Anyone who survived the Holocaust has a story that can only be described as extraordinary. Now imagine the tale of a woman who survived not only the Holocaust but nearly the entire 20th century.

"I'm 80 years old," Rose says by way of introducing herself and Martin Sherman's one- woman memory play of the same name. "I find that unforgivable. Suddenly it's the millennium, and I stink of the past century. But what can I do?"

Sherman, nominated for a Tony Award on Monday for writing the book to "The Boy From Oz," is best-known for his searing "Bent," about persecution of gays during World War II. But here he is perhaps a bit too enamored with his fictional heroine to deliver a work of equal magnitude.

It's not that his account isn't epic. If anything, it's too epic. Rose was born in a Ukrainian village, survived the Holocaust by living for two years in Warsaw's sewers, lost a husband and 9-year-old daughter to the Nazis, only to be tear-gassed trying to enter the Holy Land and whisked off by an impulsive American sailor to Atlantic City, N.J., where she became a kosher hotelier. Throw in time spent on a Connecticut hippie commune, an Israeli settlement on the West Bank and a stint in the Arizona desert before Rose finally retires to Miami.

The story stirs the events of the century and the Sherman family into what the writer calls "an autobiographical blender." Sherman's account becomes too meandering and bloated to allow him to fully scour the emotional depth and consequence of this singular European-American life.

Rose is the kind of role that veteran actor Deborah Persoff devours like so many kosher dill pickles. She and Rose are a perfect fit: A larger-than-life actress in a larger-than-life role. Her utterly sincere portrayal for Everyman Theatre Company is mostly heroic, filled with lovely moments of tenderness, heartache and gentle humor.

Persoff is an enthralling

storyteller who makes the way Rose interprets her memories just as fascinating to hear as the exact details of her life. But this demanding script requires its star to completely disappear into the role. Persoff is exceptional but not totally present in every moment, which is the shortcoming of director Richard H. Pegg. For one, her Rose is neither 80 in demeanor nor debilitation.

And there are points in the script that should be absolutely unbearable. At those moments preciousness tends to win out over power. It's hard to reconcile the moxie of the girl who survived in the Warsaw sewers with the delicate flower on stage.

The play opens on a Miami park bench, where "Rose" is again sitting Shiva. Throughout her life, Rose has mourned loved ones who have died younger than God or man should have ever allowed. Today's Shiva may as well be for the century just passed.

Rose calls herself an agnostic but possesses more of the spirit of what it means to be a Jew than those who wear their faith in their holsters. She is horrified by her daughter-in-law, a converted Jew who celebrates the Israeli massacre of enemy worshippers in a mosque.

"We are supposed to be better than that," Rose says. "We are supposed to carry a moral light unto the world."

Rose will forever be an outsider in this world, but no matter how much she endures and many years she lives, she can no more deny her Jewishness than she can the DNA in her bones.

"Rose"


Theater critic John Moore can be reached at 303-820-1056 or jmoore@denverpost.com .