Thanks to Theatre PANIK, Toronto finally has the chance to see My Name Is Rachel Corrie (2005), a play that has already been staged in London, New York, Edmonton, Israel and Palestine. Canadian Stage Company announced and then withdrew plans to stage it in 2006 when a former board member claimed it would be “offensive to Jews.” The play, however, edited from the diaries and e-mails of Rachel Corrie (1979-2003), is not an anti-Israel propaganda piece, but rather the story of a creative, idealistic young woman whose destiny happens to take her to the Gaza strip.

Corrie had joined the International Solidarity Movement and was trained in non-violent resistance to be used against the Israeli Defence Forces’ programme of demolishing wells and houses in Gaza. She was killed when she placed herself between and an armoured bulldozer and a house and was crushed by the advancing bulldozer. The fact that she was an American drew worldwide attention to the case. The fact that she had always wanted to be a writer and had left behind such a well-documented life drew actor Alan Rickamn and journalist Katharine Viner to her story. Her words are poetic, trenchant and witty until toward the end when despair over the human condition dominates her thoughts. We see this child of complacent neo-liberal parents grow up in the safety of Olympia, Washington, doing what she can to help the disadvantaged of her area but uncomfortable that her privileged life as a white American cuts her off from the realities of the larger world. The first half of the 90-minute play establishes Corrie as a vital young woman of unfocussed energies who feels that all people should feel safe and who wants to do some good in the world. In the second half we see Corrie’s view gradually shift from the exhilaration of adventure to an increasingly bleak vision of human nature.

Bethany Jillard gives an outstanding performance in the role. Before our eyes we see her grow from the uncomplicated joys and fantasies of childhood through teenaged confusion to her stint with the ISM where the unrelenting, unmitigated suffering of others begins to age her. Jillard’s Corrie is so engaging we feel pain to see her hope snuffed out. Kate Lushington’s mininalist production, with a mattress representing everything from a bed to a wall, makes good use of Cameron Davis’s video projections, though they are not really necessary, and too much use of John Gzowski’s sound design which is often intrusive. By the end we have to wonder why we encourage or even fetishize idealism in children only to be shocked when they later decide to put it in action. We also have to wonder what kind of world we have created that so easily destroys it.