Although Syria is in the headlines seemingly more so now than ever—thanks to misguided White House foreign policy decisions—the stories of individuals affected by explosive geopolitics aren’t usually foremost in the widespread news coverage.
With Power Strip playwright Sylvia Khoury has decided to focus on one of those stories, presumably fictitious but perhaps not entirely unlike any number of histories eventuated by current events. Directed by Tyne Rafaeli on set designer Arnulfo Maldonado’s strip of barren and partially isolated land, Khoury introduces Yasmin (Dina Shihabi), a Syrian refugee from Damascus living as best she can on the Greek island of Lesbos while expecting to be transferred to Germany and Munich.
Existing by her wits and a power strip enabling her to keep an electric heater operating, she deals with interlopers when not recalling a thwarted marriage to Peter (Ali Lopez-Sohaili). The most prominent intruder is Khaled (Darius Homayoun), who she meets decidedly uncute when he attempts to steal her heater while she’s uncomfortably slumbering in the crook of a dirt wall. Awakening while he’s at his theft, she fights him and slices his hand with a knife she has at the ready.
A young woman of many talents, she also has suturing apparatus among her effects and the savvy to know how to put it to use. She does this for Khaled after informing him that were he to seek professional medical help elsewhere on Lesbos, he’d have hours-long waits.
Despite their initial confrontation, Yasmin and Khaled begin a friendship that looks as if it will become a long-term romance. That’s a development Khaled certainly favors as Yasmin shows him kindnesses that include insisting he take money she’s accumulated so his diabetic mother can obtain the insulin she needs. Though Khaled’s mother is often discussed, she’s never seen. Neither is Yasmin’s father, who is apparently somewhere nearby and often visited.
The growing Yasmin-Khaled affair does hit an obstacle when about two-thirds of the way through the often volatile action she reveals the source of her unexpectedly ample money supply. (She secures it in a wallet around her waist.) Briefly alienating Khaled by the argument that she’s prepared to do anything to survive, she then meets with refugee Abdullah (Peter Ganim), a lawyer in worn brown suit mourning his wife and disposed to avail himself of Yasmin’s company. It’s another encounter with a surprising outcome.
Khoury—who besides writing plays is a fourth-year student at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai (isn’t that time-consuming enough?)—deserves thanks for putting her author’s hand where her heart obviously is. She accomplishes much in the 90 minutes she’s allotted herself, but she does need more time to fill out a situation that too frequently remains sketchy.
In Yasmin, she’s imagined a protagonist with abundant strengths. Not quite enough, though. How has Yasmin acquired them? Khaled assumes she’s a nurse, but she denies that. Is he right? Is she holding back, and if so, why? Ex-fiancé Peter’s withdrawal from her could also use further exploration. Khoury never gets around to saying what differences and difficulties keep Yasmin and her father apart. The cause(s) of their disaffection is worth knowing. Is he perhaps a character cut from an earlier draft? If so, should he be restored?
Then there’s Khoury’s ending. Yasmin gives the impression that she’s ready to marry Khaled. He’s convinced, but then she looks to be changing her mind. She explains why, but the explanation is truncated, not persuasive. Furthermore, the subsequent denouement feels appended and abrupt. (It took a moment or two for the audience with which I sat to realize Power Strip had just concluded.)
The cast—dressed by Dede Ayite, well lighted by Jen Schriever and with Matt Hubbs’ properly jolting sounds—does right by the script. Shihabi is, of course, first and foremost. There isn’t a single moment for patrons to doubt that her Yasmin isn’t capable of everything she does, everything she says she can do and anything an observer wonders if she can do. (Incidentally, Lisa Kopitsky is the fight director.) The male ensemble members are every gesture and word up to snuff.
As the audience exits, it may be that the script lapses aren’t what’s occupying their thoughts. Likelier, it’s Khoury’s getting up-close-and personal with one of the thousands of refugees now unfortunately populating the Middle East and regions farther afield. It may even be that one or two departing patrons are asking themselves if Khoury or another intrepid playwright is zeroing in right now on an ethnically-cleansed Kurd.
Power Strip opened October 21, 2019, at the Claire Tow Theater and runs through November 17. Tickets and information: lct.org
