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Culture Theatre

Zisele

ZISELE directed and choreographed by Moria Zrachia (Beit Lessin/Harold Green Jewish Theatre Company). To June 13. At the Jane Mallett (27 Front East). See listing. Rating: NNN


Zisele, from Tel Aviv’s Beit Lessin Theatre, isn’t bad. But for one of the international works premiering on Luminato’s opening night, it’s awfully slight.

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Director/choreographer Moria Zrachia’s piece is a brief 55-minute (the fest program says 75) dance/theatre ode to mothers and daughters.

The set is minimal except for a series of empty picture frames in the background, but Zrachia and Neta Blumenthal’s evocative costumes and hairstyles suggest the early 1960s. The musical backdrop, which provides lots of nostalgic ambience and texture, includes recordings from full-throated singer Chava Alberstein and the swing-era Barry Sisters.

Through a series of vignettes, some obvious, others subtly observed, four sets of mother-daughters come into focus. There’s also a boy (Matan Zrachia), who’s got the same nerdy glasses and bad posture as his sister.

In one sequence, the mothers parade their kids’ exceptional (not!) musical talents in another, the mothers competitively play cards while their kids nervously eye a candy bowl they’ve been instructed not to touch.

There are some fine touches, such as the repeated use of a kerchief flung down to represent some sort of grief or upset. And in one of the more amusing sequences, the tossing of candies at a bar mitzvah boy becomes fraught with tension, anger and jealousy.

Even though few words are spoken (and occasionally sung), the well-cast performers make their characters emerge clearly so that every shrug, grin or tilt of the head registers fully.

I just wish there were more substance. The slight climax – about the kids’ mini-rebellion, which leads to anger, guilt and reconciliation – comes so quickly that the curtain call feels premature. It’s also strangely undramatic for a piece that we’re told (in the program) was inspired by the choreographer’s mother’s life as the child of Holocaust survivors.

My yakking neighbours summed it up: “What – they’re over already?”

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