‘Geist’ doesn’t dig deep enough into the measure of a man

You can't help but be moved by “Geist,” the current production from Playwrights' Round Table. Only the most heartless would fail to be affected by any story detailing the struggle of German Jews to immigrate to America as Hitler destroys their civil liberties.

But “Geist,” by Central Florida playwright David Strauss, stirs emotions primarily in the academic sense. As directed by Hilary Cooperman, it doesn't connect as it might on a personal level.

At the center of story are real-life the diplomats at the U.S. embassy in Berlin: William Dodd, George Messersmith and Raymond Geist, who gives the play its name. Geist was responsible for issuing immigration visas — but the law at the time made it very difficult for desperate Jews to meet the criteria.

Frustratingly for a play that bears his name, by the end Geist is still somewhat of an enigma. As played by Mark J. Richman, it's often difficult to gauge how he really feels about his actions — or lack thereof.

Another flaw in the play's construction: While you would expect the tension to constantly build as the situation becomes

‘Geist’

■ Length: 2:25, including intermission

■ Where: Lowndes Shakespeare Center, 812 E. Rollins St., Orlando

■ When: 3 p.m. today

■ Cost: $15-$18 at the door

■ Info: ThePRT.com

more and more dire for Germany's Jews, instead the drama becomes talky and flat for long stretches.

Playing a feisty Jewish journalist, Sara Jones delightfully brightens every scene in which she appears. Her character of Bella Fromm feels the most fully formed. Brianna Barrett and James Blaisdell also do good characterization work. She's the ambassador's extroverted daughter with her head in the sand; he's the young head of the Nazis' Gestapo. Blaisdell in particular has a way of showing how ordinary Germans could participate in monstrous actions while convincing themselves they were still good people.

Sometimes the dialogue is a bit much. Blaisdell's Gestapo leader doesn't even flinch when Barrett's party girl flirtatiously tells him: “You know, some people call you the prince of darkness.”

Other Jews' plights are depicted but those characters aren't onstage enough to be much more than anecdotes, even in their tragedy. Of these minor characters, Anthony Marando makes the strongest impression as a quiet man unaware of his Jewish heritage who clings to the hope that being a “good German” will save him.

The play is framed by Geist asking himself if he could have done more to help these poor Jews. It's a question to which history has already provided the answer: Yes. Not only Geist, but the world could have — and should have — done much more.