Indecent by Paula Vogel Hauntingly Opens Dramaworks' Season

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust….a theatre troupe comes back from the dead to tell its story.  Let this superb Dramaworks production wash over you.  Bask in its bitter-sweet intensity and breathe in its essence of purity.  There is a tragic sadness to the production, juxtaposed to unadulterated joy, of living, of loving and of art.  Dramaworks’ production of Paula Vogel’s Indecent is faultlessly potent.

While Indecent is a play about a very good play, Sholem Asch’s 1907 God of Vengeance, it is more of an impressionistic work, capturing feelings about themes that are exposed in the actual production of God of Vengeance:  gender discrimination, lesbian love, censorship and persecution, art and freedom, anti-Semitism and immigration.  All of this is encapsulated in playwright’s Paula Vogel’s love poem to theatre itself.

God of Vengeance is dated in its melodramatic approach to the subject of Jewish filial tradition and obligation, incorporating a lesbian love affair with the powerful retribution all being played out ironically above a Jewish brothel.  As Asch’s wife, Madje, says in Indecent of her young husband’s play, My God, Sholem. It’s all in there. The roots of all evil: the money, the subjugation of women, the false piety … the terrifying violence of that father …and then, oh Sholem, the two girls in the rain scene! My God, the poetry in it—what is it about your writing that makes me hold my breath? You make me feel the desire between these two women is the purest, most chaste, most spiritual—

One of the central characters in God of Vengeance is father and husband Yekel, who lives with his family upstairs, while operating the brothel below.  He has one purpose in life: to make his “perfect, innocent” daughter, Rifkele, into a marriageable candidate for a scholar from a fine family.  He commissions the writing of a Torah which is to become part of his daughter’s dowry.  Instead, a prostitute from his brothel, Manke, and Rifkele have fallen in love which results in Yekel’s rage and violence. 

Mark Jacoby, Dani Marcus, Laura Turnbull

In Indecent Vogel chronologically takes the productions of God of Vengeance through different iterations, both real and imagined, over a swath of time to another level, focusing now on the two lovers and on the obscenity charges which were brought against it for its infamous lesbian scene (which played without incident before the Broadway production in the early 1920s). The play covers the sweep of history since Sholem Asch wrote the work, to the time he disowned it in the 1950’s.

Indecent has a musical core in this robust production.  Dramaworks’ choreography, under the direction of Lynnette Barkley, working with its klezmer musical underpinning, is stirring, unforgettable, defining the emotion of the moment through dance, mostly to evoke the Jewish Horah circle dance but also including wonderfully arranged Berlin cabaret style numbers for dramatic effect.

Three very talented musicians weave Yiddish sound throughout the play.  Glen Rovinelli is both the Musical Director and the Clarinet player.  Anna Lise Jensen is the Violinist while Spiff Wiegand is the Accordion player.  Music and dance were always important in Yiddish theatre and Paula Vogel incorporates these elements as a celebration of Jewish life and culture.

J Barry Lewis directs this Gesamtkunstwerk (“a total art work …that synthesizes the elements of music, drama, spectacle, dance, etc.) with a multimedia mix of 155 slides projected on the wall in the background which make the story clearer, and scores of scenes (characterized as “blinks in time”), some as few as three or four lines, bringing clarity to the narrative.  Plus he’s working with seven actors playing forty different roles, telling multiple stories with subplots.  It is a testament to his skill as a director to make it all seem natural and transparent.  It is indeed, a total work of art.

He has the “help” of one character in the play, Lemml, achingly played with such poignant conviction by Jay Russell, his PBD debut.  Lemml is the only character played by one actor with no other parts in the play.  He serves as the effective storyteller as does the narrator in Our Town.  

Cliff Burgess, Jay Russell

Lemml stays with the play as its stage manager in each and every one of its performances over decades, to the point where he feels ownership but is ultimately betrayed by Sholem Asch who allows the play to be deleteriously edited for Broadway and refuses to defend it in court.  All of this action is taking place while Europe’s anti-Semitism is on the rise, and we suspect the fate awaiting Lemml and the troupe as they leave America to return to Europe. 

Lemml says to Ashe: I am done being in a country that laughs at the way I speak. They say America is free? What do you know here is free? All over Europe we did this play with no Cossacks shutting us down. Berlin, Moscow, Odessa—everywhere there is theater! You don’t have the money for a ticket? Tickets over there cost less than a cup of tea. Then you dress up nice in your best coat and maybe you stand up in the second gallery, but you can say to your grandchildren: “I saw the great Rudolph Schildkraut in Sholem Asch’s The God of Vengeance!” I am leaving this country.

Kathleen Wise, Matthew Korinko

Otherwise, this gifted ensemble cast plays multiple characters.  When Lemml introduces the troupe, he divides them into three groups.  First the fathers, all of the mothers, the sagest of our characters, or the ones who remain fools at any age played in this production by PBD veteran Laura Turnbull and by Mark Jacoby making his PBD debut.  Both are seasoned performers who bring their long list of acting credits and accomplishments to their parts in this production.  In addition to other characters, their main role in the play within a play is that of the father and owner of the brothel, Yekel, and his wife Sarah, who was formerly a prostitute.

Lemml continues:  And our members of the troupe who are in their prime!”  In this production there are two PBD newcomers.  Making a stunning debut is Kathleen Wise who is Manke, the prostitute, among other characters.  She sings and dances and acts with a flawlessness that is mesmerizing.  Matthew Korinko makes his presence known with his rich voice, and convincing ability to play five roles, effortlessly changing from a NYC cop to the Rabbi Joseph Silverman, who brings legal action against the play.

Cliff Burgess, Dani Marcus

Finally, Lemml says, And our ingénues!...All the brides, all the grooms, the writers, the socialists. So ardent in their beliefs, so passionate in their lovemaking.  Here we have the seasoned PBD veteran Cliff Burgess who has the distinction of playing the younger Sholem Asch as well as Eugene O’Neill (briefly), not to mention three other characters.  He always brings an ardent sensibility to every part.  Finally, there is the PBD debut of multi talented Dani Marcus gorgeously playing Rifkele with six other brief roles.  With her expressive face and exquisite singing voice, she adds a strong dimension to this incredibly talented cast.

When Marcus and Wise are on stage as Rifkele and Manke, their presence and chemistry is striking. They even play the roles of “The Bagelman Sisters” singing a rousing rendition of “Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen” which the Andrew Sisters would envy in a brief scene from Grossinger’s in 1938.  (I did mention that there were scores of scenes, didn’t I?).

Dani Marcus, Kathleen Wise

In most shows one can point to the star or co stars and evaluate their performance.  Indecent is about an acting troupe and the entire Dramaworks cast becomes that troupe, feeling their pain and joy to such an extent that the audience is viscerally brought into this production.  It must be an actor’s dream to be in this troupe and it shows singing such songs as What can you makh dis is America! Iz America, un vot ken you makh? Or What can you do? It’s America! It’s America, so what can you do?

Michael Amico’s scenic design is in keeping with the ghostly acting troupe on stage, so there is empty space, reminiscent of ruins, in which the actors can tell their story. 

Lighting design by Paul Black includes some 350 light changes, all intended to provide a sense of the location rather than the reality of the location.  The lighting is also suggestive of those dark dramatic moments with nightmarish shadows on the back wall, as well as a cabaret feeling of Berlin in the 20s.

Kathleen Wise, Dani Marcus

With so many characters being played out over decades, costume designer Brian O’Keefe scores another triumph of period piece and ethnic identity verisimilitude including quick costume changes (many right on stage).  Brad Pawlak’s sound design focuses on the musicality of the production.  Stage Manager Debi Marcucci keeps track of untold lighting cues, costume changes, suitcases, chairs and tables, all constantly shifting between many scenes.

One cannot emerge from this production after its famous love scene in the rain without a sense of wonder.  Perhaps it is also the intimacy of the PBD theatre itself. When you are so close to the action in this play, and it is in constant motion, you simply feel part of it.  You may leave with the love scene in your heart, but Paula Vogel’s imagined words of Sholem Asch which precedes that gut retching joyous scene sound a clarion warning call to the arts, immigration policy, and tolerance:  I no longer care what is done on the stages of this country. Theater companies are started by young men who have the luxury to care about where they live. Or the false belief that they will be allowed to live in the place they care about.

A blink in time.  Palm Beach Dramaworks, still theatre to think about.

Photo credits: Samantha Mighdoll except for the following cast photo by Alicia Donelan picturing Mark Jacoby, Cliff Burgess, Glen Rovinelli, Anna Lise Jensen, Jay Russell, Spiff Wiegand, Laura Turnbull, Matthew Korinko, Kathleen Wise

Clock Dance by Anne Tyler Marks our Time(s)

Time, time, time see what's become of me (Paul Simon, “A Hazy Shade of Winter”).  That pretty much describes the action of most of Anne Tyler’s Clock Dance.  I have the distinction of having read nearly all her novels (maybe all) and this one, as well, is set in what I’ve come to call “Tylerville.”  It’s a mythical place where everyday people live, made memorable by Tyler’s gift for characterization.  Tylerville is a place in Baltimore, if you want to put it in a real world context.

We follow the main character in the novel, Willa Drake, kaleidoscopically, chapters devoted to 1967, 1977, 1997, 2017 from the vicinity of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, to Coronado, California, to Tucson, Arizona, and finally and fittingly, Baltimore.  In her last novel, A Spool of Blue Thread, it was the protagonist’s son who ends up searching for his own sense of belonging and place.  In this novel, it is Willa.

In her “Tyleresque,” prose we learn of the deaths of her parents, her two sons, Ian (now living in Colorado, and mostly out of cell phone range) and Sean (in Baltimore, explaining Willa’s connection there in part), the death of her first husband, her estrangement from her sister, Elaine, and her wifely obligations to her second husband, Peter, a semi retired lawyer who calls her, affectionately (but personality appropriate) “little one.”  As years wear on, she also becomes somewhat estranged from her two sons and finds herself living without purpose.  Until the call from Baltimore, and to tell more about the nature of that call is a spoiler.

In Baltimore we are introduced to a number of quirky characters, so typical in Tyler’s works.  She has the ability to make memorable people, all the pieces needed for a character driven novel.  Be prepared to share Willa’s journey with her collection of friends in Tylerville, Denise and her daughter Cheryl, Mrs. Minton, Callie, Ben Gold, Erland, Sir Joe, Hal, Richard, Barry, and let’s not forget Robert, the cat and Airplane, the dog.  All have their lives changed or touched in some way by Willa and in turn so is Willa’s.

At first I found the novel slow, even maudlin.  Did I care about Willa or just feel sorry for her?  Just at the point of fish or cut bait, I’m hooked by Tyler as the plot gathers momentum and Willa makes the transition from an after-thought in a male dominated world to something she desperately needs: to be needed.   At 61 she laments not having a grandchild, not having a daughter and through a slow osmotic process SHE adopts not only a family, but a place to live that finally feels like home.

Time and aging hang heavily on every page.  Willa’s father explains how he finally dealt with his days alone after the death of her mother (after Willa lost her first husband): “I broke my days into separate moments,” he said. “See, it’s true I didn’t have any more to look forward to.  But, on the other hand, there were these individual moments that I could still appreciate.  Like drinking that first cup of coffee in the morning.  Working on something fine in my workshop.  Watching a baseball game on TV.” She thought that over. “But…”she said.  He waited. “But…is that ENOUGH?” she asked him. “Well, yes it turns out that it is,”he said.

Three pre-teen girls play a game, each standing behind the other, their arms extended, all six moving in stiff, stop-and-start arcs in time to the clicking sounds that Willa could hear now punctuating the music.  “It’s a clock dance!” Cheryl shouted, briefly peeking out from the tail end. “Can’t you tell?”  Of course: those clicks were tick-tocks.  Those arms were clock hands, jerking in time to the tick-tocks like the hands of those stutter clocks on the walls of grade-school classrooms.

But when Willa thinks of her own version of a clock dance many pages later, it is a powerful reminder of our mortality: If Willa were to invent a clock dance, it wouldn’t look like the one the three little girls had shown her.  No, hers would feature a woman racing across the stage from left to right, all the while madly whirling so that the audience saw only a spinning blur of color before she vanished into the wings, POOF!  Just like that.  Gone.

The theme of the novel and the last chances presented to Willa couldn’t be any clearer than that.  Change or poof, gone.

In my review of her last novel,  A Spool of Blue Thread I said Tyler was showing her age.  Even more so here, now three years later.  Although Willa is “only” a 61 year old, I look to another character, Mrs. Minton as the future one Anne Tyler fears, a widow (like Tyler who lost her husband in 1997, the same year Willa loses her husband) who now uses a walker (“just for balance”), and when Willa first sees her “out of her housecoat” notes: Her skirt was unbecomingly short, barely knee-length, so that her blue-white mottle shins showed, and her sleeveless blouse exposed her stringy arms.  Aging is not a pretty process in Tyler’s eyes, but what is the alternative?  BTW, I am just slightly younger than Tyler and maybe that’s why I relate so much to her world-view.

Her detailed descriptions, noting all things relating to her characters, make her our very own Jane Austen, although sweeping love affairs are not her province.  Tyler is one of our finest living novelists, still going strong.  I only buy her books in hardcover, to enjoy them as permanent additions to our bookshelves, and as evidence that we still know how to make a real book.  As I concluded in my last review, “Tyler may be showing her age, but clearly with no diminution of her writing skills.”

Sunset Oct. 6 2018

“Bring Back our Mighty Dream!”

Written in 1935 by Langston Hughes, but might as well have been written today.  It is a moving call to “…take back our land again ….Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death…” 

Let America Be America Again by Langston Hughes, 1902 - 1967

Let America be America again.

Let it be the dream it used to be.

Let it be the pioneer on the plain

Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—

Let it be that great strong land of love

Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme

That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty

Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,

But opportunity is real, and life is free,

Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There's never been equality for me,

Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?

And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,

I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.

I am the red man driven from the land,

I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—

And finding only the same old stupid plan

Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,

Tangled in that ancient endless chain

Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!

Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!

Of work the men! Of take the pay!

Of owning everything for one's own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.

I am the worker sold to the machine.

I am the Negro, servant to you all.

I am the people, humble, hungry, mean—

Hungry yet today despite the dream.

Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers!

I am the man who never got ahead,

The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream

In the Old World while still a serf of kings,

Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,

That even yet its mighty daring sings

In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned

That's made America the land it has become.

O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas

In search of what I meant to be my home—

For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,

And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,

And torn from Black Africa's strand I came

To build a "homeland of the free."

The free?

Who said the free?  Not me?

Surely not me?  The millions on relief today?

The millions shot down when we strike?

The millions who have nothing for our pay?

For all the dreams we've dreamed

And all the songs we've sung

And all the hopes we've held

And all the flags we've hung,

The millions who have nothing for our pay—

Except the dream that's almost dead today.

O, let America be America again—

The land that never has been yet—

And yet must be—the land where every man is free.

The land that's mine—the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME—

Who made America,

Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,

Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,

Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose—

The steel of freedom does not stain.

From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,

We must take back our land again,

America!

O, yes,

I say it plain,

America never was America to me,

And yet I swear this oath—

America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,

The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,

We, the people, must redeem

The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.

The mountains and the endless plain—

All, all the stretch of these great green states—

Norman Rockwell's The Golden Rule (1961)