By Eric George Tauber
SAN DIEGO — How far can you run from yourself?
Playwright Ayad Akhtar gives us Amir, a man born in America to Pakistani Muslim parents. But he describes his heritage as “Indian” because Americans find it less threatening. Amir calls the Koran “one long hate-mail to humanity.” He felt that he had to walk away from a faith that taught him to hate others … particularly Jews.
His WASPy American wife disagrees. Allison Spratt-Pearce, as Emily, speaks with great conviction about the influence of Islamic Art on Western Civilization. Not quite a convert, she’s drinking half the cup, embracing only those aspects of Islam that jive with her liberal values.
Amir’s nephew Abe was born Malik Hussain, but he’s changed it to “Abe Jensen” to assimilate. Still a devout Muslim, he wants his uncle to help a controversial imam who has been accused of fundraising for the despots of Gaza, Hamas. Whether or not it’s true, the accusation makes the imam a pretty hot rock to hold, especially for a Muslim who works in a Jewish firm.
Enter Isaac, an art curator and secular Jew who wants to showcase Emily’s work. He waxes poetically about the power of spirituality in art … between bites of pork.
Jory, Isaac’s black wife, is a corporate lawyer who has worked her way from the streets of Harlem to an office with a view in Manhattan. Monique Gaffney delivers, as always, a powerful and complex character. She is well-educated and articulate, but she can’t hide the street savvy girl from the ghetto that makes her a powerhouse in the courtroom.
The two mixed couples get together for a dinner party. In a free exchange on the subjects of race and religion, the grill starts cooking and the people get burned. It’s a night that will leave them forever changed.
Ronobir Lahiri is compelling as Amir, a complex cocktail of pride, shame, anxiety, apostasy and unresolved anger. Kealla Milles Jr. was the best I’ve ever seen him as Abe. Where other characters are running from themselves, Abe embraces his Muslim identity. A young man boiling with anger, fear and frustration, he makes us afraid both of him and for him as he sets his sights on a very dark and dangerous road.
But I just couldn’t buy Richard Baird as Isaac, whose work I’ve greatly enjoyed in other things. Hand him a rapier and he’s right at home. As an anxiety-driven Woody Allen knock-off, not so much.
Disgraced is a gripping drama that will leave you holding your breath. Hats off to Director Michael Arabian. He found that the most powerful moments are not just in the words, but in the pregnant silences in between.
Is Islam truly a religion of peace, or does it hunger for power and thirst for blood with an appetite that will never be sated? That question is far beyond the scope of this article. But for an evening of theatre, Disgraced is a reminder to us all to beware the monster within.
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Tauber is a freelance writer specializing in coverage of the arts. He may be contacted via eric.tauber@sdjewishworld.com