SCREEN

Rehearsals: A Love Letter to What Happens Backstage

When the play you wrote becomes the life you’re living

Abigail Zamir
|
2 min read

It feels like another lifetime, but between 2017-2021 I was studying for my master’s degree in theater at Tel Aviv University. It was a four-year acting program with additional theory courses — and it was intense. Long hours of rehearsals into the night, followed by waking up early in the morning for another day of, you guessed it, rehearsals. But rehearsals are where the art truly happens: where you sculpt the character from within yourself, where you fail miserably and get up again, where you experience moments of pure joy and discovery. That is exactly what the Israeli series חזרות (chah-zah-roht), “Rehearsals,” remarkably captures on screen: the magic that happens not on stage, but in the rehearsal room.

The series follows Iris (Noa Koler), a young playwright, and Tomer (Erez Drigues), a director, a couple who break up just as their dream project gets accepted to one of Tel Aviv’s most prestigious theaters. The play is based on their relationship, and they are forced to work together as fresh exes, navigating rehearsals for a production that tells the story of their love. To make things more complicated, two TV stars (played by actors Agam Rodberg and Itay Turgeman) are cast to play them on stage, and watching someone else perform your heartbreak is its own kind of comedy.

What makes חזרות feel so distinctly Tel Avivian is its sharp, knowing portrayal of the local theater scene. The egos, the politics, the eternal tension between art and commerce, it’s all there served with a wink. Yevgenia Dodina is perfect as the dry, no-nonsense theater manager who’s seen it all. The interactions between characters feel real, even when they’re hilarious. And because this is a comedy-drama, you find yourself laughing out loud, and then, when you least expect it — comes the punch.

Life mirrors art, art mirrors life, and at the end of the day you find yourself in a room with your partner (whether on or off stage) trying to figure it all out. The series doesn’t shy away from the disappointments, the pain, the failures, the messiness of what it means to be an actor in Israel, or probably anywhere else. It doesn’t try to sugarcoat the struggle, and the faults and weaknesses of its characters are what makes the story land, and stay with you long after the final episode.

There’s something חזרות understands deeply: rehearsals matter. Not just in theater, but in life. It seems to most of us that the show, the applause, are the most important things. But it’s actually the journey, as corny as it may sound, that changes us and helps us evolve as humans. We rarely get things right the first time: we stumble, improvise, we insult our companions along the way, and they insult us. But through the painful and rewarding process of rehearsals, we grow. The final performance is what we’re working towards, it is the reward, but 95% of the time — we’re in rehearsals.

 

 

About the Author

Abigail Zamir is a content writer and Hebrew teacher at Citizen Café. She holds a Master’s in Theatre Arts, and has a never-ending love for Israeli cinema, short stories, and biking along the promenade by the sea in Tel Aviv.

Abigail Zamir

Discover More

Discover More

Skip to main content

Hebrew Nugget:

Rehearsals: A Love Letter to What Happens Backstage

The past year has been an emotional rollercoaster – moving from the shock, pain, and sadness of unimaginable events to the moments of hope we felt with each hostage coming home, each family reunited, and every soldier returning safely. Alongside this, we’ve found countless reasons to be grateful – for the incredible outpouring of support from civilians, and for the things we still hold dear, like our families, our partners, and our community. But these feelings are always mixed with the ache and despair that everyone in Israel still carries, even now.
I’d say the best way to describe how everyone around me is feeling is רגשות מעורבים (reh-gah-shoht meh-oh-rah-veem), which means “mixed emotions.” רגש (reh-gehsh) means “an emotion” in singular, but in plural, רגשות, it might sound feminine with the “OHT” ending. But here’s the catch: this doesn’t change the gender of the noun or the adjective that follows, which still matches the singular form. So, it’s מעורבים and not מעורבות. It’s just one of those quirks of Hebrew that’s tricky to explain.