It also traces her journey from Russian birth to American childhood, and an adulthood spent in fierce struggle for her country.

This being readers theater, Shari Lynn uses no make-up tricks to create Meir. Instead, she uses voice and expression to suggest Meir's old age and physical deterioration. But she unfolds a rather soft version of a person who was often brought to tears, without also showing her essential toughness.

Gibson's script is written for an uninterrupted 90-minute performance. Director Vanita Rae Smith adapts it with a short intermission, breaking on the lines, "Women are not made for killing. We bring life into the world."

The break emphasizes the division between the personal and political Meir and separates her two balconies.

Meir's balcony in Act 1 is her apartment in Tel Aviv, from which she watched the waves of arriving immigrants that contributed to the course of modern Israel.

The balcony in Act 2 is at the plant that built nuclear weapons that could have set off a doomsday scenario.

Most of the play seems to be preparation for the last showdown. The Yom Kippur War occurred in 1973 when Israel was attacked by Egypt and Syria. Meir literally had her finger on the button that would release nuclear bombs on Cairo. Meir was 75 years old.

In tense phone calls, she persuades Henry Kissinger to release the military support that would allow Israel to defend itself without going nuclear.

What seems missing in the production — and in the work itself — is a clear sense of focus. The script slips from homey observations — "the Arabs are our cousins if you go all the way back to Abraham fooling around with his housemaid," — to chilling warfare realities — "a boy doesn't just bleed. He dies" — to possibilities worthy of "Dr. Strangelove."

Missing also is the steely backbone and unflinching dedication that pushed Meir, often against the pull of her family.