Oscar Wilde once said “Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us.” For Leo Gold, that diary is filled with an anguish that has haunted his memories and greatly impacted his life. Battling with Alzheimer’s and the recent death of his wife, retired statistician Leo Gold attempts to unravel the pain of his past while bringing a sense of logic to the horrors that he lived through.

A beautiful and often poignant play, Number of People, written and directed by Emilie Beck, is a one man show about Leo Gold, a Holocaust survivor who struggles through his memories and the pains of his past. We chance upon Leo in a minimalist stage at the Piven Theater. He awakes from a slumber to find us (the audience), in his home. Like a welcomed though unrecognizable guest, we are immediately brought into Leo’s world, sharing his past experiences and life stories. Leo Gold, played by the seasoned Piven actor Bernard Beck (the playwright’s father), brings the grumbling, humorous, confused, and tragic elderly Gold to life. He engages the audience much like an eager paternal grandparent wanting to tell his grandchildren about his life. Telling jokes that only an elderly grandfather would find funny; “There are two groups of people in the world, those who put people into groups and those who don’t.” Leo shares his memories of the birth of his daughter, the number 1 person in his life, the memories of his wife, “a perfect figure eight,” and recounting tales two gruesome and horrifying to fully comprehend.

Beck’s main character is dealing with Alzheimer’s, but there is something missing from the character. For anyone who has seen the deterioration of a loved one's mind knows the pain and turmoil that comes with the disease. They are often battling with an invisible enemy that skews memories, twists details, and leaves the person confused, saddened, and angry. Beck’s Gold tangents from one memory to the next, but there is one trait that he fails to convey, throughout his entire 90 minute monologue; many Alzheimer’s patients segue from memory to memory, their logic understandable and predictable only to themselves. Beck always brings the audience back to a central theme of numbers, odds, and statistics, so that we, and Gold, are never really too confused, though he reminds the audience (his guest) that he does not know who we are. But perhaps this is the point.

Gold is a man whose life has been impacted from one of the most horrific events in history. The way he acted throughout his life, from telling his wife she was not really cold when the heat went out in their Sweden apartment “you don’t know what cold is!,” to Gold’s relationship with his daughter, and to the experiences he had counting dead bodies during other worldly tragedies, Gold’s actions are a result of the horrors he endured and survived. From the whistle of a train to the laughter of children, Leo Gold’s life was so defined by his events in a concentration camp that he can trace everything back to what he survived through. He uses numbers and odds in order to understand how he survived “if you stood in the back you were less likely to be chosen,” when one stood in the front, they were chosen and they died.

When Number of People is on target it is poignant, tragic, and mystifying. Beck’s vulnerability and old-age charm draws an audience in, as eager as young children listening to a grandfather’s tale. Beck as a playwright crafted a beautiful story of one man struggle to understand one of the most horrible catastrophes in history. While the play lacks in some areas, the play is worthy of being seen. Though the run time is too long and often too heavy handed, the play reflects on one of the core messages of the play; that if you remember, someone we loved is never really forgotten; if we remember the past, the life of one person, they don’t become a statistic, their life had a purpose, and it is remembered.

Evanston, IL- Piven Theatre Workshop continues its 2009-10 season with the world premiere of Number of People, written and directed by Emilie Beck. The production will run through April 11, 2010 at Piven Theatre Workshop, 927 Noyes Street.