Timothy Daly's play "The Man in the Attic" sprang from the true story of a Jewish man hidden by a German couple during World War II; his saviors became captors later by not telling him when the war ended.
Daly's chewy script -- which won him Australia's most prestigious award for a new play -- takes the indignity deception to its logical conclusion as ordinary people shed their humanity in the name of survival. (Playwright Daly, a native Australian, is not to be confused with the actor on "The Sopranos" and "Private Practice" and other television shows.)
This month's North American premier of the play at Out North gets good mileage from its simple but symbolically rich set by Doug Frank. Like a house without an outer wall, the two-story structure creates unbearable intimacy and insurmountable distance at the same time.
As the Jewish man (Jeff McCamish) grapples for hope in the attic above, the German couple labors over their moral choices below. Of the two, the man played by Steve Hunt suffers the lesser fate, for he shrugs off his vile acts as a product of the times. (Does the Patriot Act come to mind?)
His wife (Veronica Page) knows otherwise, even as she cows to those around her. The normally vibrant Page does a good job appearing nervous, plain, mousy and conflicted.
As her partner in crime, Hunt all but basks in his awfulness by sleeping with the neighbor, sniggering as lies get told and endlessly extending his guest's solitary confinement upstairs.
Meanwhile, a character called "speaker" tosses out useful facts, comments on the characters and intervenes to move the story along. Here, Bernie Blaine's confident, decisive and authoritative voice introduces a fifth character who takes on multiple perspective whether through the voice of reason, the voice of inquiry or the voice of judgment.
Shouting out things like "It was a war, after all" and "He is only a Jew," even the speaker appears complicit and soiled.
Only the man in the attic escapes the moral vacuum around him. Though anguished, doubtful and even hopeless at times, McCamish plays the Jewish man with earnest humility.
Believe it or not, this is where the play lags. The characters grow too singular in their rendering -- the handwringing wife too nervous, the licentious husband too charismatic, the ambitious neighbor too blunt. The emotional potential of the story shrinks as the characters lose complexity.
Not that the play lacks emotional or intellectual purpose. Clearly the sorrow of human beings losing the illusion of glory, of fortitude, of humanity, exacts a price, even on those watching from afar whether through time or place.
Some of the more poignant moments take place when the man and woman make distinct observations about the nature of survival. The man claims to have learned that only the animals survive, by which he means humans willing to act on their impulses. His wife sees it differently, proclaiming that the weak survive by hiding out and waiting.
But what about the man in the attic? Does he survive on lies? Misplaced gratitude? Unwarranted hope? I would love to have heard him speak for himself through the able hand of the playwright, who knows the value of coupling compelling language with the visual field of theater.
Whatever my wishes, "Man in the Attic" offers thoughtful and engaging theater through a solid cast, smart staging, able direction by Dick Reichman and a powerful script by the playwright who wrote "Kafka Dances."
Dawnell Smith lives and writes in Anchorage.
By DAWNELL SMITH
Daily News Correspondent