Sarah Holtzman, an American journalist, scores the interview
of her career with Pol Pot,
Cambodia’s Khmer Rouge leader, but when he throws her out she learns
instead of the
secret plan to capture him. In 1998 the United States prepared to imprison
Pol Pot to try
him for crimes against humanity and his Khmer Rouge adversary Ta Mok, known
as "The Butcher", made overtures to hand him over. Inspired by a
close and early contact
with a poet Heng Chhay, a survivor of the Khmer Rouge atrocities, Sarah
became a
journalist to answer the question of why evil flourishes in the world.
What she discovers
the day she meets Pol Pot raises more questions than it provides answers.
Transformed
by the poet Heng Chhay’s love, the lines blur between writing and
living a story that is
darker and bigger than she imagined. Can she reverse the cycle of violence,
or is she too
implicated?
“SILENCE OF GOD, directed by
Jean Randich, is a brave attempt to come to grips with the Cambodian
holocaust, something that has largely failed to penetrate the American
consciousness…SILENCE OF GOD is a brave play, with a compelling
story to tell.” - T.L. Ponick, The Washington Times
“The single female author in the group, Catherine Filloux, is
a returning festival playwright. SILENCE OF GOD is a fictional account
of Cambodia, Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge, imagined through the eyes
of a journalist at the end of the Pol Pot leadership. The lighting
and set initially establish a reverence and awe for the material of
a history too rude to be imagined. The play is ultimately about prayer
and death, with a momentary flare of love at its center…One
of the lines in the play speaks about “putting the spirit down
on paper” and much of the play’s symbolism revolves around
this significant act. It is the way human beings make an indentation
in the universe. Filloux does this.” - Grace Cavalieri, The Morgan Messenger
“Over everything hangs the Cambodian tragedy and America’s
complicity or inaction. That Pol Pot proves so banal in person accentuates
the mystery of evil.” - Christopher Rawson, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
2002