“THERE IS NO WORD FOR SUICIDE IN YIDDISH.”

By Charlotte Mason-Mottram | Mason-Mottram ⭐⭐⭐⭐ | Press Invite

Faygele, written by Shimmy Braun, is a 90-minute exploration of queerness, faith, and silence. Inspired by the true story of a gay Orthodox Jewish teenager who took his own life, the play aims to give voice to those silenced by shame, dogma, and familial denial. It doesn’t offer easy answers, but instead invites its audience to witness the unbearable cost of being unheard.

At the heart of the story is Ari Freed, a teenager grappling with his sexuality in a household that cannot bear to acknowledge it. Through his monologues and interactions, we see the inner life of a young boy and man who simply wants to be heard and loved for who he is.

Sammy, Ari’s role model and emotional tether, appears early on, though his presence is initially jarring. Lacking context or introduction, his sudden appearance feels more disruptive than dramatic. However, as the story progresses, Sammy’s fierce advocacy and powerful speeches become a necessary disruption. His role becomes one of emotional accountability, commanding the family (and audience) to listen. Perhaps he is modelled on the playwright himself.

Ari’s mother (played by Clara Francis) is a complex figure portrayed with quiet anguish. Described by Ari as a lioness, she occasionally flashes her claws but ultimately retreats to her cage. Her inability to defend her son from her husband’s homophobia is painful to watch, made even more poignant by Braun’s script, which suggests the mother, too, is a victim of a culture that silences.

Though the play often references the sheer size of Ari’s family (eleven children), none of his siblings appear on stage, leaving a noticeable gap. A simple soundscape (e.g. a baby crying offstage, distant footsteps, muffled voices) could have added texture to this missing dynamic.

Faygele ultimately gives voice to those who never got the chance to speak. It’s a play about what happens when love is conditional, faith is weaponised, and listening comes too late. In its best moments, it is haunting, necessary, and full of aching truth.

Faygele is running at Marylebone Theatre until Saturday 31 May.

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Photo Credit: Jane Hobson