“Based on a true story about a trio of young female Dutch resistance fighters during the Second World War, this highly relevant piece-in-progress is a mighty mix of parallels to the Book of Judith and enough gunfire to rival some classic Westerns.”
When I first learned that Hitler was a big fan of Mother’s Day – even making it an official German holiday in support of his idea for an “Aryan motherhood cult” – I was tickled. Perhaps I’m wrong, but, to me, this just proves that Hitler was terrified of women. For all his experience with highly organized destruction, he knew he couldn’t touch the true power of creation – hence his imaginative reclamation of Mother’s Day. As I watched this staged reading of The Moss Maidens at The Drayton Arms Theatre on Hitler’s favorite holiday, however, I wondered: Did he know that women were equally good at highly organized destruction?
The Moss Maidens, written and directed by NYC based artist S. Dylan Zwickel, enjoyed its UK premiere this week after a lauded run at the SheNYC Festival last summer. In her interview with A Youngish Perspective, Zwickel discusses her inspiration for writing this play (which is currently being optioned for a feature film). She came across a true story of a trio of Dutch resistance fighters – two sisters and a university friend – who used their unsuspecting identities as “harmless” young women to kill Nazis and their local Dutch collaborators.
Zwickel’s version – which doubles the size of the group and dramatizes the liberation of rage and sexual expression they experience alongside their covert operation – also strongly echoes the Book of Judith, which recounts the story of the Jewish widow who seduces the general of an invading Assyrian army only to behead him and save Jerusalem.
The Moss Maidens takes a juicy bite into an uncelebrated yet deeply pertinent chapter of World War II history. The sheer scope of that tantalizing bite, however, sometimes overwhelms itself with information and muddies a story that could benefit from picking out the blander expository bits in favor of revelatory dramatic action. At this stage in this piece’s journey, though, it’s not surprising that it feels like it’s trying to fit everything in – the story behind it is just that good.
Notably told from a non-Jewish perspective – that of occupied Dutch citizens in 1940 – the story resonates clearly with present-day conversations about anti-semitism, occupation, and fascism. At its glittering core, The Moss Maidens is about ordinary people, born with the privilege of passing as Nazi supporters, but who nonetheless choose to act on behalf of others whose basic human rights are threatened. In a world in which “resistance” is constantly being redefined, judged, cancelled, and otherwise ignored, this piece masterfully connects the dots between the past and the present.
Behind this powerful story was an equally powerful cast. Capucine Earle (Floor) – leaning on her costar’s shoulder, sleuthing around to lick people’s elbows – brought a brilliant physicality and playful effervescence to the staged piece, letting her character inhabit more of the Drayton Arms stage than the page on her music stand. Katherine Lyle (Mirjam) and Beth Organ (Rini) also took the words right off the page as they explored their characters’ budding relationship. Actors Josselyn Ryder (Silke), Caitlyn Calfas (Helena), and Claire Adams (Isa) each took their turns at making bold, inquisitive, and embodied choices with their characters, ultimately weaving together an ensemble of palpably distinct women and blowing the dust off this tasty morsel of uncelebrated history.
Staged readings, of course, are limited in what they can achieve, but one of the main areas this piece could explore more in future iterations is that of creating and maintaining narrative tension.
For one, information seemed to be shared willy-nilly between characters. In a world in which information could mean life or death, it was jarring to hear Mirjam, in her very first exchange with Rini, admit to hiding Jews. If her goal was to use that information to get closer to Rini, that was not clear and felt like it was only stated to forward the plot. Part of the magic of theatre is that one’s audience usually knows something about which not all the characters are aware. Tension is built and released as the truth gets closer to the surface. And information, especially in the context of the Nazi regime, almost always comes at a price. Instead of letting the characters constantly show their cards, the piece could lean far more into its infinite opportunities for secret-keeping in order to create engaging tension.
Other moments like this – in which the characters are used more to regurgitate narrative bullet points rather than embodying living, breathing beings who want things from each other – abounded, specifically in the development of Floor’s character. When Floor is described (in her presence) as “only half-Jewish,” there is a dull silence before they all move on. This rich opportunity to explore the girl’s relationship to the only Jewish person they know is shockingly left untouched and almost treated as taboo, something not worth unpacking. The question then stands: Why would any of them go to the lengths they do to protect Jews if they cannot openly interface with Floor’s Jewish heritage?
As with any dramatized history of the Second World War, The Moss Maidens certainly has its work cut out for it. But it nevertheless resoundingly succeeds at bringing critical awareness to a mind-bogglingly true story. If one of Hitler’s aims was to confiscate and reappropriate the power of women, this piece – and the heroic team of women at its core – grabs it right back.