'Vingt-quatre heures de la vie d’une femme' to Take the Stage in Beirut
Official poster for 'Vingt-quatre heures de la vie d’une femme.' ©MFG Consulting

After captivating Parisian audiences in French, Twenty-Four Hours in a Woman’s Life, adapted from Stefan Zweig’s novel, directed by Ji Chen, and performed by Joanna Khalaf, is set to take flight at Le Monnot Theatre in Beirut. The production, with MFG Consulting overseeing its execution in Lebanon, will begin on March 5, 2024, at 7:30 PM. The play will be performed in French on Wednesdays and Thursdays, while the Lebanese version will take over on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. Fresh from rehearsals in Paris, Joanna Khalaf shares insights with This Is Beirut.

Bringing Zweig’s compelling narrative to the stage, Vingt-quatre heures de la vie d’une femme (Twenty-Four Hours in a Woman’s Life) is preparing for its next chapter in Beirut. Under the direction of Ji Chen, Joanna Khalaf delivers a performance that bridges two cultures, offering audiences an immersive experience in both French and Lebanese. The Lebanese adaptation, translated by Khalaf herself, remains true to Zweig’s poetic and detailed storytelling.

Alone on stage, the actress draws spectators into the raw emotions and tumultuous journey of a woman whose life changes in the span of a single day. A chance encounter at a crossroads of fate reshapes her beliefs and redefines her past. Enhanced by immersive staging that blends flashbacks, projections, and deeply felt narration, the performance transcends conventional theater.

For an hour, Joanna Khalaf holds the audience captive, embodying Zweig’s protagonist with striking intensity. Her movements, words, and emotions flow seamlessly, breaking the traditional fourth wall to create a dialogue between the stage and the spectators. With a performance that oscillates between restraint and fervor, her voice resonates, turning the stage into a living, breathing canvas of emotions. Each moment is carefully crafted, allowing the audience to experience the character’s turmoil and revelations firsthand. The actress answered This Is Beirut’s questions.

Interview with Joanna Khalaf

Since you've already performed the play in French, do you ever find yourself translating your lines on stage in real-time?

No, I made a conscious effort to separate the two texts and approach the Lebanese version as if it were written by a different author. The translation process was long—I had to find the right phrasing and nuances while preserving Zweig’s poetry and meticulous attention to detail. I needed to detach from the French text I had rehearsed multiple times and rediscover the story from the author’s perspective before rewriting it in a way that felt organic. Then, as an actress, I reclaimed it anew.

At first, I instinctively wanted to revert to the French phrasing while performing, so the challenge was to treat the second version as a completely new play rather than a direct adaptation.

How does it feel to bring this production to a Lebanese audience after its success in France?

I’m excited, though there’s a fair amount of nervous energy! It’s a mix of emotions—I’m thrilled to return to Lebanon as an actress, performing in a theater I admire and where I once sat as an audience member. I’m grateful to be part of such a meaningful production with an incredible team.

The Lebanese audience differs from the French one, especially since I break the fourth wall in this play, actively engaging with spectators. French audiences tend to be more reserved in this regard, whereas Lebanese theatergoers are more responsive and enjoy participating. The challenge in Beirut will be to connect with two different audiences—the Francophone crowd attending the French performances and the Lebanese-speaking audience experiencing the play in their native language.

What has this play brought you as an actress?

So much. It’s a pivotal moment in my career. A solo performance is a milestone—once you take on such a role, you carry it with you forever. The entire production rests on the shoulders of a single actor, who must not only embody the character but also uphold the vision of the director from start to finish.

I’m constantly learning, especially working with Ji Chen, an exceptional director and artist who encourages me to let go. I tend to be analytical, but she pushes me to focus on my scene partners—even in a solo performance, there are always invisible presences on stage.

When she first offered me the role, I almost declined. This story has been told a thousand times, adapted for film and theater. I wondered, what new perspective could I bring? But as rehearsals progressed, I realized how distinct our approach was—the direction brings a vibrant, colorful dynamic while preserving the drama. I’m learning to navigate the balance between sorrow, which is central to the story, and the more playful moments of meta-theater where I step out of character to address the audience.

Criticism is another challenge—performing alone makes you vulnerable. You risk either self-doubt or overconfidence. I’m learning to step back, process feedback without letting it define me, and stay grounded. This project has been an incredible teacher, but then again, an actor never stops learning.

What impact does the play have on you as a woman?

I don’t fully subscribe to the Method Acting approach. I rely on the text itself rather than drawing from personal emotions or experiences. That said, something always shifts inside me after each performance. A memory resurfaces, a face from my past, moments of joy or grief. Some nights, I leave the stage feeling uplifted; other times, I carry the weight of the emotions I just lived through.

Beyond the personal, the play has a powerful feminist core. To me, feminism isn’t just about grand speeches or explicit messages—it’s also about the stories we choose to tell and the truths they reveal.

In Lebanon, performing the story of a widow who defies societal judgment by choosing to live for herself—even if that means running away with a man barely older than her children—is a radical act. It’s a reminder that women’s choices, desires, and autonomy should not be dictated by others. That’s what makes me proud—to be part of a narrative that champions women’s rights through storytelling.

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