Where is Home? Thoughts on "Atomic" during Passover

There's a scene at the beginning of Schindler's List where you see the Shabbos candles lit and burning, then the family fades out of the room, while the candles are left to burn into curls of smoke in an empty and darkened house.  Here one minute, gone the next; families, whole neighborhoods, millions of people disappeared.  The countries that Leo Szilard and his loved ones lived in while still in Europe - Hungary, Germany, England - were all affected by the war, but it was Berlin that he escaped in the nick of time, right under new chancellor Adolf Hitler's nose (this is mentioned in the Atomic song, A Little Fire). His sensing and foretelling the imminent danger - this time for Jews, dissidents, etc. - became a theme in his life.  There's a line that occurs twice from my character, Trude Weiss, "you have an annoying habit of being right" that highlights that ability.  If anything, he certainly had a true scientist's sense of hypothesis, not only for predicting nuclear chain reactions, but politics as well.  He was also able to convince many of his loved ones to escape before the war. Once in the US and working on the Manhattan Project, he moved about the United States for years, sometimes living with Trude, sometimes on his own.  It was something of a nomadic lifestyle, which some might say was not unknown to Jews for centuries. When the Hebrews left Egypt, they were also said to wander for forty years.  Indeed, there are allusions to Moses in Atomic that work both culturally and scientifically.  There was no map in either case, literal or figurative.

I'm guessing they were decidedly not dressed for the Renaissance, though.

Last week, we had the honor of hearing nuclear science history expert - and award-winning teacher - Kathleen Dwyer (set and lighting designer Rob Lippert's wife) share her fascinating knowledge of and passion for atomic physics.  One of the questions director Scott Miller asked was why the Germans had not come up with the bomb themselves.  Her response - and I'm paraphrasing - was something to effect of, "well, they got rid of all the people capable of doing it" - in other words, hoisted on their own petard of persecution.

If you don't mind being thoroughly disgusted, search keywords "Jewish," "scientists," and "Manhattan Project."  I did so innocently (while writing the last blog), and was shocked to see hateful, paranoid garbage from white supremacist group Stormfront pop up among the results.  Not having clicked on it, I could only assume it was being used as some sort of scare-tactic smear akin to The Eternal Jew, one of the nastiest pieces of antisemitic propaganda ever conceived, painting Jews as dangerous and destructive, which is nothing if not ironic.  I was merely searching on the idea that Kathleen hit on - several of the prominent scientists that gave birth to atomic physics were indeed Jewish: Einstein, Szilard, Teller, Oppenheimer, among others.  Indeed, Germany's loss was the allies' gain...it's especially stomach-turning that those who would carry the Nazi's hateful legacy would twist that contribution in such a way. 

In the musical, Trude pointedly and defiantly tries to make time to have shabbos in the states, insisting that they can't take it for granted, having seen the effects of growing antisemitism in Europe.  What horror must have been theirs, however - the whole world's, really - upon discovering what the endgame was to rounding up their friends and families back home: an attempt at utterly wiping out a culture from the face of the earth.  In another touching scene in Atomic, Leo and Trude collapse in disbelief at the news, struggling to grasp that the world they knew is gone, and realizing they cannot go home; there's nothing and no one to go home to.  "How can somewhere that's home when you're in it/feel so empty and cold the next minute?" and "How could we know?"  are among the questions they ask.  There are no answers.  The Holocaust stands out in history as grim and horrific proof that humans can, and will, do unspeakable things to whole entire populations of people in the name of fear and hatred disguised as nationalism.  May we never forget that.

Four glasses of wine at least?  Let's do this.

Tonight is Passover, and I have the honor of celebrating at a seder given by my boyfriend's family.  As I might have mentioned in previous blogs, I was born and raised Baptist, so seder isn't something I was brought up with, but I'd like to think I'm doing okay.  Heck, I even eat the gefilte fish!  That's big for a gentile. Still, more than just the food, I enjoy hearing the story and the tradition that's thousands of years old.   A colleague of my mother's while she taught French and Spanish at Ladue High School, one of the "tribe" himself, once explained to her that all Jewish holidays seem to follow a pattern: "they tried to kill us, but we're still here...let's eat."  Passover in a post-Holocaust world reminds us that while many - like Szilard and Weiss - were delivered from harm and obliged to wander, that so many others had their homes, their possessions, their legacies, their very lives erased.  So today, we can still celebrate the fact that great minds like Szilard's survived to make their mark. Chag Sameach (Happy holiday)!

Take a breath, close your eyes: starting "Atomic"

We began Atomic rehearsals last night. Whenever I begin a new project, I can never shake the nerves for the first few rehearsals. I've sung for New Line before, but only in the ensemble - which was unforgettable and amazing - for Jerry Springer: The Opera  and Bonnie and Clyde, but now I find myself in a larger and more complex role.  In the next few weeks, it's my job to give voice to a real person, one who gave voice to her husband and partner as well.

Trude with Leo (University of California San Diego)

That's a big honor for any actor, for certain.  Gertrud Weiss Szilard was a physician and researcher, a person who understood and respected science, and along with her partner, was genuinely trying to wrap her mind around the enormous implications - both extraordinary and very, very dangerous - of atomic physics. In the musical, she's often depicted as an educated twist on the neglected and even nagging wife, but she's also a support, part of Leo Szilard's conscience, and what in Yiddish is known as a noodge. (By the way, isn't Yiddish amazing)?

Speaking of all things Jewish, I'll be blogging more later about the singular experience of Jewish expatriates (especially scientists) later on in the rehearsal process, and about Trude's Jewish identity during and in the wake of World War II and the Holocaust.  Jewish culture is touched on more than a few times in this musical - most obviously their horror at what was happening back home.

Atomic physics cannot have had a greater impact on our 20th and 21st century imagination and politics.  I think it's important to remember that at the heart of this incredible realization that we could bring about the end of civilization in just a few moments were real human souls, ones that we should celebrate and have gratitude for.  More than just a scientific visionary, Szilard was gifted with a real humanity that saw the political and moral ramifications of unleashing their discovery on the world.  He was also an incredibly brave man.  For her part, Trude honored that bravery.  I'm eager to get into that and explore with this phenomenal cast and crew.  Let's sing about science!

We Don't Want This Moment to Die

It's been a very long road for me from seeing the audition notice for Jerry Springer the Opera on New Line's Web site, preparing for the audition and getting up the courage to do it, rehearsing, and performing it these past few weekends with such an incredibly talented, uninhibited, and brave cast and crew.  I'll be honest:

It's exhausting.

And I'm spent!

• It's trying to everyone's voice - the ranges for all vocal parts run the gamut, it's nonstop singing for the audience members, and characters belt, sing in falsetto and shout.

• It's mentally taxing - several of us in the "audience" are on stage nearly the entire time.  When I'm not on, I'm doing a quick change and a change back.

• I have a semi-permanent red patch on my scalp from my ill-conceived plan to make myself look a little edgier by streaking my hair with crimson temporary hair color spray. All my stuff and my boyfriend's stuff is also pink as a result.

I was going for "Demonic."

  ...And it's absolutely wonderful and a delight each and every time. I don't want it to be over.

I haven't been doing theater very long, and I hope to continue doing it, but I can honestly say that I probably won't ever again be doing anything quite as naughty, as bold, clever or controversial as this.  It's an honor to say all those F-bombs, to pretend to gag at a man relieving his bowels onstage, to choke on my disintegrating glittery lips and do hideously lascivious and suggestive things just a spitting distance away from our audience members.

Working with the fellow actors and crew at New Line is always a joy - an absolute clinic for me - as I marvel at their talent and consummate professionalism - but not ever at the expense of fun and creativity.  Just total competence.

Not to tempt fate, but I'm somewhat pleased that whatever protestations this production received were nearly limited to feeble, mostly copied letters from a group who had clearly never seen the opera, and one or two "walkouts," which we expected.  I'm so incredibly proud of the St. Louis theater-going community of which I am a member.  It's evident in the wonderful engagement we have in the performing arts in St. Louis that my hometown, albeit humbled and troubled, is special.  It's great to put something totally insane and offensive out there and to be fully embraced.

So as we close the doors on Jerry, his guests, his audience, and wave goodbye to him one last time, I'm very grateful to have been part of this filthy, wild, bizarre, operatic moment.  If you'll excuse me, I think the lesbians will see me now.

...No, I cannot.

Hot Enough For Ya?

As we enter "hell week," which may be especially appropriately named given the plot of Jerry Springer: The Opera, New Line Theatre has been getting some very good attention from the local press, such as our NPR affiliate KWMU, as well as the flagship newspaper, the Post-Dispatch.  With that, it means we're also attracting the attention of a few folks who are already upset this is being staged.  A couple of letters of complaint to our director call the choice to stage the show "gauche" (a word that I feel better describes wearing jeans to a wedding, not the damnation-worthy acts the letter-writer describes), while another self-professed Catholic says it offends God and his faith.  I get it - there's plenty for my fellow cast members, crew, audience and I to be a bit appalled by, but there are things like tone, context and satire that the complainers don't know about.

"Jerry Springer" and "offensive" go together like Klan members and well-timed bitch slaps.

Upon seeing these letters, I say, okay, well - I think the entire cast and crew expected ruffled feathers - that's what the point is, in a way, but not at the encouragement of censorship.  However, like the anticipation of an orchard after you plant the seeds, until our little ribald and satirical production-tree has started to bear the fruit of not only ticket sales, but angry, offended Christians, we weren't sure - and still aren't certain how crazy things might get.

In light of these letters, the cast has been sharing more (amongst our group) about their own feelings surrounding this opera.  For my part, I'm an agnosticized (I just made that word up, do you like it?) protestant, a Baptist who grew up in a very liberal church that accepts openly gay couples, transgender people, and welcomes questions of belief and faith.  Having said that, I still have a tight relationship with its religious community. I'm the granddaughter of a minister.  I went to Sunday School weekly growing up.  I have been taking voice lessons from the insanely talented Cecelia Stearman, our pastor's wife, for several years, and have a great relationship with our (now former) pastor, Scott Stearman.  I volunteer with the church regularly to do hands-on community events, went to Serbia with the group and even on a few youth group missions as a chaperone, sang in choir for years, and often perform solo works during worship services - it's still my church.

I have had to pick and choose who to "invite" to the production, and even beg some well-meaning, dear friends not to go - TRUST ME.  People will laugh and ask how bad it could be, and only when I recite the line, "raped by an angel" do they begin to believe me.  Our director Scott Miller's mother is sitting this one out, in fact.  Even my boyfriend, a non-practicing reform Jew with far less of a frame of reference for this stuff, winced a bit at the 'rape' line.  It's hard to know how open to be about it, and you have to pick and choose which of your friends and family can handle it, and who can't.  I can promote the show only by being open and honest with disclaimers about just how offensive the show can be for those who take their faith seriously.

...And their partying seriously.

The sense of walking on eggshells is even more so for many of my cast-mates whose families work, volunteer and/or school their children in religiously affiliated institutions every day.  I want everyone to know we're people who are also steeped in faith, but we're also able to step outside of that and create art - in this case, art that is dirty, profane, blasphemous even, and in doing so, portray religious icons as individuals with feelings - feelings that the Bible never explored.  For that, it's been fascinating and eye-opening.  Of course Eve and Adam would have questions for the deity that gave them a life of "grief and misery" for eating "one little apple," of course Mary would want to know where not only her God was but her son when she needed him (as many people do), of course Satan would want forgiveness and redemption - the redemption Jesus seems to offer everyone BUT him.

"Well, that sucked."

This is all wonderfully acted and set to amazing music.  This is really brilliant and brave stuff, people!  But the fact that it is still considered so "edgy" to portray religious figures this way tells us a bit about how easily some people take offense rather than seek to understand, or at least come along on a journey that the art is taking them on.  A month from now, after we've closed our season, I'm sure we'll have offended a few more people, some who have actually seen part of the show, and some who have just read or heard a bit about it.  My hope is that even deeply offended folks stick around long enough to hear what "Jerry" has to say about the sacred in this world, even in a show with so much profanity. 

If anything is sacred, it's definitely Batman.

Is that supposed to be me?

Among the profanity and often nasty spectacle in Jerry Springer: the Opera are many moments of surprising, haunting beauty.  One such moment occurs when the character of Baby Jane, played by the extraordinarily talented Taylor Pietz, sings about the rank nastiness of the world in an attempt to prove a point. "Society has an ugly face," say the lyrics. "...Jerry did not make it so; he merely holds a mirror to it," she pleads to Satan to be merciful to Jerry for seemingly making hay (and making light of) human misery, absurdity and ignorance. Seriously, when she sings - quite beautifully - about the common man, the people Jerry features - being "smeared with shit," you don't know whether to laugh or to cry.  The audience on the live performance recording, for their part, do not venture a giggle.

Society's face also has mashed potatoes on it.

Maybe it's true that Jerry Springer held a mirror up to the grossness of human beings, but one of the things I find striking about this work is not only its cleverness (please read some of my fellow JS blogger's posts on the matter), nor its hilarity, but the fact that it was written by Brits looking at us, Americans on the other side of the pond.  Jerry Springer, and our love for it, seemed to them fertile ground for growing some fine art, and they weren't wrong.  It should be noted that one of the writers, Richard Thomas, also wrote the libretto for the Anna Nicole opera, so the lowbrow (and classically American) drama-meets-highbrow-art-form-idea is probably appealing to him.

So, maybe it's not Jerry, but Brits looking at Americans using Jerry Springer, or rather, 'Muricans.  There are points at which the British-ness comes through in the lyrics: for example, when Satan offers Jesus "a little biscuit" (what we'd probably call a cookie), as a sarcastic token of reward, or when Satan says Jesus is "banging on" about something (going on and on) and Jesus tells the others they "didn't give a toss" (but hey, that rhymes with cross)!  Most of the time, however, they're pretty much spot-on with plain-old, ill-bred American dialects...those filthy, filthy dialects.  But go one layer deeper, and you're looking at some even more - I might argue affectionately drawn - outrageous, unhinged American stereotypes that were Jerry's regulars: cheating partners, aspiring poledancers, transgender people, and of course, diaper fetishists.  In America, such people are stars!

There's definitely a diaper in the onesie somewhere.  Also, good luck sleeping soundly tonight.

The most telling part of this "Brits'-eye view" for me comes with the sung "ads" during the opera as the first act unfolds much like the eponymous show.  Some are utterly ridiculous - ads for Novocaine or intestinal parasites, but some - like ads for health insurance, finding Jesus, plastic surgery or guns...are completely on the nose and hilarious.  The audience that The Jerry Springer Show was aimed at would have very likely been shown ads for supplemental health insurance and for joining a church/proselytizing, and though firearms advertising laws vary from state to state, no country loves its guns more than America - I mean, 'Murica. 

Ads for Viagra, Prozac, etc., round out the selection - common fare here, but we have to keep in mind that in other countries, direct-to-consumer pharmaceutical advertising is considered profiteering on illness and is banned, as are most privately-owned firearms in general, and our healthcare system appears shockingly misguided, dysfunctional, expensive and just immoral to other countries who see it as a right. Not to get all political, I love many, many things about this country, but no wonder we're such easy targets.  

Am I the only one particularly insulted that this dude wore a Cardinals shirt?

So maybe we do sometimes have a collectively ugly, shit-smeared face.  Thank goodness for art, particularly satire and humor, to hold a mirror to it.  I see this opera both celebrating and condemning the sometimes ridiculous circus of humanity - especially America - and then leaving us with an admonition to "take care of yourselves...and each other."

Jer-nalism in the new Millennium

Jer-ry! Jer-ry! We just finished the first rehearsal for Jerry Springer: The Opera. My stomach was in knots, my head felt like I was underwater, but dang - it's going to be awesome.  What a cast - every single voice is on-point, and I have my work cut out for me.  Still, it's surreal and amazing.  I remember reading about the show when it came out in London over 10 years ago.  Dad, knowing I loved musical theater, brought the New York Times over to me in the kitchen and pointed out and article about this opera - not musical theater but actual opera - of the lowest-brow entertainment available at the time, short of donkey shows.  Brilliant! 

It's been awhile, and we've had time to reflect on the Jerry Springer show.  All throughout the first rehearsal, as these gorgeous voices of Luke, Zak, Taylor, Lindsay and the cast, all saying gloriously dirty things, I kept having flashbacks to being in middle and high school. It was 1995 again, and I was checking out the latest redneck fight on Jerry as I finished some homework.  While I wasn't a dedicated watcher, my favorite episodes were the ones with the Klan, though.  I mean, at least I could pity the trashy cheaters, the purported white supremacists, however?  Delicious disdain - and even if you changed the channel, you could STILL feel superior as you sighed and rolled your eyes at the modern-day freak show.  It was before many folks had taken their kinks and niche interests to the Internet, and before the age of the "reality TV" show.  So really, a simpler time.  A time when we had a live studio audience to hoot at the Mama Junes and Honey Boo Boos of the world.

Remember her name.

Honestly, though - if you think about it, all throughout recorded history, literature and entertainment, we've enjoyed the schadenfreude (yeah, thanks, auto correct, you had my back just now) of watching people we consider weird, outlandish, exotic, just freaks, strange acts, odd bodies, faces, lifestyles, interests...far-out stuff.  That was one of my favorite numbers we rehearsed yesterday - "bring on the losers!" As much as we like to pretend we don't go for stuff like that, never underestimate the power of prurient interest and morbid curiosity to grab the imagination of the masses.  The tradition of the palace fool or jester, the fascination with extremes - dwarfs, giants, etc., the raucous and bloody circus of Roman times, the freak show or side show, talk shows, and now...TLC?

The L stands for Learning.  LEARNING.

I'm not saying without Jerry, there wouldn't be reality TV today, in its endless spinoffs and countless varieties, but there has always been an appetite for this, and Jerry just mainstreamed it quite a bit more, and real or fake, gave it the subtle yet critical spin of these losers WANT this fame - some have always needed the money or means, no matter how dehumanizing things like traveling freak shows have been.  That one element alone has been huge in popularizing shows like Jersey Shore or Here Comes Honey Boo Boo. 

Now, there's also the idea of inviting the viewer into this world.  By giving us the studio audience and inviting freaks and weirdos on as "guests," Jerry seems to have filled our historic void for gazing at odd stuff (while patting ourselves on the back for our normalcy) and embraced and celebrated fully the wacky spectacle of it all.  Now we have Twitter and such to boo and jeer at society's out-there types - but Jerry did it first, and you can't throw a chair on the Web.
 

Snapping Whips at Whipper Snappers




Clint Eastwood really looks like crap these days.

I recently watched a documentary on the rise of the “teenage” demographic on Netflix (called Teenage,  what do you know), which, while being a lot less fun and wild than its chosen subject matter, was informative on how the rise of youth culture came about in the United States.  Hell yes, it touched on the young generation during the depression. We like to think that Gen X and Millennials’ rejection of a lot of Boomer-turned-yuppie promises (get a college education, and you’ll get a good-paying job, among other things)might be new, but it’s not.  Beginning with the sad reaping of World War I in nearly a generation lost to brutal conflict and disease – the old sent the young off the war, essentially, to do their dirty work, to die – youth have been mistrusting the elders for quite some time now.  Nearly a century, in fact.   We should think of something to celebrate 100 years of “teenagers.”  It will - nay, SHOULD - probably be forced, patronizing and so super lame. I’ll get back to you.

I hear the kids love to "jitterbug."

 

When Bonnie and Clyde sing “What was always good enough for you,” it’s that same rejection of the elder generation’s ideals.  I love that moment in the musical, not just because I get to trudge around like one of the downtrodden masses, the suckers, but because it’s really a great summation of what youth culture is all about, doing it differently.  Living differently, charting a new course.  Why shouldn’t they be mistrustful of institutions?  Trust in banks, trust in the church, trust in the law – it all turned out to be a crock for them.  They don’t really trust anyone except the gang and each other.  Can we all agree that in musicals and movies, there's no evil, misguidedness or outrage like institutionalized evil, misguidedness or outrage?  (See the corrupt Beadle and the Judge from Sweeney Todd or the hopelessly lost Javert from Les Miserables). Heck, there's even a running theme of generational disconnect running through the fluffy Bye Bye Birdie.

 

I watched it.  It's still entertaining.  I promise.

 

 There’s really nothing more vital to being human, being American, being a critical thinker than questioning authority.  To be honest, it’s something the young often do far better than their elders.  In the very next scene, we see Clyde call out some of this BS.  When you try to do right, you often get screwed over or played for a fool anyway.  He’s more infuriated for the folks in the bank than even they are – yes, maybe because there’s no money for him to steal, but he’s calling out another level of thievery – corporate and institutional thievery, a type for which there really isn’t any justice.  What he’s doing is kind of small potatoes in comparison.  Not right, not just, but honestly dishonest. I appreciate the way both he and Bonnie are drawn.  We don’t have to root for them (you do, you know you do) – especially as killers – but we can see their desperation and determination and admire them for that.  I’d say the coldest fish in this show character-wise might be some of the law enforcement, including pretty much everyone Kent plays (sorry, Kent), most notably the hard-nosed Hamer. 

You couple their somewhat righteous indignation (“tell ‘em, Clyde”) and their thirst for fame, and you have the same heady blend the kids were high on in the rock n’ roll 1950s and the hippie and civil rights-era 60s. If Bonnie can’t have fame, she can have infamy and still get autographs. Who says this generation is the most self-indulgent and navel-gazing yet?  There’s always been plenty of that. 



You guys.  This was totally the autofill Google gave me.  Google, you judgmental bitch!

I’m excited to see how these scenes will come together, with Bonnie and Clyde as the colorful and lively Oz to our beaten-down Kansas.  After all, short as their lives were, they were both very much alive while they lived.  In our own American folklore, we've always been fascinated by the James Deans, the ones who live fast, die young and leave a good looking corpse.  And sadly, it completes their story for them to have flamed out like they did.  Who wants to read a memoir by an elderly, impotent and reformed Clyde or a chastened, tired old Bonnie?  They didn't have to die...but for their legend, sadly, they needed to.  I think that's why we begin and end on their end, but in between we get a bumpy ride - thanks to Bonnie and Clyde.