At GableStage in South Florida, Masked is a suspenseful dusk-to-dawn story of three West Bank Palestinian brothers during the 1987-90 intifada. Because of its title, we're pretty sure secrets will be revealed; because of its setting, we suspect these will involve more than mere family grudges left over from boyhood. Strong performances (and with accents consistent and convincing), quick pacing and evocative tech make for a successful hour.
Ilan Hatsor, born and raised in Israel, wrote the play in 1990, three years into the First Intifada. He has often has pointed out that the story applies broadly to other violence-torn places where people are "victimized and manipulated by stronger and greater forces."
The story: In a gray, cinderblock room, the back wall splotched by the blood of a hanging animal carcass, Khalid, handling butchering implements, lobbies older brother Na'im to reconcile with first-born Daoud. Not an easy task: Na'im is a mid-level insurrectionist just down from the mountains; Daoud insists on washing dishes at an Israeli restaurant to support a growing family and inevitably is suspected of collaborating. Says Na'im: "Everything from before the intifada is dead." Weighing on all three is the fate of their younger brother, shot by Israelis during a protest demonstration.
This was Hatsor's first play, and its second half is mostly a rollercoaster of an argument between Na'im and Daoud, with the threat of heartbreak and the promise of reconciliation -- or at least understanding emerging and evaporating. This leaves Khalid with nothing to do for a long stretch except stand across the stage, feet apart and arms at his side. That, however, isn't the way the play ends.
