struggles with, including family pressures to ditch his sexual and professional preferences and embrace the Lord and style of Tyler Perry’s gospel melodramas; trying to figure out what it means to be a Black playwright writing a Black play; and struggling with what today’s world requires if one is to be “Black enough” and “gay enough.”

He also is coping with the bull’s eye homophobia, fatphobia, racism, and a white theater industry painted on his back.

All this should (and does) sound heartbreaking and overbearing. Yet, Jackson manages to pull off a musical that infuses humor and sincerity into a story replete with sadness, desolation, and rejection.

Through seventeen songs, Jackson’s lyrics tell a multilayered story of Usher’s angst-ridden life.

He longs for the unhampered freedom white girls have, yet also feels obligated to fulfill Black boy stereotypes (“Inner White Girl”). His doctor tells him he’s not gay enough because he’s only having sex once a year, but when Usher starts using dating apps, the result is predictably humiliating. He meets an engaging, flirtatious stranger only to discover he is a figment of his imagination.

The list of disappointments and rejections grows longer. His mother calls him on his birthday to remind him homosexuality is a sin, and his father asks if he’s contracted AIDS yet.

The best scenes, dramatically and musically, are those that have anything to do with Gospel music. When Usher’s agent tells him Tyler Perry is looking for a ghostwriter for his next gospel play, Usher turns up his nose in disgust. His Thoughts accuse him of being a “race traitor,” and in a hilarious scene, historical Black figures persuade him to take the job (“Tyler Perry Writes Real Life”). The full replication of a Tyler Perry set and lyrics that skewer Usher’s parents and parody Tyler (“Precious Little Dream/AIDS Is God’s Punishment”) are a welcome break. The actors’ voices (especially Clifton’s) awaken and strut their range and vibrancy. The lyrics are edgy and funny, the tune snappy and toe-tapping.

With the exception of distracting and annoying technical problems with the sound mixing (the actors’ voices were frequently not mic’d) and muffled lyrics, the production is effective, from Maurice Emmanuel Parent’s thoughtful direction to David Freeman Coleman’s music direction and conducting. The six Thoughts shine individually and blend seamlessly as an ensemble.

But it is Clifton as Usher who literally carries the weight of the show, and he is more than up to the task. Despite the temptation to wash our hands in frustration with this character who can’t seem to get out of his own way, his unfortunate circumstances notwithstanding), Clifton brings an underlying earnestness and likeability that make it impossible to abandon him. Plus, Clifton lets loose a powerful set of pipes during certain numbers (notably the gospel songs).

It’s hard to understand Jackson’s real purpose in writing “A Strange Loop.” It takes its title from a Liz Pfair song and from Douglas Hofstadter’s scientific concept that when a person only moves up or down, they’ll end up where they started. In other words, no matter how far or fast they think they’re going, they are essentially marching in place.

Jackson, now 43, said that although his play is not formally autobiographical, he began writing it as a monologue in his early 20s when he was experiencing himself as “nothing more than a mass of undesirable fat, Black gay molecules floating in space without purpose.”

He wrote Usher as a 26-year-old under unimaginable pressure. He is full of self-doubt and self-loathing, yet compulsively writes about himself in the belief it will magically change him. The more he plumbs his inner self, the more guilt and shame he dredges up. If writing “A Strange Loop” was meant to be Usher’s psychological catharsis, it misses its mark.

After all, Usher’s closing words are:

“Someone whose self-perception is based upon a lie,

Someone whose only problem is with the pronoun “I.”

Maybe I don’t need changing

Maybe I should regroup

’Cause change is just an illusion.

If thoughts are just an illusion, then what a strange, strange loop.”

And maybe that is Jackson’s point, after all. Inside his endless, strange loop of destructive thoughts and desperate hope that he can change who he is, Usher is his own worst enemy. Not only does he see himself as a failure, he assumes that everyone sees him as he sees himself.

His illusions are negative delusions.

It takes someone outside the loop—an impartial audience, for example—to appreciate that underneath this angsty, meek gay Black man beats the heart of a brave, creative person full of caustic wit and laser-sharp insight. We can only hope that Usher and all those suffering as he does can jump off the treadmill of self-doubt and fear, take a deep cleansing breath, and learn to love and accept themselves.

‘A Strange Loop’ — Book, Music and Lyrics by Michael R. Jackson. Directed by Maurice Emmanuel Parent. Music Direction by David Freeman Coleman. Choreographed by Taavon Gamble. Co-produced by SpeakEasy Stage and Front Porch Arts Collective at the Calderwood Pavilion, 527 Tremont Street, through May 25.

For more information and tickets, visit https://speakeasystage.com/

Arts Emerson’s ‘Book of Mountains and Seas’ Brings Chinese Creation Myths to Life

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“Book of Mountains and Seas” at ArtsEmerson

By Shelley A. Sackett

“Book of Mountains and Seas” is an artistically adventurous new work by award-winning composer Ruo Huang and MacArthur Fellow puppeteer/artist Basil Twist. Their collaboration is an inventive twist on ancient Chinese myths about creation and destruction that, in this perilous era of climate change, are especially relevant 2,500 years later.

The Chinese government released a series of stamps commemorating Chinese mythology, including the “Book of Mountain and Seas” stories, in the 1980s. Huang saw those stamps and never forgot the images. Four of them are the backbone of his production.

The vocal theater for 12 singers, two percussionists, and puppeteers is an abstract embroidery of sound, movement, and light. A troupe of puppets (handled by superb puppeteers) and the Ars Nova Copenhagen chorus turn Huang and Twist’s ingenuity into an unforgettable theatrical experience.

The performance is sung half in Mandarin and half in a language of the composer-conductor-librettist Huang’s invention, without English supertitles. Projected Chinese titles give the full text of the stories, but the English text is much briefer and its fade in much slower.

The 75-minute intermission-less oeuvre tells four timeless and abstract tales. The first myth, “The Legend of Pan Gu,” describes the creation of the planet. The program notes inform us that Earth is birthed from a cosmic egg that contains the hairy giant Pan Gu, who dies after 18,000 years of holding Earth and the sky apart. From his body spring the Sun, moon, mountains, rivers, animals, weather, and, finally, humans.

The show’s opening sets a spiritual tone, with a twelve-member choir with softly lit faces chanting an atonal primordial soup of notes that sound like church vespers. While there is little puppetry, the scene is set for the emergence of Kua Fu, whose face will be constructed from the pieces of bone-like driftwood scattered about the stage in the show’s final piece.

The ethereal, amorphous, and dissonant music matches the repetitive, slow movements on the background screen and on stage. Those who let go of expectations of linear storylines and dramatic action might enjoy entering a meditative state that is inspiring and nurturing. Others may find the experience boring and pretentious.

The second myth, “The Spirit Bird,” is about a princess who drowns at sea. Her spirit takes the form of a bird that spends the rest of eternity trying to take vengeance on the sea, filling it with pebbles and twigs.

The scene’s use of mottled lighting and undulating white silk for the sea and bird is simple and effective. Unfortunately, the scene is too long, and without the addition of any other imagery (other than a serpent who briefly swims by), the initial visual delight dwindles to the ho-hum.

In the third and fourth scenes, puppetry and drama replace repetition with excitement. “The Ten Suns” tells the tale of the ten Suns, children of heavenly gods. The ten siblings romp and play while taking turns lighting the Earth. When they decide to break this routine, and all go out together, their combined power dries up the Earth and wreaks climactic havoc. Only the intervention of the God of archery, who shoots and kills nine Suns, averts existential disaster. The lone remaining Sun, fearing his own demise, remains faithful to his duty, creating night and day.

With this tale, the show comes to life. Ten charming, anthropomorphic red rice-paper lanterns on slender stalks cavort their way across the sky. The music takes on a more harmonious quality, reminiscent more of early medieval music than a drone. As the Suns meet their fate one by one, sacrificed to save the Earth, the music marks the moment with a soulful but melodious elegy.

Finally, when the Sun-chasing giant Kua Fu appears in the fourth myth, even the most contemplative or somnambulant audience member will awaken and be utterly engrossed. “Kua Fu Chasing the Sun” is the story of a giant who sets out to chase and capture the Sun. Sadly, his quest ends in his dying from heat and exhaustion.

With the assemblage and appearance of the enormous puppet Kua Fu, it becomes apparent why there is a buzz about this show. Under the six puppeteers’ expert hands, the gnarly driftwood scattered across the stage comes to life with thrilling suddenness. Kua Fu’s head bobs, and his neck cranes. He acts and reacts. He runs and reaches. That this puppet exudes so much emotion while remaining abstract and clearly manipulated by humans is a testament to all involved in this show and worth the price of admission.

Lacking definable facial features, he can assume the persona of the gentlest giant or the meanest monster. Each audience member can call it as they see it, which is refreshing and fun.

Alas, the creature’s chase after the sun leads to his no less dramatic demise. White silk cloth again doubles as the sea as Kua Fu crouches on hands and knees and drains it in an attempt to quench his unquenchable thirst. He is dissembled with the same grace and charm with which he was created, his parts scattered once again across the stage.

When he dies, his walking stick falls to the ground, transforming it into a grove of peach blossom trees. Like spinning origami fairies, delicate confetti falls from the sky as the background shifts to a soft orange glow. It is a beautiful moment and an uplifting ending.

The one caveat before seeing this show is that unless you are a totally go-with-the-flow om shanti kind of person, a little context will go a long way. There are some shows where reading the program notes or reviews before experiencing the performance is a mistake. ‘Book of Mountains and Seas’ is not one of them.

Rather than interfering with the joy of forming an opinion based on visceral, in-the-moment reactions, even a brief intro will shed welcome light and might make the evening more enjoyable. Trying to read the too-light and too-briefly-displayed English script was annoying and distracting. An unsolicited suggestion to the team behind future productions: make the program notes available on the venue’s website.

“Book of Mountains and Seas” — Composer and Librettist –Ruo Huang. Director and Production Designer – Basil Twist. Presented by Arts Emerson at the Emerson Paramount Center, 559 Washington St., Boston, through April 21.

Hub Theatre Company Revives Lanford Wilson’s ‘Burn This’

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Kiki Samko, Victor Shopov in Hub Theater’s ‘Burn This’

By Shelley A. Sackett

Since Burn This arrived on Broadway in 1987, critics have lamented the same thing – at its core, the play itself is not great. Despite luminary-filled casts (including John Malkovich, Adam Driver, and Edward Norton), the play never garnered the kind of accolades awarded to Wilson’s other works, such as Talley’s Folly (Pulitzer Prize), Hot L Baltimore (Obie), and Fifth of July.

Unfortunately, despite very good direction and standout performances, the underlying over-150-minute play (one intermission) remains at the core of the problem with Hub Theatre Company’s new production.

This is not to say it isn’t worth seeing. Wilson is renowned as a playwright of unparalleled sensitivity, wisdom, and craftsmanship, and his signature style shines through. Just be prepared for a long evening with many pregnant pauses.

The premise is similar to many of Wilson’s other works that deal with family, homosexuality, estrangement, and friendship. The play begins in a Manhattan loft apartment shortly after the funeral of Robbie, a young, gay dancer who drowned in a boating accident with his lover Dom. Robbie’s roommates, his sensitive dance partner and choreographer Anna (played by a standout Kiki Samko) and wisecracking, gay advertising executive Larry (a wonderfully comedic and compassionate Steve Auger) are debriefing after attending the funeral in Robbie’s working-class hometown.

Both are disoriented by how little they knew about their friend, whom they clearly adored and miss. They are even more dismayed by how little his family knew about Robbie. “They never even saw him dance,” Anna repeatedly chants. The early, easy banter between these two is among the most enjoyable moments of the play. Their rapport, sharp irony, and honesty shape fast-paced and engaging dialogue. It’s as if we in the audience are flies on the wall of a very exclusive club.

Soon, rich boy and science-fiction screenwriter Burton, Anna’s longtime lover (Tim Hoover), arrives, and the conversation swings from Robbie to creating extraordinary works of art and “reaching beyond the sun.” The play’s title, in fact, comes from something he says about art: ”Make it personal, tell the truth and then write ‘Burn this’ on the bottom,” he says.

Burton, we learn, has proposed many times to Anna, who is happy to live in the netherworld between dating and commitment. Given the sparkles Anna emanates and Burton’s opacity, it’s hard to blame her. (It doesn’t help that there seems to be zero chemistry between Samko and Hoover).

All three characters claim to feel deeply, but their emotions smolder beneath a thick veneer of isolation, self-sufficiency, and snarky repartees.

With the second scene and the eruptive arrival of Pale, Robbie’s cocaine-snorting, hyperactive restaurant manager brother (a volatile and charismatic Victor L. Shopov), the atmosphere in the apartment quickly changes from defensive introspection to offensive self-preservation. Pale bears the match that will ignite the others and is on a mission to burn down the house.

He has shown up in the middle of the night, unannounced, to retrieve his brother’s things. He is high as a kite, with an air of danger and bad-boy sex appeal. He wields a pistol but worries about a crease in his Armani-style suit. He is Stanley Kowalski on steroids, and Anna, for all the dispassion she exhibits with Burton, responds like a ripe-for-the-picking Stella.

Pale, too, is grieving for his brother and himself. Caught between anger and guilt, he is a whirling dervish of uncontrolled and uncontrollable emotion and physicality. His primal scream unleashes a motherlode of emotion. Anna tells him that he scares her, but it’s clear he also thrills her. He has aroused something long deferred.

These four spend the rest of the play sorting out their relationships with themselves and each other while dealing with the fact that they didn’t really know the Robbie they all so desperately loved. What does that say about who they are? Who they aren’t? Does anyone ever really know another or really let another know them?

Larry is both the least and most stable, relying on the protection of his sense of humor but willing to open up when he feels safe. (The scene between him and Burton is one of the play’s most touching and intimate).

Anna and Pale are the most interesting dyad, circling each other and then zooming in and out of contact. They have awakened something deep and important in each other, something neither has ever felt before. Pale may be reckless, but he is no fool when it comes to love. He recognizes the gift he has been given and is willing to take a chance.

Anna may talk the independent talk, but when it comes to walking the walk, she retreats under the blanket. She goes so far as to acknowledge her feelings for Pale in her choreography but is unwilling to act on them. Sending him away preserves her bubble while nurturing a deep longing and regret that fuels her isolation and artistic career.

While the pacing could be nudged a bit, the production is true to the play, and the actors do a fine job. Samko is terrific as Anna. She embodies the character with a naturalness that belies her acting. Likewise, Auger does the best he can with Larry, who is written as such a stereotype as to become, from time to time, a two-dimensional stand-up comedic caricature. Auger brings a warmth and vulnerability that adds that third dimension.

Shopov is the magnetic center of the play’s motor. He personifies life lived large and is as unpolished and raw as the others are urbane and glib. Although he demands attention in every scene he’s in, Shopov isn’t showboating; he’s just playing Pale as Pale would play Pale.

Yet, he is most effective when he switches from tough guy Hyde to reveal his inner, softer Jekyll. Shopov changes more than his voice and gestures; his entire persona shifts from a nose-thumping, dangerous, tough guy to a sensitive little boy who craves approval and affection.

As in his other works, Wilson offers sociopolitical observation and commentary, which at times feel dated and like unnecessary padding in an already too-long work. Likewise, the repeated back-and-forth between Pale and Anna dilutes the gravitas of their coupling while also adding unneeded minutes.

Nonetheless, and despite its length, Burn This is worth seeing both for its excellent cast and intriguing ideas. Wilson was indeed a maestro of plumbing such subjects as disconnectedness, the purpose of life, and the pyrotechnics of relationships, and his audiences will always leave with their perspectives just a little broadened.

“Burn This” — Written by Lanford Wilson. Directed by Daniel Bourque. Presented by Hub Theatre Company of Boston at the BCA Plaza Black Box Theatre, 539 Tremont St., through April 21.

For more information and tickets, go to: http://www.hubtheatreboston.org/

The Israeli Dance Company Vertigo Hit It Out of the Park with ‘MAKOM.’

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MAKOM – Vertigo Dance Company. Choreographed by Noa Wertheim and Rina Wertheim-Koren. Music by Ran Bagno; Lighting Design by Dani Fishof-Magenta; Costume Design by Sasson Kedem; Stage Design by Zohar Shoef. Presented by Celebrity Series of Boston at the Boch Center Shubert Theatre. Run has ended.

By Shelley A. Sackett

Renown Jerusalem-based contemporary dance company Vertigo does much more than its modest claim of “exploring the creative process.” Artistic Director and Co-Founder Noa Wertheim’s newest work, MAKOM (Hebrew for “place”), breaks new ground with its exciting blend of storyline, emotion, sound, and movement. The result is an evening-length journey that takes us to a deep place within and without ourselves, where language is more than words and meaning is more than content.

If that description sounds a little trippy, it’s because Wertheim and her spectacular troupe of nine dancers defy pigeonholing and quotidian dance performance vernacular. Wertheim listens to the movement of her body, watches her dancers improvise, and builds the choreographic narrative from that core out. Her overlying concept evolves from the movement, bottom-up rather than top-down.

She is keenly observant and deeply introspective, committed to earthly and spiritual elements, and the rich work she creates is nothing short of magic. Only after she has finished the choreography does she invite composer Ran Bagno to create musical accompaniment. The synchronicity of sound and movement that results is exceptional.

MAKOM can mean a real or imaginary place, and to Wertheim, it is a spiritual refuge, a home away from the fray of polarities and conflict where inner equilibrium opens the door to unity and collaboration. Connection, awareness, paying attention and the freedom to reject order are the main ingredients. Mysticism and meditation add intoxicating spice.

In MAKOM, wooden sticks are the only props. The backdrop is black matte and the dancers are clad in sack-like costumes of muted earth tones. Throughout the piece, they come together and then drift apart, undulating like water one moment and exploding like crackling flames the next.

There is joy, whimsey, and extraordinary talent in the choreography and its execution.

Thanks to spot-on lighting and sound, the dancers are the focus. Wertheim uses their bodies (especially the intertwining and draping of arms and hands) to create organic wholes out of many parts. Hers is a true company. While there are standout individuals (Sian Olles is impossible to look away from, even when hidden in the back, which — thankfully — she rarely is), there is no showboating or acrobatic theatricality. These nine dancers seem to share a single heartbeat.

Duets, in particular, focus on the push-pull fluidity of relationships as partners drift in and out of solos and various dyads. Dancers caress each other with tenderness one moment, then leap apart and drag one another across the floor.

Olles and Tommaso Zuchegna are particularly enthralling in a gorgeous pas de deux that is both simple and dramatic. Olles is like quicksilver, and she uses every molecule of her impossibly lithesome body to mesmerize and enchant. When she and Zuchegna interweave their arms and move in and out of the spotlight, the luminosity of their limbs creates a magical forest where humans and nature truly are one.

Towards the end, the captivating Olles sheds her outer garment and dances in a thin, delicate white slip. In a dramatic turn, other dancers collaborate to assemble a makeshift ladder out of the prop poles, which Olles balances atop and hinges over. The effect is simultaneously of calm and turmoil, togetherness and individuality, strength and weakness.

When the dancers dismantle the ladder, they construct the beginning of what becomes a bridge. Tentatively, some hold hands. Some explore the bridge, crawling up from opposite ends to meet in the middle and form a single, symbiotic unit. Some practice coupling, parting, and recoupling.

Finally, in a burst of hope, joy, and community, all nine join hands and dance together, encircling the bridge that will allow them to return to their makom, that place of balance and peace.

Wertheim has spoken eloquently about the need for humans to strive for the unity and wholeness that speaks to the fundamentals of the human condition. With MAKOM, through movement rather than words, she has shown us one path that can lead us to that place that brings us closer to ourselves by bringing us closer to ourselves.

‘Message In A Bottle’ is a Sublime Synchronicity of Song, Dance and Story

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‘Message In A Bottle’ at Emerson Colonial Theatre

By Shelley A. Sackett

The only negative comment that anyone could possibly utter about the earth-shattering Message In A Bottle is that it is an unforgivable shame that its Boston run is a mere five days (seven performances). My suggestion is to interrupt reading this review, trust the reviewer, and jump on your computer to secure tickets while there might still be some left.

Yes, it really is that good.

Since Sting burst onto the music scene with The Police four decades ago, his eclectic styles, keen sense of lyrical storytelling, and hypnotic voice have earned him 17 Grammys, 25 American Music Awards, and 2 MTV Music Awards. He is known for his sociopolitical critiques as much as for his virtuoso musicianship.

Thanks to the virtuosity of British Oliver Award nominee Kate Prince (whose renowned narrative choreography includes West End theatrical hits Some Like it Hip Hop, Into the Hoods, and Everybody’s Talking About Jamie), 28 of Sting’s iconic songs have been transformed into the score for Message In A Bottle, Prince’s phenomenal newest production, which she created, choreographed, and directed.

Master of hip hop, break dance, modern, swing, ballet, and street styles, Prince brings 23 members of her prodigious ZooNation dance company to daze and amaze their Boston audience with their flexibility, acrobatic prowess, and sheer stamina. At times, they seem to float in defiance of gravity, pure gossamer, and magic.

Prince’s storyline focuses on civil wars and the global migrant crisis they have spawned. Through the experiences of one innocent family (father, mother, and three teenage children) who become refugee collateral damage, she shows the wrenching toll exacted on these victims.

She uses Sting’s lyrics, the dancers’ prodigious acting skills, and first-class lighting (Natasha Chivers), set design (Ben Stones), costumes (Anna Fleischle), and video (Andrej Goulding) to narrate this emotional, full-length tale.

Even before the curtain rises, Message In A Bottle makes it clear that this is not simply a dance concert. Creative sparks are everywhere, starting with the opening song (“Desert Rose,” which inspired Prince to create the production) set against giant shadow silhouettes that mask dancers behind a gauzy drape. The drape lifts, revealing a minimalist but effective set with a huge screen backdrop that displays mood-altering graphics. A simple open box-like structure will shift use and mood throughout the production depending solely on how it is lit and how the dancers treat it.

We are thrust into the joyful, bustling thrum of a small village. People are happy. A man (the father) does acrobatic head dancing, then leaps and gyrates with superhuman speed and lightness. The dancers wear brightly colored costumes. There is a spritely playfulness in their steps.

Suddenly, bombs explode, menacing soldiers show up, and this peaceful community is peaceful no more. Violence and danger are now armed and in charge. Costumes change from primary to earthen tones.

Many villagers are sent to a refugee camp, where they are humiliated and tortured. Costumes again change, this time to gray, the benign box in center stage becomes a jail, and rape, pillage, and death are hinted at.

Sting’s “Don’t Stand So Close To Me” and the lyric “To hurt they try and try” are especially powerful and spot-on soundtracks.

Our family flees across the ocean on a flimsy raft, eventually having to separate to safer ground as strangers in strange lands.

“Rescue me before I fall into despair…I’ll send an S.O.S. to the world,” Sting sings as Act I ends somberly.

Act II is more uplifting, though to her credit, Prince does not tie it all together in a happily-ever-after bow. The daughter ends up in a Tahiti-like community where everyone wears long, billowy green skirts and offers her love, safety and a fresh start. Haunted by her trauma and missing her family, she nonetheless latches on and stays.

The two brothers find love, one in the arms of a man, the other in the arms of a woman. (ZooNation is a true company. None of the dancers have named headshots, so I can’t applaud them separately. However, the impossibly willowy blond who plays the bride is the production’s knockout standout.) The scenes of their rebound, with sensational pas de deux, are emotionally tender and artistically astonishing.

Although the siblings may never find each other again, the ending is hopeful; they are together in spirit. They have each found a new life that allows them to live in inner and outer peace.

It is not easy to describe the sheer miracle of this show. The 23 dancers move as a single unit, heaving and weaving in controlled yet casual waves as they leap, twirl, and use their limbs as organic punctuation. Yet individuals become recognizable, especially the blond bride and whirling dervish who play the father in the opening scenes. What a pleasure — and how noticeable — that Prince has brought members of her London-based company on the road with her instead of relying on a touring company to step into their impossible-to-fill shoes.

Prince’s choreography and direction are unquestionable genius. She (and dramaturg Lolita Chakrabati OBE) have woven together a contemporary story about the chaos and upheaval in the world as over 100 million people—more than half under age 18—are forced from their homes only to be greeted as unwelcome immigrants when they seek shelter elsewhere. And they have done it using the language of dancers’ bodies instead of spoken dialogue. The sheer dramatic power of this feat can neither be overstated nor overpraised.

The coordination of set, lighting, costumes, sound, and videography changes tone, place, and time in subtle and effective ways. The boat scenes, in particular, evoke what it would feel like to be at the mercy of both politics and roiling seas.

The lighting is organic, becoming a character that evokes woodcuts, rain, a prison, a love nest, and lush landscapes. In “The Bed’s Too Big Without You,” projected images and razor-sharp choreography and direction create a diorama that the audience can just slip inside.

While the dancers and the realness they bring to the stage can’t be overemphasized, the night really belongs to Sting, who re-recorded his songs for this production, many with female guest vocalists. He has had so many hits over the decades, changing genres and flowing from The Police to various musical partnerships and solo endeavors, that it is easy to forget what a brilliant songwriter and musician he is. Prince has cherry-picked the most perfect lyrics to narrate her story, and hearing this playlist elevates Sting’s work to that of a full opera score. Andrew Lloyd Weber can only be pea green with envy.

This show must be seen both because of its raw and relevant message and because it celebrates the extraordinary feats humans can achieve when they work together to create instead of to destroy.

‘Message In A Bottle’ — Music and Lyrics by Sting. Directed and Choreographed by Kate Prince. Music Supervisor and New Arrangements by Alex Lacamoire; Set Design by Ben Stones; Video Design by Andrej Goulding; Costume Design by Anna Fleischle; Lighting Design by Natasha Chivers; Sound Design by David McEwan. Presented by Sadler’s Wells and Universal Music UK Production with ZooNation: The Kate Prince Company at Emerson Colonial Theatre, 106 Boylston St., Boston, through March 30.

For tickets and more information, go to: https://www.emersoncolonialtheatre.com