Beast on the Moon
Reminiscent in theme and symbolic subtlety of Arthur Miller’s Broken Glass, a heavy-handed drama of emotional and physical paralysis in the face of the Holocaust, Beast on the Moon addresses the plight of Armenian immigrants who survived a Turkish-led attack in 1915 (Kalinoski claims that Hitler used the Armenian genocide as a model for the Holocaust). Set in 1920s Milwaukee, the play takes its title from a historical incident in which Turks allegedly tried to shoot the “beast” that was blocking the moon during a lunar eclipse, then turned their rifles on their Armenian neighbors. For Aram Tomasian, a portrait photographer, and his sweet, bubbly mail-order bride Seta, the beast is also a symbol for the horrors they endured in Armenia, beyond which they cannot move. Their futile efforts to have children and overcome their past are related by an old man named Vincent who came into the Tomasians’ life as a young, impish delinquent and became their surrogate son.
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More disappointing is Kalinoski’s refusal to confront psychological issues not explained by Aram and Seta’s dismal past. Presumably Kalinoski, in trying to be respectful of the little-known tragedy of Armenia, chose to sidestep any controversy that might have made his play deeper or more resonant. The author hints at but never has the nerve to follow through on a potentially jarring, twisted direction as the emotionally frustrated Seta sublimates her maternal urges by feeding and bathing poor neighborhood boys. Instead of using this element to give Seta an ironic edge, Kalinoski offers it as further proof of her angelic qualities. When the young ruffian Vincent enters the Tomasians’ lives and incites an argument between them, one suspects that Beast on the Moon might veer into another peculiar direction. But again Kalinoski uses the incident only to introduce the expected revelations, leading to an effective two-hankie denouement that’s somehow too neat and predictable.
