Blonde Poison

A beautiful blonde-haired, blue-eyed Jewish woman gets the opportunity mid-WWII to save herself and her beloved parents from extermination. The catch? Send fellow Jews to the concentration camps in her place. She was called Blonde Poison because Stella Goldschlag had the kiss of death. She stalked the streets of Germany to rat on her own friends, colleagues and neighbours.

This chilling real-life theatrical adaptation of journalist Peter Wyden’s memoirs packs a moral dilemma punch. Must we save ourselves at all costs? Are hundreds of Jewish lives worth our own? Can such morality be applied in war when the real enemy is the army giving such ultimatums? Life or death?

Gail Louw’s play is gentle but firm in its enquiry. The audience get unlimited access into Goldschlag’s haunted mind as she sifts through her life’s memories. We see a youth with unbridled adoration for her parents, a young woman passionately in love with her colleague, a lady forced into unthinkable conundrums by a hate-filled war.

A striking moment in the play has Goldschlag exhausted in her self-loathing, justifying that she only had this choice because she was beautiful. She caught the eye of her enemy and rather than a swift death, they capitalised on her looks to use as a weapon. Her beauty – something she was born with – saved her, and she was condemned all her life for it. There are no black and whites in this tale. Judgment is hard to come by, and for this, Louw succeeds in painting a chilling but colourful portrait of a tortured woman.

The 90 minute show lags only slightly and could benefit from a 20 or so minute edit to keep the play chugging along at a quicker pace, but this Old Fitz production is a fine piece of art. Belinda Giblin under the direction of Jennifer Hagan presents a detailed, stylised and engaging portrait of Stella Goldschlag. The casting is spot on as Giblin looks the part to a tee and her emotional life is rich and bubbling under the surface of Goldschlag’s beautiful veneer. Lighting by Matthew Tunchon and sound by Jeremy Silver are effective when used but more variation in the quieter moments could help keep the audience’s mind energised in the longer passages of narration.

A captivating one-woman show of a thrilling, real-life story. Truth is so often stranger and juicer than fiction.

Maryann Wright

Photographer: Marnya Rothe