Golda's Balcony
Directed by Jeremy Kagan
In Golda’s Balcony, the eponymous subject spends the full running time talking to herself. This being filmed theater, it’s clear we’re not dealing with a weirdly nostalgic case of schizophrenia, but I wouldn’t reject the possibility that the entire movie takes place inside Israel’s most iconic prime minister’s head.
Of course, the saga of Golda Meir’s experiences writes itself. She suggested as much in her 1975 autobiography, with the plain title My Life. And William Gibson’s script for Golda’s Balcony, a recent Off-Broadway success adapted from the scribe’s more conventional 1977 Broadway show Golda, puts considerable effort into letting the woman speak for herself—at least in paraphrases. “To me, being Jewish means…being proud to be a part of a people,” Meir wrote in My Life, “with all the pain and torment inflicted upon it.” Gibson excerpts this notion early on, when Meir (aptly impersonated by Valerie Harper) observes that “struggle” could be another word for Jewish. The play itself seems to argue that Meir’s perception of ongoing cultural strife propelled her to keep the state of Israel alive.
As theater goes, Golda’s Balcony follows a very standard one-woman show routine. It hasn’t exactly been rebuffed as a “film,” although director Jeremy Kagan throws in plenty of rear projection featuring archival footage, along with jump cuts and the off-putting construction of several Goldas seemingly engaged in conversation with each other as they embody various characters. It’s the opposite of Todd Haynes’ upcoming surreal biopic I’m Not There, which gives us six people playing Dylan. Here, the same Golda plays everyone (even Moshe Dayan). At best, these devices enliven the material; at worst, they turn into gimmickry.
But the whole shebang would be nothing without the strength of its sole performer. Fortunately, Harper sustains the play without fail, taking the reigns from the pioneer of the role, Tovah Feldshuh. Harper isn’t as convincing as Lynn Cohen’s eerily accurate portrayal in Munich, but she’s given a much louder voice.
Directed by Jeremy Kagan
In Golda’s Balcony, the eponymous subject spends the full running time talking to herself. This being filmed theater, it’s clear we’re not dealing with a weirdly nostalgic case of schizophrenia, but I wouldn’t reject the possibility that the entire movie takes place inside Israel’s most iconic prime minister’s head.
Of course, the saga of Golda Meir’s experiences writes itself. She suggested as much in her 1975 autobiography, with the plain title My Life. And William Gibson’s script for Golda’s Balcony, a recent Off-Broadway success adapted from the scribe’s more conventional 1977 Broadway show Golda, puts considerable effort into letting the woman speak for herself—at least in paraphrases. “To me, being Jewish means…being proud to be a part of a people,” Meir wrote in My Life, “with all the pain and torment inflicted upon it.” Gibson excerpts this notion early on, when Meir (aptly impersonated by Valerie Harper) observes that “struggle” could be another word for Jewish. The play itself seems to argue that Meir’s perception of ongoing cultural strife propelled her to keep the state of Israel alive.
As theater goes, Golda’s Balcony follows a very standard one-woman show routine. It hasn’t exactly been rebuffed as a “film,” although director Jeremy Kagan throws in plenty of rear projection featuring archival footage, along with jump cuts and the off-putting construction of several Goldas seemingly engaged in conversation with each other as they embody various characters. It’s the opposite of Todd Haynes’ upcoming surreal biopic I’m Not There, which gives us six people playing Dylan. Here, the same Golda plays everyone (even Moshe Dayan). At best, these devices enliven the material; at worst, they turn into gimmickry.
But the whole shebang would be nothing without the strength of its sole performer. Fortunately, Harper sustains the play without fail, taking the reigns from the pioneer of the role, Tovah Feldshuh. Harper isn’t as convincing as Lynn Cohen’s eerily accurate portrayal in Munich, but she’s given a much louder voice.
