Stoppard’s sweeping family drama ‘Leopoldstadt’ dazzles at Writers Theatre

“Leopoldstadt” — 4 stars

If Writers Theatre ever joins the ranks of Regional Theatre Tony Award winners, its bravura Midwest premiere of “Leopoldstadt” will have played a role in that honor.

The Glencoe theater, which the late Wall Street Journal theater critic Terry Teachout named “the best regional drama company in America,” established its bona fides with such standout productions as “Natasha, Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812,” “The Dance of Death,” “A Streetcar Named Desire,” “Crime and Punishment” and, my personal favorite, “Once.”

Now comes Writers’ latest triumph: the impeccably executed “Leopoldstadt,” the final masterwork by Tom Stoppard, who died in 2025 at 88.

Warmer and less aloof than his earlier plays, Stoppard’s sprawling, semiautobiographical drama is a moving meditation on Jewish identity and legacy, memory and the systemic antisemitism that not even the most fervent commitment to assimilation — up to and including religious conversion — can overcome.

Staged with compassion and clarity by longtime collaborator Carey Perloff, “Leopoldstadt” spans more than 50 years and centers on an extended Jewish family — one that includes several Christians — living in Vienna between 1899 and 1955.

Twenty-seven characters — most of them members of two intermarried families, along with housekeepers and nannies, colleagues and lovers — populate the play, whose title refers to Vienna’s historically Jewish neighborhood.

We meet members of this cultured, wealthy family in 1899 during a holiday celebration at the home of textile factory owner Hermann Merz (Ian Barford, whose Writers debut marks his third stellar performance in 18 months), a self-described “Christian of Jewish descent” who converted to marry Gretl, an upper-crust Catholic socialite played by Kate Fry with a combination of warmth and wonder.

They’re joined by Hermann’s imposing mother Emilia Merz (played with wry wit by Barbara Robertson), her daughter Eva Jakobovicz (Emma Rosenthal) and Eva’s scholar husband, Ludwig (a quietly decent Joey Slotnick), who seeks mathematical order amid civil chaos. Ludwig’s sisters Wilma (Sarah Coakley Price) and 18-year-old Hanna (Brennan Stacker) are present, along with Ernst (a deeply humane Sean Fortunato), Wilma’s Protestant physician husband and a half dozen young children.

While the adults discuss Sigmund Freud’s dream theory, the possibility of a Jewish state and a scandalous new play by Arthur Schnitzler, Emilia explains Jewish traditions to the non-Jews she affectionately calls “Papists” and the children decorate a Christmas tree topped (briefly) by a Star of David.

By 1924, the children we met at the turn of the century are now adults: wounded World War I veteran Jacob (Sam Bell-Gurwitz), son of Hermann and Gretl; Wilma and Ernst’s fraternal twins Rosa (Jessie Fisher) and Sally (Grainne Ortlieb); and Sally’s husband, Zac (Justin Albinder).

By 1938, the Anschluss and the rise of fascism have made the country’s systemic antisemitism — which Barford’s Hermann long denied and Slotnick’s Ludwig knew existed — impossible to ignore.

The devastating consequences — on people stripped of their property, careers and dignity — become clear in a scene defined by calculated terror where a Nazi official (Andrew Mueller) forces the family from their home.

“Leopoldstadt” concludes in 1955 with Leo (Bell-Gurwitz again), Stoppard’s alter-ego of sorts — the playwright didn’t learn the full extent of his Jewish heritage until his 50s — confronting the identity he ignored for 17 years. A heartrending recitation of the fate his relatives suffered follows.

Memory, a theme that underscores the play, looms large in this scene. Emilia references its significance early in the play while recalling the identities of people depicted in family photos.

“You don’t realize how fast they’re disappearing from being remembered,” she says. “It’s like a second death, to lose your name in a family album.”

Leo comes to understand that as he wrestles with his family legacy and the obligation he and fellow Holocaust survivors have to preserve it.

Stoppard and Perloff tweaked his 2020 play to accommodate Writers, whose accomplished 24-person cast is the largest in its history. At $1.2 million, “Leopoldstadt” is also its most expensive production, evidenced by Alex Jaeger’s sumptuous period costumes and Ken MacDonald’s tastefully elegant set. A large dining table dominates the Merz’s stately parlor with its plush furniture and book-filled shelves.

In the second act, the shelves are bare, a single bulb has replaced the chandelier and the large table is gone, replaced by two smaller ones, a reflection of absent loved ones and diminished status. Jane Shaw’s sound design, including a harrowing Kristallnacht re-creation, also deserves mention.

With actors playing multiple family members across multiple generations, “Leopoldstadt” can be confusing. The program’s family tree helps. (I referred to it frequently during the show’s nearly three-hour running time.)

Not every character is as well-defined, understandable when more than two dozen compete for attention. But Perloff’s actors infuse them with humor and decency, making “Leopoldstadt's” hard truths all the more wrenching.

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Location: Writers Theatre, 325 Tudor Court, Glencoe, (847) 242-6000, writerstheatre.org

Showtimes: 2 and 7:30 p.m. Wednesday and Saturday; 7:30 p.m. Thursday and Friday; and 2 and 7 p.m. Sunday through Aug. 16

Tickets: $70-$130

Running time: About 2 hours, 45 minutes, with intermission

Parking: On the street

Rating: For teens and older; references the Holocaust; adult content