A powerful, hard-hitting drama that tells the vital story of the effect of the IDF on young minds
Upon entering the dimly lit, intimate theatre room at Pleasance Courtyard, each member of the audience is handed a slip of paper and a pen. We’re asked to write down one thing we know about the Israel/Palestine conflict. At the end, we’ll be questioned on whether we still believe it to be true. Until then, four accomplished Israeli and Palestinian actors from the Floating Shed company take us through heart-wrenching tales of teenagers conscripted into the IDF (Israel Defence Forces) via a series of evocative sketches.
The initial introduction is frantic and loud. The players contort grotesquely across the floor, shouting, singing and banging a snare drum. “Jew, you are a soldier in the IDF,” they exclaim, before chanting “three years, three years, three years…”. It’s an intensely compelling way to open a play based on such a sober topic, successfully serving to focus everyone’s attention centre-stage.
The only props are two floor lamps, some upturned crates, an old train seat, dusty boombox, red plastic cups and a mess of poker chips. It doesn’t seem like much, but it’s more than enough to set the scenes, one of which is a pre-drinks gathering before a Purim party. Here we find Adam (Harvey Schorah), dressed casually in shorts and a t-shirt. He’s medically exempt from service and is complaining about a peace protest he attended at the border, where protestors were met with water canons and brute force at the hands of the police. Little does he know that his friend Osher (Tarik Badwan) was one of the officers. “You’re half Palestinian for Christ’s sake,” he yells when he finds out. “How can you walk about in that uniform?”
Osher – still clutching his automatic rifle – may be complicit, but he’s clearly in acute pain, both emotionally and physically. As the group jokes and drinks, he tells them of a punishment he received for rolling up his sleeves to cool down in the desert during training. His superiors made him crawl for three miles across rocky ground with bare arms. “It’s better than the tank guys,” he says, brushing it off, explaining that they only get to go home every 21 days.
It's powerful to see the playful, innocent nature of these young men contrasted with the harsh realities of war. We also get an insight into the propaganda they’re fed by the government, institution and education system, and how it breeds a toxic atmosphere in which they feel that not only can they not talk about their struggles – but shouldn’t. The very same propaganda that persuades them they should be willing to sacrifice their own wellbeing, physically and/or mentally, in order to protect their country.
Omri (Nadav Burstein) – whose role in the army is confidential, though we’re made aware that he’s privy to intelligence he wishes he wasn’t – is also suffering. He doesn’t show it to his friends, but we see it when he sits beneath one of the floor lamps, which doubles as the psych office, shining a literal spotlight on his feelings of isolation and deteriorating mental health. The only one of the group seemingly unaffected is Yonatan (Tom Dalrymple), an enthusiastic pilot-in-training. “It’s like being a child again,” he says of the experience of flying, “being pushed on the swings by my dad.”
Rebels and Patriots isn’t an easy watch. The subject matter is deeply troubling and you’d be hard-pushed to leave the theatre without shedding a tear, but these boys’ stories need to be told. Now more than ever. Floating Shed’s show provides that all-important glimpse into the humanity behind the beast that is the IDF.
By Danielle Goldstein
Rebels and Patriots runs until Monday 26 August. 3pm. £10-£14, £11/£13 concs. Pleasance Courtyard (Upstairs), EH8 9TJ. tickets.edfringe.com/whats-on/rebels-and-patriots