A young actor stepped onto a Tel Aviv stage in 1964 to play both a majestic monarch and a penniless, drunken shoemaker, inadvertently changing the course of Israeli show business forever.
As the dual lead in the monumental musical King Solomon and Shalmai the Cobbler, Illi Gorlitzky didn’t just star in a hit; he helped anchor a high-caliber, Broadway-style theatrical language for a young nation still figuring out its cultural voice.
Gorlitzky, a towering pillar of the Israeli stage, screen, and Hebrew song, died this week at the age of 91.
His passing marks the twilight of a pioneering generation of founding artists who seamlessly blended classical theater, popular music, and everyday Hebrew culture into a singular national identity.
To understand Gorlitzky’s impact is to look back at the golden era of Israel’s performing arts.
Gorlitzky starred alongside Yona Atari in 'Solomon and Shalmai'
Starring alongside the brilliant Yona Atari, his performance in Solomon and Shalmai – set to the sophisticated translations of poet Natan Alterman and the lush melodies of composer Sasha Argov – became a runaway phenomenon that played over a thousand times.
“It was a display the likes of which had never been seen in Israel before, and rarely since,” recalled musician Hanan Yovel in a moving tribute. Yovel noted that Alterman himself had attended the dress rehearsal in absolute agony, convinced the play would be a catastrophic failure.
“Illi calmed him down and promised him he was wrong. Illi, of course, was right. He was a massive star – in my eyes, second only to God.”
Gorlitzky and Atari became an iconic comedic duo, later extending their stage chemistry to the wildly popular revue Bargain Market.
Across seven decades, Gorlitzky’s versatility knew no bounds. He won three prestigious Kinor David awards, moving effortlessly between high-brow theater at the Cameri and popular satirical acts with legends like Yossi Banai, while starring in landmark Israeli films such as Three Days and a Child, Scouting Patrol (Sayarim), and Tuvye and His Seven Daughters.
Yet, for all his effortless charm on stage, Gorlitzky’s most enduring legacy may be the battles he fought when the house lights went down. He was a rare breed in show business: a profound intellectual who possessed a sharp mind for practical, legal, and financial realities.
Recognizing that early Israeli performers had virtually no legal safety nets, Gorlitzky transitioned from star to labor pioneer.
First director of Israeli Union of Performing Artists, Eshkolot co-founder
Gorlitzky became the first director of the Israeli Union of Performing Artists (IUPA) and co-founded Eshkolot, the country’s primary organization responsible for securing and distributing royalties to performing artists.
“He was our Theodor Herzl and David Ben-Gurion rolled into one,” said veteran entertainer Tuvia Tzafir. “He was a visionary entrepreneur who thought of the public good.”
At a time when copyright and intellectual property were barely recognized in Israel, Gorlitzky single-handedly built the framework that ensured generations of future actors and musicians could make a dignified living from their craft.
Even as the years advanced, Gorlitzky stubbornly refused to look backward.
On the eve of his 80th birthday celebration at the Cameri Theater in 2015, he was asked for his perspective on a lifetime of achievements. His response became the definitive mantra of his later years: “I miss tomorrow.”
He lived with his eyes fixed on the horizon, famously quoting the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein to describe his philosophy on life: “Don’t always live on the barren heights of cleverness; drop down sometimes into the green valleys of silliness.”
He followed that thought by invoking Dante: “It is love that moves the sun and the other stars.”
“That tells you everything about Illi,” noted one long-time media colleague, remembering a performer who was as comfortable discussing philosophy as he was dancing a light-footed tap routine on a television variety show.
Gorlitzky leaves behind his devoted partner of recent years, Anat Globus, a senior editor at Channel 12 News, who captured the heavy quiet left by his absence: “My man went his own way this morning. The house is empty. It is sad.”