Our Class Comes to Boston: Why This Moment Matters

We're bringing Our Class to Boston this June. This isn't just another play we're staging—it's something much more urgent, something that speaks directly to our world today.

I first read Tadeusz Słobodzianek's masterpiece six or seven years ago and was immediately drawn to it. There was something about this play that felt like an essential dialogue with our moment. And now, with everything happening around us, its urgency has only intensified.

Not About the Past, But What Will Happen

I don't believe in teaching lessons of the past. These lessons rarely work—if they did, we wouldn't be in today's world. This play isn't about historical events; it's about what's going to happen with people like us. That's why our actors appear in contemporary clothes, why they move fluidly between portraying children and adults.

What frightens me is the certainty that these events will happen again. The history of antisemitism hasn't disappeared—it's merely sleeping. And as soon as difficult events occur, this hatred awakens. It's a light sleeper.

The Tragedy Lives in the Mundane

Our Class follows ten classmates from the 1920s through the late 80s—half Polish Catholic, half Jewish—living in the small town of Jedwabne. Based on true events, we witness them play together, study together, fall in love, and play soccer—all the ordinary activities of childhood.

Then war arrives, and the light sleeper of hate awakens.

In America, we're accustomed to stories about evil Nazis committing atrocities. We compartmentalize: bad people do bad things. But this play reveals these events differently—these perpetrators are ordinary people just like us. That's what makes it so vital. The play challenges us to question our certainties about good and evil, pushing us toward empathy rather than judgment.

Bringing Our Class to Boston

The Wall Street Journal called this production "an epic and intimate drama, stark and uncompromising" and included it in their "Best Theater of 2024" list. The production received Drama Desk, Drama League, and Outer Critics Circle nominations. But accolades aren't why I'm bringing it to Boston.

I'm thrilled that Chulpan Khamatova will be joining our cast. She's an international superstar—one of Russia's greatest actresses who left after the war began. She'll play Rachelka/Marianna, and in her words, she wants to "speak loudly about what happens to people when they are overwhelmed by hatred and war."

Our extraordinary ensemble—featuring actors from Ukraine, Russia, Boston, and New York—creates something that transcends borders and brings cultures together. This is theater at its most essential.

How Do We Tell Such a Dark Story?

Most of us aren't masochists—we don't seek out terrible experiences. But awful things happen in life, and we often respond with humor or lightness as a way to survive. We find ways to move forward.

The saddest events are sometimes told through jokes because vulnerability is so difficult. There's profound humanity in this response. All the characters in Our Class want happiness, and they pursue it even amid darkness. That's why the play contains surprising moments of humor.

In rehearsal, we've created what I call a "Zero Gravity Laboratory"—a space where conventional boundaries dissolve. We employ chalk drawings, movement, and music by Oscar-winner Anna Drubich to create a world where beauty and horror coexist. We find moments of unexpected laughter because that's what humans do—we search for light even in the darkest places.

What Happens After the Show

Having two children—Jacob and Esther—I constantly question how they will live in this world. How do we continue to coexist?

What moves me most about the New York performances was watching audiences afterward. They didn't rush to leave; they sat silently, needing time to process. Though the ending contains lightness and hope, something profound had shifted within them.

At BAM, ushers struggled to clear the theater after each performance. When audiences finally left, they gathered outside—some smoking, some talking, some silent. Something had happened inside that space that demanded reflection. I don't know exactly what each person experienced, but I recognized that the play had touched something essential.

It wasn't just a story about people who lived decades ago—it had become something immediate and personal. That's the theater I believe in.

Please join us June 13-22 at the Calderwood Pavilion. Our opening gala is June 14, with a special celebration afterward. Just eleven performances. I truly hope you'll be there.

Igor Golyak
March, 2025

Tickets available through BostonTheatreScene.com