"A House Is Not a Home"
One of the more distinct dramatic patterns over the past few
years depicts the immigrant experience in America as told from the viewpoints
of infrequently explored communities. Africa, Asia, and the Middle East have increasingly
become part of the pattern, the newest example being Heather Raffo’s Noura, a sensitive but only passably successful work directed
by Joanna Settle at Playwrights Horizons following its world premiere at
Washington D.C.’s Shakespeare Theatre Company. The work’s uniqueness lies in its
portrayal of a Christian family that fled war-ravaged, Muslim-dominated Iraq to
make a better life on these shores.  |
| Heather Raffo. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
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| Liam Camporo, Matthew David. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
Raffo (Nine Parts of Desire) is an American of Iraqi descent (her father's from Mosul). Almost all of her Chaldean relatives have left Iraq, where their community has practically vanished. She began developing her material
in workshops she held with Arab-American women in New York. These helped refine
the principal dilemma of Noura, whose title is the Iraqi name of a
woman (played by Raffo herself) who, when she becomes an American citizen,
changes it to Nora. That name’s connection to Ibsen’s A Doll’s House is very much intended although Noura is in no way a direct adaptation of that play to modern circumstances.
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| Nabil Elouahabi, Heather Raffo. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
The highly educated Noura, costumed by Tilly Grimes in tight
black pants, loose blouses, and an occasional shawl, and Tareq (Nabil Elouahabi)—now Tim—live
in New York. They’ve just received their American citizenship and passports,
after eight years. She’s from Mosul, he’s from Baghdad. He’s a former surgeon
who worked at a Subway sandwich shop before getting employment as an E.R.
doctor (his shaky hands prevent his doing surgery); she’s a trained architect who
works as a teacher. Tareq strongly wishes to leave the past behind and assimilate,
Noura’s worried about losing her connection to her tragic nation’s past and its
traditions.
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| Dahlia Azama, Nabil Elouahabi, Heather Raffo, Liam Campora, Matthew David. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
They have an adolescent son, Yazen, called Alex (Liam
Campora), who loves playing PlayStation, although its violence disturbs his
mother even though she carried a gun in Iraq. Their closest friend is another
refugee, a Muslim obstetrician named Rafa’a (Matthew David), whose admiration
for Noura suggests Ibsen’s Dr. Rank. The final character is a sharply
independent woman in her mid-20s named Maryam (Dahlia Azama). She’s an orphan
raised by nuns in Mosul, who, thanks to Noura’s sponsorship, is studying physics
at Stanford and will soon be writing weapons contracts for the Department of
Defense.
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| Nabit Elouahabi, Liam Camporo, Heather Raffo, Matthew David. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
It’s Christmas Eve, Noura’s been preparing Iraqi food for
weeks, and she hopes for a joyful gathering with her family, Rafa’a, and Maryam,
whom she’s just met for the first time. But Maryam’s six-months pregnant, the
result of a deliberate decision to have a child. The father was a tool, not meant
to be a parent. Does the nun-raised Maryam’s appearance at Christmas in her
condition have some allusive religious meaning?
When Tareq learns she’s pregnant, he refers to her as a slut
and tells Noura not to provide her with any more support. His unexpected
reaction reveals how much he remains immersed in his cultural background, even
as he desperately seeks to Americanize. The situation thus serves both to motivate
what little conflict the play generates and offer a way to examine underlying
emotional and social issues.
As the frequently torpid 90-minute evening proceeds, the tension
gradually tightens. Sexual and romantic secrets are spilled, attitudes toward ISIS
and Iraq are aired, the contrast between living in America and Iraq is discussed,
the importance of retaining one’s roots is expressed, motherhood becomes thematically
urgent, and a big reveal—seen coming miles away—opens wounds in Tareq and Noura’s
relationship. Raffo’s dialogue is sometimes straightforward and natural,
sometimes elusively vague and pseudo-poetic. While there are moments of insight
and human warmth, too many others feel contrived and artificial.
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| Liam Campora, Heather Raffo. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
Those looking for correspondences to Ibsen’s play will have
to look closely since very few are apparent; don’t wait for a door to slam. One
example is Noura’s sneaking cigarettes instead of macaroons behind her husband’s
back. (Disappointingly, Raffo, like so many actors today, looks
like she’d sooner be dodging terrorists in Mosul than puffing on an herbal cigarette, when they even know how to hold one.)
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| Heather Raffo, Nabit Elouahabi. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
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| Heather Raffo, Nabit Elouahabi. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
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| Heather Raffo. Photo: Joan Marcus. |
Raffo, outstanding, leads a company of excellent actors, all of whom serve
the material well. But Noura’s
significance resides mainly in its presentation of well-trodden but powerful tropes
regarding immigrants and assimilation embedded within a world that, for all its
initial unfamiliarity, turns out to be pretty familiar after all.
OTHER VIEWPOINTS:
Playwrights Horizons
416 W. 42nd St., NYC
Through December 30
