Indecent Spins a Tale of Hope
Indecent surprised me in the
best possible way. As you walk into the Cort Theater, the actors are sitting
onstage under a sign explains this is the story of a little Jewish play. The
colors, the actor’s outfits and the set are all various shades of drab. Waiting
for the play to begin you don’t feel excitement as much as resignation that
what will follow will be more a history lesson as drama.
And the start
of the play seems to reiterate that understanding, the players stand, dust draining
from their outfits in a move that seems less solemn than portentous as they
introduce themselves as types not characters. We are they shown the beginning
of a playwright’s first drama, God of Vengeance. This is the play
within the play that the story refers to. It is 1907 Yiddish play that tells
the story of a Jewish family where the father runs a brothel and the wife and
daughter live about it with him. The daughter and one of the prostitutes fall
in love and openly kiss and embrace on stage. The father is furious and angry and crushed, condemning his daughter
to prostitution for her sin.
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| Richard Topol (photo: Carol Rosegg) |
The playwright
shares his draft with members of the artistic community in Poland, who are
dumbfounded by the show. They cannot believe that Sholem Asch would expose this
part of the community and hold it up to ridicule. They withdraw support, trying
to explain that stories of Jews written by Jews should be uplifting, not
examples of horrid behavior. The one person who finds the beauty of the play
and the love of the women, is a simple farmer, the cousin of one of the men,
Lemmel (a fantastic Richard Topol).
Sholem and his
wife venture to Berlin and, with a troupe of players, find great success with God
of Vengeance on the Berlin stage. Success follows as they tour with the
play throughout Europe and ultimately into America. When success off Broadway translates to a
Broadway run, the play is altered. The gentle love between the girls is twisted
to be a seduction and exploitation of the daughter, in order to placate the
censors. It doesn’t work. On opening night the show is shut down and the
players arrested.
At this point,
playwright Paula Vogel’s Indecent
takes a wondrous and unexpected turn. The focus moves from the troupe and the
actions of the police to the reactions of the community and playwright Sholem
Asch. The “established” Jewish community of New York is aghast at the drama,
echoing the original Polish Yiddish complaints that it shows the community in a
negative light. Sholem, who was so
passionate in Poland in defense of his play, is dismissive of it now, some 16
years later. He is tired of being know only for this one play; he’s moved on to
writing novels and embarrassed by his lack of English. He abandons the troupe, the
play and his friend Lemmel who has faithfully shepherded God of Vengeance for
years.
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| The cast of Indecent (photo: Carol Rosegg) |
Indecent
raises the question, who owns outrage and story? Is it youth; is it the creator
who is allowed to withdraw it at will? These questions grow organically out of
the material and force you to think. And it isn’t a Jewish question. African
Americans have asked it when they hear Rap that will offend others. Gay
Americans ask it as they watch a parade that they are sure would shock their
mothers. Christians Americans ask it when they see a car with Jesus bumper
sticker cut off someone else on the road and then flip them off.
Indecent answers the question as
well, by showing a single scene from God of Vengeance. The moment in time
owns it, the actors own it and the viewer owns it. It is a singular moment that
deserves to be judged as performed.
Director
Rebecca Taichman has created magic at the Cort Theater, helped by Production
Designer Tal Yarden - who’s simple and evocative set keeps everything clean and
clear. At the end of Indecent I stood, a bit in wonder, that my preliminary
expectations were so wrong. Indecent pulls magic out of the air every night. And
the players give it to the audience.