If you take the view that art is inherently subversive, it's tragic that October 7 exists.
The play, the latest from Phelim McAleer and Ann McElhinney, brings the stories of victims and survivors of the Oct. 7 attacks to life.
McAleer is credited as the writer, though the words themselves come from verbatim transcripts of interviews he and McElhinney conducted in Israel in the aftermath of Hamas' murder of 1,200 people, not to mention the rapes, kidnappings, and other horrors that, for at least one father, made death preferable.
As one man, Michael (Randy Schein), says of his slain daughter Rachel:
"We are crying, but at least she just was killed. She didn't get raped. She didn't... she wasn't burned alive. Only in Israel, only here, to be a parent and to say, 'We feel happy because she just was killed and not more than that.'"
In a sane world, the mourning father's words would be universally worthy of sympathy. But in 2024, what happened to Rachel is not an unspeakable crime, but rather an act of "resistance" by an "oppressed" people.
This brings us back to the point about subversiveness. It didn't take long for the global consolation and outrage of Oct. 8 to wane. Even by the time McAleer and McElhinney were in Israel just a few weeks later, many around the world had already started to think that maybe the Israelis had it coming.
Jews are being told to get over it, which is a lofty ask for the biggest slaughter of them since the Holocaust. As it happened, just a few days before I saw October 7, McElhinney's native Ireland (along with Spain and Norway) announced it would be recognizing Palestine as a state. Seventy-six years of Israeli statehood and these countries felt seven months after the Nova attack was the best opportunity to make such a move.
Such a development is par for the course in the post-Oct. 7 world, as is the fact that the play requires armed security and New York Police Department protection to safely run at its off-broadway venue, the Actors' Temple Theatre.
A play spotlighting Hamas' brutality and Israeli survival is not only now political, but inexplicably controversial.
We get a brief glimpse of the pre-Oct. 7 innocence, however. Before the play begins, the actors make their way to the stage to dance – much like thousands of Israelis were not long before terrorists launched their siege of the Nova music festival.
A point the play captures well is how apolitical Hamas' targets were. This was a concert – a "psychedelic trance" concert, to be more specific. Sex and drugs were far higher on the priority list for attendees than anything to do with Israeli foreign policy. Shani Louk, whose lifeless body was driven through the streets by a group of terrorists, was such a pacifist that she managed to get an exemption from Israeli military service.
And yet, Hamas – and its sycophants in the west – still viewed Louk and the rest as fair game.
With October 7's minimalist set and emphasis on storytelling rather than action, the survivors' words – and through them their emotions – are front and center. We see the resilience of the Israeli people on full display.
"I know he is dangerous, very dangerous, but the fear was not there. He doesn't deserve my fear," says Biliya (Leora Kalish) as she describes looking at a terrorist who was trying to shoot her. Fortunately, his gun jammed and an IDF reservist killed him instead.
The heroism exhibited by many Israelis is also apparent, with the play showcasing just a few of the countless stories of individuals driving into the war zone to rescue civilians, even as they heard gunfire and saw bodies lining the streets.
In the midst of this, there are moments of levity. ("Well, if they're going to kill me, at least I will die decently," one woman says as she describes putting on her underwear in the midst of the attack).
These asides are remarkable when you recall they aren't McAleer's prerogative as playwright but rather survivors managing to find the humour in what they've endured. (Although Jews have a fair bit of experience with this).
Frustrations with the Israeli government's inability to prevent the massacre also come through.
What stood out to me above all was a moment of exasperation from one man, an Orthodox Jew who tells of getting in his car on shabbat to go rescue people from the festival.
"Yes. I broke shabbat," says Zaki (Jeff Gurner). "It's obvious. To save people. It's the most important thing in Judaism. To save a life. It's the most holy thing. This was the first time in many years that I'd done that. So, I hope people will learn something about us religious people. We are not some closed community who care only about ourselves. Maybe now they will look differently at religious people."
Zaki saw over a thousand of his countrymen slaughtered for being Jewish and was witnessing the global rise of antisemitism and a growing discontent with Israel. He has every reason in the world to be bitter and vengeful, and yet, he just longs to be accepted.
Seeing October 7 left me feeling a strange blend of demoralization and hopefulness. On one hand, the world has turned its back on Israel and the Jewish people time and time again. But on the other, they have continuously shown their ability to rise up against all obstacles and emerge victorious. I have no doubt they will survive this.
As Tal (Marissa O'Donnell) puts it, "We will dance again."
October 7 is playing at the Actors' Temple Theatre in New York until June 16. Details and tickets are available here. There's a special promo code for SteynOnliners that will get you twenty-five per cent off: OCT7PLAY25.
Andrew Lawton is the author of the new bestseller Pierre Poilievre: A Political Life. Learn more about his previous book, The Freedom Convoy: The Inside Story of Three Weeks that Shook the World in this extended interview on The Mark Steyn Show.
