Gotterman (Rich Topol, center) advises the Judenrat as to the selection of Jews for deportation.
“Power corrupts” is a global, historical truism, possibly even more so when conquerors ensnare the vanquished to do their dirty work. Such was the case for Jews in the mid–20th century in Europe’s Nazi-controlled ghettoes. The Nazis often appointed Jewish leaders to decide on the people to be deported—often a death sentence. The Jewish-run panels were called Judenrats. In Leslie Epstein’s King of the Jews, adapted from his novel of the same name, an ethnic German Nazi enforcer in Łódź, Poland, authorizes a group of Jews to select fellow Jews for deportation.
Director Alexandra Aron has staged this tense drama in a nightclub, configured with small, circular tables and chairs, with the audience seated on them, as well as on the periphery. The upbeat music and ambience of the opening scene belie the anxiety in the room, even though Fried Rievesaltes (Dave Shalansky), owner and emcee, has managed to keep open the only Jewish-operated, fully functional nightclub in Nazi-controlled Łódź. This club, immersively designed by Laura Helpern with the playing area amid tables and elegant furnishings, provides a respite from the degradation of Łódź’s ghetto life.
Fried Rievesaltes (Dave Shalansky, rear) looks on as Wohltat (Daniel Oreskes) flirts with Mme. Rievesaltes (Rachel Botchan).
Among the regulars are a singer, Mme. Rievesaltes, later known as Phelia (Rachel Botchan), and a trio of musicians who include Hungarian pianist and furrier, Schpitalnik (Jonathan Spivey); cellist and violinist Dorka Kleinweiss (Erica Spyres); and trumpeter Gutfreind (JP Sarro). They set a lighthearted mood. There are also a bartender, two rabbis who bicker humorously over a collapsed bed, and others. Yet it is Dr. Gotterman (Rich Topol), a mysterious stranger besotted with Rievesaltes, whose character undergoes the most dramatic transformation.
Suddenly a teenager, Nisel Lipiczany (Wesley Tiso), disheveled, shell-shocked, and missing identification papers, barges into the club, seeking shelter from the Nazis. Then Wohltat (Daniel Oreskes), a German enforcer, arrives in hot pursuit. Although he cares more about boosting the numbers of Jewish deportees than the fate of any one Jew, Wohltat spots the disguised Nisel, and demands that the crowd hand over the fugitive.
Those present argue about giving Nisel to the Nazis. Kleinweiss says to Gutfreind:. “Herman! You’re an idealist. Would a revolutionary just give them the boy?” Gutfreind replies, “The fate of an individual is less important than the good of the masses.” Rievesaltes turns to the bickering rabbis and asks, “Do we hand over the boy? Or do you want to be the first one on the Judenrat?
When they don’t turn over the boy, Wohltat compels them to establish a Judenrat to regulate ghetto life. They must compile lists of Jews to be deported. Some of those present “delude” themselves about Hitler’s alleged plan to relocate them to Madagascar—a “solution” for ridding Europe of Jews that the Nazis seriously considered as early as 1938. Nevertheless, others understand that those who are selected for relocations to farm “work” will being sent to death camps.
Rievesaltes, chosen to head the Judenrat, is charged with turning in Nisal, but he is stripped, beaten, and killed, allegedly by local Poles. Gotterman succeeds him as “King of the Jews”; he lacks bona fide medical credentials but holds sway over the others. Wohltat compels the widow Rievesaltes to be his paramour. Others bargain with him too, using jewelry, valuables and sex to slash the number of deportees.
Schotter, a comedian (Dave Deblinger, front), makes jokes for the club’s audience while Gotterman (Rich Topol, right rear) peruses the list of Jews in the city. and Rabbi Martini (Allen Lewis Rickman) looks on. Photographs by Russ Rowland.
Lighting designer Zach Blane’s on again-off again, sometimes flickering illumination of the very art deco light fixtures conveys the fragility of the characters’ moment-to-moment existence, replete with blackouts, curfews and violence all around. At least, though, they have had lighting, whereas the ghetto has been in darkness. All around, the nasty job that Wohltat has assigned to the Judenrat becomes still nastier when, deprived of electricity and basic life necessities, they all turn to Gotterman, who becomes drunk with power and lords it over the others.
From the moment that Nisel, in the presence of Wohltat, drapes the cape that disguised him over Gotterman’s shoulders, Gotterman becomes more adored and less humane. Wohltat joyfully exclaims, “Excellent! An excellent selection!” Later, as the club’s lights begin to dim, the nearly blind rabbi Verble identifies Gotterman by touch and exclaims, “I know … him! It is the King of the Jews!” As the last light fades, Nisel drops to his knees, adoring Gotterman.
King of the Jews focuses on people trapped into making impossible decisions and the difficulty in ordinary people judging those living through extraordinary experiences. Aron, the technicians, and the cast have so artfully embodied Epstein’s treatment of complex issues that it’s clear that such judgments are both infeasible and unfair.
King of the Jews runs at HERE Arts Center (145 Sixth Ave.), through Nov. 18. Evening performances are at 7 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday.; matinees are at 2 p.m. Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday. For more information, or to purchase tickets, call the box office at 212-647-0202 or visit here.org/shows/king-of-the-jews/.
Playwright: Leslie Epstein
Director: Alexandra Aron
Set Design: Lauren Helpern
Lighting Design: Zach Blane
Costume Design: Oana Botez
Sound Design: Jane Shaw
