Hannah Senesh – 22 October 2025

As I walked into the National Yiddish Theatre Folksbiene’s production of Hannah Senesh, the first thing I was struck by was Court Watson’s intriguing scenic design. The set was painted in bold colors that at first glance felt like an abstract mural. Everything changed when the lights went down. I was mesmerized with the way Watson’s scenic design was utterly transformed into diverse environments in Hungary, Mandatory Palestine, and Yugoslavia by the creativity of lighting designer Vivien Leone. The seemingly blank space in the back wall became the breaking of dawn, many sunsets, and the stars, while tan swaths became deserts, mountains, and prisons, with the blue being ocean and sky; gobos created windows and forests. Beyond the physical, tangible needs of the show, lighting in conjunction with sound (Dan Moses Schrieier) created loneliness, freedom, imprisonment, and empowerment, supported by costuming (Izzy Fields), which took on every practical need with grace and flair while also aging characters before our eyes with the fabrics, textures, colors, and patterns. This is the world in which the production dropped the character of Hannah Senesh (Jennifer Apple). It was a literal representation of Senesh’s most famous poem, “Eli, Eli”, which talks about “the sand and the sea, the rush of the waves, [and] the crash of the heavens”.

Within this world already created out of her own words, we see Hannah Senesh as “the prayer of man”.  The play starts with Hannah’s mother, Catherine (Jennifer Apple) describing the first time she saw her daughter, Hannah, imprisoned for her political activism. This conceit allows the production to recount Hannah’s story when she was forced to stop writing and to be specific about the gruesome nature of Hannah’s Hungarian court ordered execution. After this moment, we sit in the darkness, getting one of our first glimpses at Steven Lutvak’s beautiful musical arrangements which carry us through Hannah’s most spiritual moments throughout the show. When Apple reappears onstage, she plays Hannah as a 13 year old child. We begin to see characteristics that never fade as the performance moves through time. Apple does a particularly impressive job of gracefully aging Hannah’s precocious intellect and development of political ideas. We see the character harden with determination as she grows from someone whose feelings can get hurt at a party to someone who chooses death rather than betraying her comrades in arms and wants to look her executioners in the eye as they shoot her. In a truly astonishing feat of brilliance, Apple makes this growth feel natural, and lets Hannah’s curiosity and depth grow, especially in vulnerable moments.

Hannah Senesh as a historical figure is known for her bravery and her sacrifice, but most resoundingly for her words. The most important work that the National Yiddish Theatre Folksbiene does with this production is bringing the hope that Catherine Senesh describes at the end of the show into our modern world. Knowing that there have been real people who lived through the world’s most trying times and still found meaning in the flicker of a candle, a piece of kindling, a folk song, the faith in the good people of the world, and the joy of carrying those you’ve loved and lost within your heart, creates an intensely hopeful moment.

Right now, many of the difficulties Hannah faced have cycled back to our political forefront: antisemitism, fascism, and war, to name a few. Hannah died fighting these things, and she died not only for her identity but also for her convictions. It does not matter that many of us are unsure if we are ready to do the same. Knowing this history means contemplating the importance of doing so, and also knowing that those who do so make a difference and are remembered. Every time Jennifer Apple began to sing “Eli, Eli” on stage, someone somewhere in the audience would inevitably start humming along. In most theatrical settings, I’d consider that an annoying disturbance. However, in this context, it was a cultural bridge across times, evocative of the survival of Hannah’s words and Hannah’s spirit. We all need a little piece of that spirit and that courage now. In the words of Hannah Senesh, “I pray that these things never end.”

I attended this performance on a press pass from Shira Dicker Media International.