In Tom Stoppard’s Leopoldstadt, the great playwright finally mourns his own lost Jewish past
A terrible lost opportunity to draw the only possible conclusion: that there is no place on this earth for the Jew but Israel
it reminds me in some way of the fate of the great Parisian banking families- the Camondos, Reinach et al , some of whom believed until the end that due to their embrace of French secularism and their wealth, that they would avoid the fate of the masses. Tragically that was not the case and their end was the same as the rest..up the chimney.
The first two hours of LEOPOLDSTADT are the necessary yet disposable achievement in preparation for the last scene, artistic calisthenics for the play playwright Stoppard aimed to write. Another recounting of the Holocaust culminating in a litany of death camps is, yes, a feat of stagecraft, yes, a vital reminder for a forgetting world, and yes, the work of a master, but not a masterpiece and not new. Where does Leonard Chamberlain (!) go from here? Good first scene for a play.