Hirsch @ Pleasance Courtyard

Biographical narratives are usually centred on icons of modern culture, with recipients of movie biopics – Thatcher, Jobs, Cash – tending to be globally recognised celebrities. It’s fresh then to be dipped into the life of somebody one knows very little about. This one-man show gives a potted, yet incredibly impassioned, account of the life of Hungarian-Canadian theatre director John Hirsch, from his survival from the Nazis as a child to his accomplishments as a dramatist.

Opening at Hirsch’s death, the narrative is a little fractured, flitting between childhood and adulthood, Hungary and Canada, and made all the more perplexing by the lack of differentiation in costume. This makes the beginning a tad confusing. Once settled into the production’s format, however, Alon Nashman’s continual morphing between the thickly accented and frenetic gesturing Hirsch and the litany of individuals whom accost him is mesmerising. Even when the story’s pace drops (the subject matter is at times quite distressing) Nashman’s borderline caricature commitment to his characters gives the eulogy-type recount some much appreciated comic zing. Aided by a bare minimum of props and a single multi-function cart as a set, the power of this performance comes from Nashman’s obvious veneration of Hirsch, despite his more unsavoury qualities.