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Yentl (Marylebone Theatre)

Yentl. Marylebone Theatre, London. March 2026.

(seen at the afternoon performance on 15th March 2026)

Sadly, “Yiddish Theatre” in the UK now exists only in the memories of a very few elders of the Jewish Community, plus a single 1987 television documentary, “Wandering Stars.”

This Australian Kadimah Yiddish Theatre Production is a highly successful attempt to bring back a little of that lost magic.

As the programme and post-show discussion (the monkey got lucky there was one today) notes, various techniques are borrowed to lend an air of authenticity. Michal Wolf’s make-up design has the entire cast wear vivid white powdered faces as their stage ancestors did.

Galit Klas translates about a third of the dialogue into Yiddish (clear surtitles provided) and fixes the pronunciation in Lodz area, so don’t write in if you find it slightly different, as the monkey did. Not always entirely accurate translation, anyway – they incorrectly miss the Hebrew for “King” in a blessing, for example – but thrilling and respectful of the holy name.

Yentl. Marylebone Theatre, London. March 2026.

Most of all, writers Gary Abrahams and Elise Esther Hearst introduce a common Yiddish Theatre character – a “yeytser ho’re” (“Evil Inclination”) sprite-type as a sort of narrator / interlocutor.

Played by the company’s artistic director Evelyn Krape, “The Figure” is an elderly woman, sometimes wearing ram’s horns, commentating, guiding, criticising, rebuking and even fondly guiding three confused naïve teenagers through first love and early adult life.

In this 1962 Isaac Bashevis Singer story, Yentl (Amy Hack) is the Torah-hungry daughter of a Yeshiva (religious school teaching Torah) teacher. Women cannot study it. When her father dies, Yentl disguises herself as a boy, “Anshel” and sells her home to find a Yeshiva elsewhere to study at.

Meeting Avigdor (Ashley Margolis), she follows him to his Yeshiva, and becomes involved in his failed engagement to local important man’s daughter Hodes (Genevieve Kingsford). An ill-fated love triangle filled with dark secrets and passionate longing.

Abrahams and Hearst achieve something remarkable. Usually, when audiences know from the beginning the key secret, (think “Martin Guerre” is an imposter), all drama is lost, the story negated through lack of tension.

Here, the tension increases exponentially as we barrel towards the final scenes. We are on “shpilkes” (little bit of Yiddish there, yes indeed) to find out if, when and how Yentl will deliver the truth. When it comes, it is perfectly staged. *

Amy Hack’s Yentl embodies Yiddishkeit – devotion to the Jewish faith. Her post-show interview had her admitting she was wondering about the presence of her grandparents as she played her final moments, binding tefillin (small black leather boxes on long straps containing parchment scrolls with Torah verses) to her arm.

The fire of her hair colour represents the fire in her soul for knowledge and liberation of thought. Her generosity and determination to share it and thus improve lives for all she encounters, shines. Yet she is flawed, uncertain and endearingly vulnerable.

Long-serving cast member Genevieve Kingsford as Hodes is emotionally damaged, even more vulnerable than Yentl, whose ‘Anshel’ persona she falls for. Kingsford took 4 years with the play to calibrate her performance, and it pays off.

More than just the wealthy daughter trying to do her duty, her unsure yet positive response to the opportunity to study reveals much about why both Anshel and Avigdor are attracted to her and she to them. The key middle player, a remarkable balancing act to power the explorations.

Ashley Margolis, lone male in the company, brings Talmudic precision to Avigdor. A teenage boy – physical sport like swimming, physical and emotional urges for sex (love, well, if it leads to sex, that’s OK too) and a semi-devoted, semi-dutiful thirst for rabbinical knowledge combine to form a conflicted, deep and deeply satisfying character.

As the three young people circle, learning from their reactions to each other about themselves, we are ensnared firmly in their lives. Dann Barber’s simple wooden shtetl set with Torah-encrusted curtain and two rocks on muddy ground proves a versatile backdrop.

It is noticeable that the long initial scene by “The Figure” to set up the situation, while remarkably and engagingly played by Krape, feels a little long compared to the emotionally immaculately honed writing which follows.

Oddly, it is also interesting that should a stage musical adaptation of the 1983 Streisand film be considered, this script structure points the way. The monkey could see clearly where emotive dialogue could be telescoped by use of song, and also how the story requires simplicity – maybe not quite 4 actors, but certainly not “the whole megillah” (another little bit of Yiddish there, yes indeed) either.

Raw and truthful emotions, underpinned by devotion to faith and purity in love. Discovering the need for these things and the lengths we must go to in order to find them. “Yentl” satisfies because it has it all, exploring it to the full.

5 stars.

*Thanks to the post-show session, the monkey was able to ask writer Gary Abrahams how it was achieved. His answer that the small “almost revealing” throwaway double-meaning comments referencing the unspoken and the erratic emotional growth of each character were key. Fascinating.

Seating note: There is a strong smell of latex in the front few rows, and audience members in the front row may be hit by small pieces falling from the stage. Those with an allergy should sit at least six rows back.

Photo credit: Igor Turin, from the Australian production.

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