Israel is a small country: just over 10 million people, only 78 years old. You would think that for such a young and relatively small nation, the arts would not be at the forefront of its priorities, given the challenges it has faced throughout its history. Yet theatre has long been one of Israel’s most developed artistic fields, from major institutions such as the Habima National Theatre and the Cameri Theatre in Tel Aviv, to smaller venues and a thriving fringe scene throughout the country.

The range of what Israeli theatre takes on is striking: a 2012 Cameri project reimagining Richard II and Richard III (both roles played by theatre legend Itay Tiran) was a huge critical and commercial success, a reminder that Shakespeare’s themes of power and ego travel well across languages and centuries. But as much as I was mesmerised by Tiran’s performance, one of the more interesting things to watch on the Israeli stage is not Chekhov or Tennessee Williams, but rather uniquely Israeli stories. Those that speak directly to the society around them and offer a window into the contradictions of life in Israel, in a way that no translation ever can.

My personal love of performing and the written word started quite young. I was “that kind of child” who used to perform funny characters and songs at family functions, and from the moment I learned how to read, I would write down pages upon pages of stories, filled with fantastical worlds. At the age of 14, I started to attend an arts school in central Israel, and as part of my theatre major, we studied all kinds of plays. What was fascinating to me was witnessing the journey from script to stage. It was during those years that I first noticed how much Israeli playwriting was dominated by women, not only in numbers but in influence. Three playwrights stood out to me, and this year’s Book Month is a great opportunity to honor their work.

Edna Mazya: A Mirror Held to Society

One of the most striking social commentaries I was exposed to was Games in the Backyard (משחקים בחצר האחורית) by Edna Mazya. Its Based on a real case that shook Israeli society in 1988, the play explores the gang rape of a teenage girl by a group of boys from a seemingly ordinary community. Rather than focusing solely on the crime itself, Mazya examines the social environment that allowed it to happen, from victim blaming to power dynamics. The story challenges gender stereotypes and critiques how society treats abuse.

 The play became one of the most discussed Israeli works of its generation, being adapted to the stage three different times, and later translated and adapted in many European countries. 

Mazya’s work consistently challenged audiences to confront uncomfortable realities. Whether writing about relationships or social hypocrisy, her plays demonstrate the ability of theatre to function as a mirror to society. They continue to be relevant works today, even after her passing in 2023

Shulamit Lapid: The Weight of What We Leave Behind

Another playwright whose work left a lasting impression on me was Shulamit Lapid. The first monologue I ever performed was written by her. Looking back, I am fairly certain I misunderstood many parts of it at the time, but I must have done something right because after performing it for my audition, I was accepted into that arts school.

That monologue came from one of her most well-known theatrical works, Abandoned Property (רכוש נטוש). The play follows a single mother and her two daughters living in a crumbling house on the margins of society. When local authorities decide to demolish the building and offer the family a new apartment in its place, the daughters see a chance at a better future, while their mother clings to the past. 

For Israeli audiences, the title carries an additional historical weight. “Abandoned Property” was a legal term used after the War of Independence to describe homes left behind during the conflict. Lapid transforms the phrase into a layered metaphor: the house itself is abandoned property, the mother feels abandoned by the husband who left her, and her daughters fear that if they remain trapped in her world, they too will become emotionally abandoned.

Although Lapid is perhaps best known internationally as a novelist and children’s books author, her dramatic writing carries in it a deep understanding of human relationships, one that perhaps I didn’t fully understand at the age of 14, but I’ve certainly grown into more and more in the past few years.

Anat Gov: The Playwright I Almost Missed

My introduction to the works of arguably one of Israel’s greatest playwrights came a little later in my studies, around the eleventh grade. Before then, I primarily knew Anat Gov as the wife of legendary Israeli singer Gidi Gov. It was only through theatre school that I discovered her extraordinary body of work.

One year, we performed scenes from her play Oh God (אוי אלוהים), a brilliant and surprisingly funny philosophical drama in which God seeks therapy. In one of the stranger casting decisions of my teenage years, I was assigned the role of ’Death’. Looking back, I am not entirely sure what that says about how my teachers viewed me.

Premiering at the Cameri Theatre in 2008, Oh God offers a compassionate look at the challenges of life and at the twists of fate that God rains down upon us. The premise is absurd, but that was one of Gov’s greatest strengths. She could make audiences laugh and then, moments later, confront them with uncomfortable truths about mortality.

That ability became even more poignant in hindsight. Her final play, Happy End (סוף טוב) told the story of a group of women undergoing cancer treatment. She died of the disease a year after its release in 2011, and the play went on to be staged internationally, including in Paris and London. 

Perhaps her most beloved work, though, is Best Friends (חברות הכי טובות), an honest, funny, and quietly devastating portrait of female friendship and the reality of growing older and growing apart. I remember reading it in the same arts school Gov had attended decades earlier, struck by how truthfully it captured adolescence and womanhood long before that became a global cultural conversation. 

For a country as young and as small as Israel, the impact of its theatrical tradition is quite remarkable. And at the heart of that tradition stand women whose words explored themes ranging from politics to family, from violence to faith. Still, most importantly, these words continue to resonate today, long after the curtain falls.