In the Shadow of Her Father – 17 August 2025
The premise of In the Shadow of her Father asked dynamic and interesting questions about the rewards and consequences of military service. The story highlights an adopted daughter of a Vietnam veteran, who proudly says he saved her from an orphanage in Lebanon on his second overseas tour. As the story progresses, the audience learns more about the father’s PTSD and the way it plays into his overprotectiveness, breeding co-dependence with his daughter which restricts her ability to make choices about how she lives her life. When she falls in love with a happenstance stranger, the line between legitimate medical care needs and faking an ailment to keep his daughter by his side begins to blur, and her frustration mounts until both begin to act out of anger where there used to be love.
Perhaps on purpose, Omar Bakry’s script doesn’t fully flesh out these characters. He leaves a lot for the actors to imagine in terms of personality. All of the effort is focused on the linear progression of the story, such that we understand the plot points and the characters’ emotional hassle around advancing the plot, but even in these moments of struggle a lot is left to the imagination. By defining these characters loosely, Bakry offers two opportunities: one to the actors, and one to the audience. Bakry lets these characters float perilously close to archetypes. Boy meets Girl. Boy and Girl fall in love. There are obstacles. Girl has a complicated relationship with her Father. Boy and Girl don’t make it but part amicably, albeit disappointed. It’s a story on which anyone can project something familiar; it’s a story in which anyone can find a piece of themselves. The details we do have are similarly universal: being torn between romantic and familial love, seeking an authentic identity, wanting to save and be saved, struggling with plans that go awry, confronting trauma, and needing a balanced life but not fully understanding what specifically that means. The specifics we get are easily discardable: Pennsylvania, a pet shop, a farmer’s market, falafel, Cincinnati. Thus what could have been an exoticized, fantastical story ends up being close and relatable. This vagueness is deeply intentional—it forces us to stay present, to understand, and to hold space.
The duality of the father, Walter (Roger Hendricks Simon) lends itself to a truly remarkable performance. Simultaneously villain and victim, Walter is the picture of the suffering hero. Lighting design (Jen Leno) plays a subtle yet important part in conveying Walter’s mindset, slowly shifting colors and narrowing focus when his flashbacks overcome him. In the end, it is the truth that sets him free, yet there is dissonance because the truth is ugly. It sets the romance between his daughter, Ava (Inji el Gammal) and Nabil (Khaled Abol Naga) off course, as the foundation of Ava’s reality is shaken by Walter’s final confession. Though some might find this ending profoundly sad, as the couple we’ve been rooting for ends up going their separate ways, this is actually another iteration of Bakry’s universality. Because Ava and Nabil do not end up together, their stories do not end. Each is going to have to heal and keep living, just as we do in the real world.
The lack of finality is its own finality—peace and love don’t just happen. They require time, commitment, and truth, and one has to be ready to embrace them. Despite being bonded in some ways, Ava and Nabil will continue to exist in each other’s heads and hearts in a rather nebulous way. This is how real life relationships go. There is no finality except in forgetting. Despite the pain and horrors of the world, life continues and time marches on. Bakry is committed to depicting life as it is, not as it ought to be. Life is repetitive and taxing. Love is fraught with uncertainty. Family can be complicated. And also—for as long as we keep living, we will find a way to embrace little joys from the people and places we cherish most.
I attended this performance on a press pass from Berlin Rosen.

