Hirsch

I truly do not know what to make of this work. It was “created and conceived” and entirely performed by Alon Nashman, and the program notes make it clear that its picture of the late, former artistic director of the Stratford Shakespeare Festival, John Hirsch, is a personal and creative one, not entirely historically accurate, but based upon reports and observations of Nashman and many artistic associates of Hirsch. I saw and heard references to this new play as a “tribute” to John Hirsch.

Now, I don’t like the term “tribute” because in most cases it just means a method of making money from the fame and work of great talents without ever paying them anything. But it does usually imply great respect for the meal-ticket.

Weeks before this world premiere, I had a very pleasant discussion with its director and part-creator, Paul Thompson, who understandably said virtually nothing about Nashman’s work or the nature of the play but did make very obvious Thompson’s own great admiration of John Hirsch and his recollections of some of Hirsch’s astoundingly fine achievements as a director.

I did not know John Hirsch well, certainly not with the intimate recall reflected in this play, but I remember him as a rather shy and withdrawn man, professorial (meaning intellectual and instructive – I’m an emeritus professor, but not like that), and Jewish (twice he responded to some praise I’d offered about his work with, “From your lips to God’s ear!”). I’d heard that he’d lost his family in the Nazi Holocaust, somehow survived in Hungary without help or identity until he’d been sent to Canada at 16 and been adopted.

Certainly, he was brilliant director! I found some of his Shakespeare challenging but pedantic, but I was astounded to find Hirsch’s direction of Chekhov – compared to work I’d seen of the world’s greatest artists in Russia, the UK, and all over North America – to be what I thought the finest I’d ever seen. During the intermission of Hirsch’s dazzling 1976 Three Sisters by Chekhov, the great dancer Erik Bruhn came over and said, “I don’t see much stage drama these days: is this as good as I think it is?”.

When I saw the premiere of Hirsch, I was surprised by Nashman’s showy physical solo performance as Hirsch and by its hammy acting, but I assumed that he had seen Hirsch carrying on in ways that I never had. I caught several of the implied identifications of other Stratford figures, like Robin Phillips, and was pleased to note that this script did identify several of Hirsch’s important accomplishments and honors. But I was and remain nonplussed by the bitchy tone of the script’s reflections on Hirsch’s viciously cruel demeanor toward the actors he was directing. And it concludes that he fled from every triumph in his career to escape what was evidently unsatisfying in every phase of his life until his unhappy death. That’s a tribute?

It’s an interesting one-man show, and perhaps some of the insider gossip it reflects might titillate. But I don’t see how its unselfconscious tone can create a favorable reaction toward the unquestioned calumnist playing columnist. Is this a revenge-play?