21 April 2024

"The Courage to Produce: A Conversation on High School Censorship"

by Allison Considine, Jessica Lit, Jordan Stovall, and Nadine Smith 

[On 30 July 2023, I posted “Censorship on School Stages,” my take on a trend that had been developing across the United States for over a year at that time.  The Rick On Theater post was inspired by newspaper reports such as the Washington Post’s “The culture war’s latest casualty: The high school musical” by Hannah Natanson (2 May 2023) and “On School Stages, Politics Plays a Leading Role” by Michael Paulson in the New York Times (4 July 2023). 

[“Censorship on School Stages” (Rick On Theater: Censorship on School Stages) was my first post focusing specifically on school censorship of theater, but I’d blogged on censorship, suppression, and other forms of repression of the freedom of expression in numerous other articles, including “Degrading the Arts” (13 August 2009), ”The First Amendment & The Arts” (8 May 2010), “Disappearing Theater” (19 July 2010), “‘The Arts Are Under Attack (Again!)’” by Paul Molloy (22 May 2011), “Culture War” (6 February 2014), and “The First Amendment & The Arts, Redux” (13 February 2015), among others.

[Over the years since I started ROT, which just passed its 15th anniversary last 16 March, I’ve established an ad hoc series on the accommodation of theater and the arts in our society.  Sometimes I addressed this topic directly, and sometimes I addressed a closely related subject, such as arts funding or arts education.

[At this juncture, let me quote myself (in slightly reformatted form) from “The First Amendment & The Arts,” just to make one thing clear before you read this article on my blog:

I ought to confess here that I’m pretty much a First Amendment absolutist.  One of my favorite theater lines is from Peter Stone and Sherman Edwards’s musical 1776.  Stephen Hopkins, the iconoclastic and cantankerous delegate from Rhode Island, declares, when asked to vote for or against an open debate on independence, declares: “Well, I’ll tell y’—in all my years I never heard, seen, nor smelled an issue that was so dangerous it couldn’t be talked about.  Hell yes, I’m for debatin’ anything . . . !”

That fairly well sums up my feelings: we should be allowed to talk about anything in this society, even stuff most other people don’t want to hear.  The only proper response to speech we don’t like is more speech.  You don’t cut people off when you don’t like what they’re saying, you debate them.

[“‘The Courage to Produce,’” which is a conversation between Nadine Smith and Jessica Lit, ran in the Winter 2024 issue of American Theatre (40.2), and was also posted at AMERICAN THEATRE | The Courage to Produce: A Conversation on High School Censorship on 1 April 2024.  (American Theatre, now a quarterly magazine, is published by the Theatre Communications Group, an organization for non-profit theater companies in the U.S.)

[Nadine Smith, a former journalist, is the Executive Director of Equality Florida, the state’s largest organization dedicated to ending discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity.  In 2022, she was named to the Time 100, Time magazine’s annual list of the 100 most influential people in the world

[An award-winning journalist turned organizer, Smith was one of four national co-chairs of the 1993 March on Washington.  She was part of the historic meeting with then-President Bill Clinton (42nd President of the United States: 1993-2001) on 16 April 1993, the first Oval Office meeting between a sitting president and LGBTQ community leaders.  She served on the founding board of the International Gay and Lesbian Youth Organization.

[Smith, who lives in St. Petersburg (which she calls “St. Pete”) with her wife Andrea and son Logan, is a Florida Chamber Foundation Trustee and served on President Barack Obama’s (44th President of the United States: 2009-17) National Finance Committee.  She’s been named one of her state’s “Most Powerful and Influential Women” by the Florida Diversity Council and has received the League of Women Voters’ Woman of Distinction Award.  In 2018, she was named one of the 100 Most Influential Floridians by Influence Magazine, a magazine of Florida politics.  She currently serves as chair of the Florida Advisory Committee to the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights.

[Equality Florida is a political advocacy group that promotes civil rights and protections for LGBTQ residents of Florida.  Equality Florida was formed in 1997 by Smith and Stratton Pollitzer, an expert in LGBTQ non-profit development, just before Governor Jeb Bush took office (1999-2007) and Florida's state government became considerably more conservative.  

[A former actor, Jessica Lit is the Director of Business Affairs of the Dramatists Guild.  She’s an intellectual property and entertainment attorney with a focus on empowering artists of diverse backgrounds and disciplines to take control of their careers by educating them about their legal rights.  She recently decided to channel that interest into launching a solo practice, The Lit Esquire PLLC, aimed at doing just that. 

[Lit has a strong background in the arts, having earned her B.A. in theater performance from New York City’s Fordham University in 2011 before she went on to start a theater company with fellow classmates that focused on producing works exclusively written by women.  

[After stepping away from performing, Jessica earned her real estate license in New York and worked for three years as a full-time agent under several high-profile brokerages in New York City, where she specialized in working with performing artists to help find their first apartments in the city.

[While she no longer performs as a career, Lit has stayed involved in the arts in any way she can, including serving as a co-producer on a weekly magic show on New York City’s Upper West Side from 2014 to 2015 and appearing in an episode of The Perfect Murder (2017-18) on Investigation Discovery, a cable channel dedicated to true crime documentaries.

[Lit earned her Juris Doctor (J.D. – Doctor of Law) degree in 2019  from Benjamin N. Cardozo School of Law of Yeshiva University in New York City with a concentration in intellectual property.  While at Cardozo, she facilitated student-led discussions sponsored by the Office of Diversity and Inclusion, was an active member of the Moot Court Honor Society, and served as Problem Editor for the 2019 BMI Entertainment and Communications Law Moot Court Competition.  Jessica was admitted to the New York State Bar in 2020 and recently relocated to her hometown of Charlotte, North Carolina.]

A dialogue on how students, teachers, and parents can push back against a wave of conservative legislation and intimidation that threatens to chill theatrical expression.

The kooky, macabre musical The Addams Family was named the most-produced tuner on U.S. high school stages for the 2022-23 school year. But there will be at least one less mysterious and spooky production for next year’s tally since a Pennsylvania school board voted to cancel a 2024 production, citing the show’s “dark themes.” [This instance was an example in “Censorship on School Stages.”]

Since 1938, the Educational Theatre Association (EdTA) has polled theatre educators to identify the most-produced musicals and plays, but its latest survey also measured the impact of a troubling resurgence of censorship. A whopping 67 percent of educators told EdTA they are weighing potential controversies when they make show selections—and with good reason. 

In recent years, a so-called “parents’ rights” movement has staked a claim in controlling the K-12 curriculum, leading to a surge of banned books and restrictions on performances. Florida’s House Bill 1069, which restricts media with sexual content, has even put Shakespeare’s oeuvre under scrutiny. Many lessons now only excerpt the Bard’s plays rather than teach them in full. As part of a counter-movement, the New York Public Library recently launched the Books for All initiative, making censored playscripts and musical libretti available online to teenagers nationwide.

[Considine is slightly misleading here. NYPL is not supplying censored books in the sense that the texts to which the library is providing access are edited or abridged. NYPL is providing online access to the original texts of books, plays, and libretti that have been banned elsewhere.]

The polarized political climate has only added to the backstage drama at high school theatre auditoriums, the latest arena for the culture wars. Parents and school board members are challenging show choices, requesting script changes, and outright canceling student productions with social or political themes, especially LGBTQ+ content. Last year, a Florida school gained traction on social media after canceling a production of Indecent, which centers on a queer Jewish romance. [This case of censorship is also in my post.] And last fall an Illinois school board canceled a production of The Prom, a musical about a group of Broadway actors who travel to a conservative town to help a lesbian student banned from bringing her girlfriend to the prom—though in response to uproar over the decision, the show will in fact go on this spring.

In Indiana, students took matters into their own hands, independently staging the gender-bending play Marian, or the True Tale of Robin Hood after a school canceled the production for its LGBTQ+ themes. An Ohio school requested 23 revisions before staging The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, removing explicit language and the mention of gay characters. A Texas school board canceled a school field trip in response to a social media post accusing a production of James and the Giant Peach that featured actors playing both male and female roles as being a form of “drag.”

This disheartening trend of censoring playscripts and productions coincides with an uptick in conservative legislation aiming to limit queer representation in the classroom. The ACLU is currently tracking a staggering 233 schools and education bills that directly target LGBTQ+ rights and expression.

This threat of censorship not only robs theatre kids of time in the limelight; it also deprives young students in the audience of the opportunity to witness different human experiences. It targets educators and their beliefs and impacts how—and what—they teach. These attacks also affect dramatists and composers, whose works are being amended and pulled from libraries and stages.

Censorship was a major theme of the 2023 EdTA conference in St. Pete Beach, Fla., where middle and high school theatre educators gathered last September. The programming included “The Courage to Produce,” two sessions curated by Jordan Stovall, the director of Outreach and Institutional Partnerships at the Dramatists Guild of America (DG), about navigating controversies and best practices for educators. The sessions were inspired by the Dramatists Legal Defense Fund’s “Dramatic Changes: A Toolkit for Producing Stage Works on College Campuses in Turbulent Times.” The following excerpt from a conversation between Jessica Lit, the DG’s director of business affairs, and Nadine Smith, co-founder and executive director of Equality Florida, has been edited for length and clarity.

                                                       Illustration for American Theatre by Colin Tom

JESSICA LIT: Welcome to “The Courage to Produce.” If you’re not familiar with the DG, we are a national trade association for playwrights, librettists, lyricists, and composers, and our mission is to aid dramatists in protecting the artistic and economic integrity of our work. Our sister organization, the DLDF, was created in 2011 to advocate and educate and provide resources in defense of the First Amendment. Since its inception, it’s been an active voice in supporting institutions which have been the targets of attacks on free speech, including the recent cancellation of Indecent at Douglas Anderson School of the Arts in Jacksonville, Fla. The DLDF also recently partnered with the EdTA to establish standards for protecting free expression when theatrical works are taught in educational institutions.

Today I am joined by the co-founder and executive director of Equality Florida, Nadine Smith. Equality Florida is Florida’s statewide civil rights organization dedicated to securing full equality for Florida’s lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer community. Would you like to talk a little bit about Equality Florida and introduce yourself?

NADINE SMITH: Good morning. I live in St. Pete, and we founded Equality Florida when we realized that we were doing lots of local work, but this place called Tallahassee [the capital of the state of Florida], out in the middle of nowhere, was where big decisions were being made that impacted our lives. Actually, we’ve been around for 27 years—formally in January of ’97, but we existed before then.

For decades, we held at bay all of the anti-LGBTQ+ legislation in Florida. But 20 years of increasingly extreme Republican control of every level of government has sort of metastasized with [Donald] Trump [45th President of the United States: 2017-21] and [Ron] DeSantis [Governor of Florida since 2019]. And so we saw in these last two years what began first and foremost as an attack on the transgender community, trans kids in particular, and we also saw a whitewashing of history—no more racist dog whistles; it is a foghorn. We’ve seen bodily autonomy attacked in every way, from abortion bans to banning access to medical care for the trans community, and a stripping away of rights.

One of the ways that’s shown up most visibly has been the banning of books and theatre. I think it’s important for people to understand that this isn’t some movement that has grown organically from concerns raised by parents. The Florida legislature wrote the law in such a way that any resident of the county, they don’t even have to be a parent, can get any book pulled off the shelf in Florida. It’s a de facto ban even when it’s not a technical ban—i.e., schools fear they are vulnerable to lawsuits if they don’t remove books preemptively.

We were talking earlier about, how often do you think of eras in American history, where we see these book bans, a clamping down on art? And what else usually arrives with that? We have to raise the alarm at how perilous this moment is, at how normalized things that should be not just abnormal but hideous to us have become. You know, when they banned The Life of Rosa Parks, we were like, “This is outrageous.” And now it’s like, yeah, there were just another 10,000 titles pulled off shelves.

[The Life of Rosa Parks by Kathleen Connors (Gareth Stevens Classroom, 2013) was pulled from second grade classrooms in the Duval County public school district in Florida in 2022.]

I’m a Shakespearean actor, paid for it as well. In schools in Florida, they will not do Shakespeare because of how many gender-reversed roles there are in Shakespeare plays. So they will do excerpts.

JESSICA: Thank you, Nadine. I’m going to introduce myself. I’m the director of business affairs for the DG, and I do a lot of advocacy work. I also help in creating resources for educators, and for our members, to help advocate for their rights in the industry.

We’re all here because we love theatre and its ability to bring people together to tell stories that may not have been told, to be a vehicle for change. We understand that censorship and cancellations aren’t new. They’ve been around for as long as stage plays have been around. But as Nadine has just talked about, there are new trends, and it’s not just angry voices. It’s legislation coming down from our local, our state, our federal governments that we need to start thinking about as we enter this new era.

Today there is proposed, pending, and passed legislation in many states. Nadine, you talked a little bit about the book banning that’s happening in Florida, but is there other legislation that theatre educators should be aware of as they move through this new time?

NADINE: Yeah, bans on drag queens or drag performances. The insinuation is that any time somebody is performing in drag, it is inappropriate for children to be present. So if you bring your child to a play like Twelfth Night, have you brought them to a drag show? Have you exposed them to a dangerous ideology that will play “tug of war” with their gender identity?

In Florida there was a program at a theatre in Orlando, similar to a drag Christmas. They ended up putting on tickets for the first time that no one under 18 was allowed. The governor insisted that law enforcement be present. They left the theatre and said nothing untoward occurred, nothing inappropriate. The governor went after their beverage license anyway, claiming that the language on the ticket was printed too small to be of value, and that even though there was nothing sexually inappropriate, the fact that there were people performing opposite of their gender was sufficient to pull their license. They only just settled with three businesses; one of them was Hamburger Mary’s [a restaurant that presents a “family-friendly drag show”]. People are touting it as a win, but the chilling effect is very real.

The chilling effect is intentionally vague so that it casts a big shadow. The impulse is to go, “I don’t want any problems. I will do the least dangerous thing. I will do the thing that is so far from the line that I can’t get caught up even in their overzealous prosecution.” And slowly, the impact of that, not the actual letter of the law, begins to create the worst kind of censorship, which is self-censorship, where we don’t even permit ourselves to think things or pursue things because of a fear of what that vagueness might ensnare.

In the same way they say sunlight is the best disinfectant, ensure that anything which is vague is made concrete. Say to them: “Would you put in writing why this play is impermissible by law?” Six months from now, that could be the most important document in a lawsuit. Make them be explicit about why. And if you’re in a place where these restrictions aren’t being put and you’re not constrained by them, I would say, make sure that you’re building this into all of your performances.

It’s a time for courage. You might be that person in your school district, in your institution, along the chain who’s going to disrupt people sinking to the path of these resistances.

JESSICA: I think what you highlighted specifically is that schools are where kids are being introduced to ideas and cultures for the first time, and we shouldn’t shy away from introducing them to these cultures and different opinions and different viewpoints and different lifestyles because we’re afraid that they can’t handle it. If anyone can handle it, it’s young minds who haven’t been exposed to the discrimination, the hate, and all those things yet. This is actually a great segue to our next question for you.

[Jessica Lit addresses the lessons students can learn from being exposed to a variety of plays, a subject I introduce in “Censorship on School Stages,” but I also write about the unwelcome lessons the efforts to suppress and censor what students can see or read in secondary school can teach.]

Can you speak about the importance of addressing topics of queer identity, relationships, self-actualization in the classroom? We know that high school and middle school theatre is an entry point for many kids who identify with the LGBTQ+ community. 

NADINE: You know, I am 58. I know, I look good. [Laughter.] I remember being young, being fearful, and being homophobic to try to put people off the trail, especially playing basketball and softball. I had to throw out a lot of diversionary tactics, though not very effectively. So I understand how internalized homophobia shows up as bigotry in the world. And all of that is by way of saying that, I felt an extraordinary amount of isolation. And there are a lot of young people who do not survive that level of isolation. The suicide rate among LGBTQ+ young people is often talked about, but there’s also the homeless rate, the dropout rate, the self-medicating rate, when you have no place you can turn and the only places that you spend the majority of your time, which are school and home, are hostile environments—the world gets very small very fast.

Representation and visibility are literally life-saving. I want to ring the alarm bell so loudly. The dangerous normalization of these hideous laws has created a world in which young people are watching their favorite teachers who created safety for them leave the profession. They’re seeing empty spaces on bookshelves. All of the books are being taken out of classrooms because they haven’t gone through the approval process. Even donating books that reflect different experiences is no longer permitted.

For people who live in other states, start organizing. In Illinois, they passed a ban on book bans. It’s important that there be a countervailing message, and in places where you’re not having to fend off these attacks, go on the offensive and make a big deal. Vilify what’s happening in Florida and other states. We have to take it that seriously and not just wait until the wolf is at the door.

JESSICA: Thank you. I’m actually going to take a question out to those in the room. How many of you have faced challenges when you’re teaching or presenting works? Or had students come to you asking questions about the current legislative landscape that we’re living in? 

A show of hands indicates there are educators present that have experienced this. One educator in a Catholic school speaks on the particular challenges they faced with administration when attempting to cast a transgender child in a production, and navigating bringing works by different artists into the classroom. 

NADINE: The only purpose of this is to create moral panic. It’s a playbook, and it plays out again and again. Because we haven’t gone through the conciliation process required of our history, we have all of these unexamined and unresolved ways of dealing with difference in America that show up episodically as this massive backlash.

There’s a professor at Boston University named Stephen Prothero and he’s written several books. One of them is about this phenomenon. He says the backlash is a lagging indicator of how much progress we’ve made. The only reason they’re going after us is because young LGBTQ+ people are visible, do feel like they have a place in the world, are showing up as their full selves in school, are finding a support network among their teachers. And so, basically, he says, by the time the backlash arrives, the cultural tipping point has already come.

I think of it as a slingshot, where they are grabbing that slingshot and they’re walking us backwards. But what they don’t realize is they’re creating this dynamic tension that will leave their grip. We won’t just go back to where we were when they attacked. We’re going to propel forward into a world that looks much more like one that includes all of us.

Another educator speaks about the experience of dealing with community-wide controversy and issues with their administration over a production of To Kill a Mockingbird.

NADINE: I think we have to come out of the closet and tell these stories, share much more of how these things are happening. Every time we make them shut things down or we make them explain, we also are kind of showing this universe of people how to fight back.

One university in Florida was told they had to take down the university’s equity and inclusion policy. And what they did was they said, “Here’s our former diversity, equity, and inclusion policy. We have been ordered by the state to remove it. So we want you to know that this is no longer our diversity, equity, and inclusion policy.” Of course, then everybody read their diversity, equity, and inclusion policy. 

I’m saying we’ve got to be creative. I love that you keep taking it back to the students and saying, How do we tell this lesson that teaches them how to navigate? Coming up with these ideas and strategies that don’t put students in the position of, “Hey, I’m going to defend you, I’m going to risk it all to defend you,” which is one instinct, but rather, “You’re not powerless in the face of this. They can’t stop your voice. They can’t stop your TikTok. They can’t stop your message online. Here’s the phone call to PEN America, you may go to the Dramatist Legal Defense Fund, or here are the articles that have been written that can contextualize this. Here’s the background on these organizations that are systematically going after art.” By showing them these things, I think they’re going to emerge into society as people who don’t quietly capitulate. They want you to be fearful.

NADINE: Even though young people are experiencing these really ugly, fascistic impulses that are curtailing their rights, how you guide them in those moments may produce more of what we need in this world.

Another educator speaks on their experiences with censorship, community backlash, and having books and plays removed from their school’s library system after attempting to add them to the curriculum. 

NADINE: We started a group called Parenting with Pride precisely because [of issues like these]. One of the things I encourage is to be proactive and work with the PTA, work with the parents’ groups, work with the parents of the students in whatever you’re creating. And say, “Listen, I don’t know if you’re even watching these timelines, but this atmosphere has developed where one parent will complain on opening night, try and shut down all of the hard work of your kid, and we really need to be in this together.” Which is a thing you probably never would have had to do or think about, but in this atmosphere, we have to go on the offense and we have to engage parents so that it’s not a mom consciously defending the virtues of children from sinister forces.

JESSICA: I want to speak a little bit about the First Amendment. It is different in high schools and middle schools than it is on college campuses, because your students are minors. But the Supreme Court has said that students and teachers do not shed their constitutional rights at the schoolhouse gate. That is from Tinker v. Des Moines [I describe this case briefly in my 2023 post]. It’s a well-established freedom in our country.

I want to encourage all of you to use your voices to speak up, because while there is limited academic freedom, school boards and school administrations have a wider discretion in determining what kinds of materials can be taught. Discretion does not mean that they can censor something because they’re hostile to the ideas that are presented. There has to be a legitimate educational purpose for why they are removing or moving something.

I’ll take the example of evolution. They may say, you know what, maybe fifth graders aren’t prepared to understand this concept so we’re going to move it to the eighth grade curriculum. That’s okay, but to say we’re not going to teach evolution because we don’t believe in evolution, we don’t understand evolution—that’s unacceptable.

Also, speaking about personal freedom as it relates to you as teachers: Nadine talked about organizing in your community, using your voice outside of schools. They can only really go after you if what you are doing outside of school is substantially and materially disrupting what’s happening in schools. So if you are going on your social media, you are organizing in your communities and creating protests outside of the school grounds or encouraging your students to do the same, you have that right under the First Amendment. I really want to make sure that you’re aware of that. Even though you are in a different situation with schools, it doesn’t mean that you’re now completely eradicated of your First Amendment rights. It’s something to really think about as you move forward.

And creating allies, not just with your parents and the kids, but within your community. One of the things that DLDF has done is rally people to attend school board meetings. Not just parents, but members of the community or people who care. Recently there was a cancellation of The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee in Ohio. We put out a statement, and many people attended a virtual school board meeting. The show went back on. It wasn’t parents that were even local to Ohio. It was people who care about theatre, people who care about seeing different points of views.

When these things happen, don’t think that you are isolated. Don’t think you’re alone. Think about the educators who are sitting here today. Think about the work that Equality Florida is doing. Come talk to us at the DG. We will do everything we can to help. We put out many statements, but we also have tried to help students find different venues to put a show on. There are resources available for you. Take advantage of them.

It’s a scary time, but the louder we can be, the better.  

To find out more about the Dramatists Guild, including the rights theatre writers have against censorship and cancellation of their work, visit www.dramatistsguild.com.

To find out more about the Dramatists Legal Defense Fund [DLDF], find out how to support this work, or to reach out regarding additional resources including “Dramatic Changes: A Toolkit for Producing Stage Works on College Campuses in Turbulent Times,” visit www.thedldf.org.

To learn more about Equality Florida, find out how to support this work, or to reach out regarding additional resources, visit http://equalityflorida.org/.

[Jordan Stovall/Wanda Whatever (they/them) is a playwright, arts administrator, queer events producer, and drag artist based in London.  They presently serve as the Director of Outreach & Institutional Partnerships for the Dramatists Guild, where they have worked since January 2016.

[Stovall’s plays have been shortlisted and selected as Finalists for the Eugene O’Neill Playwrights Festival and Relentless Award, among others.  They have studied playwriting and have received artistic mentoring from the likes of Tina Howe, Tanika Gupta, Ola Animashawun, Deborah Zoe Laufer, Michele Lowe, Stefanie Zadravec, Gary Garrison, and more.  

[Stun premièred at The Cockpit Theatre in London after several developmental public showcases in the U.S. and U.K.; corpus premièred at the Midtown International Theatre Festival in New York following its showing at the Manhattan Reading Competition; Aviary premièred at the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama after a showing as part of LGBTQ+ Tiny Shows at Omnibus Theatre.  They are a Resident of the Hamilton Project IX at the Barn Arts Collective.

[As a drag artist, Stovall is the founder and executive producer of the Time Out London Award-Nominated Boulangerie: A Queer Variety Show, and FUSSY, a bi-monthly ongoing party and series of queer community gatherings/arts-focused events at Dalston Superstore (formerly in residence at The Yard Theater, Hackney Wick).  

[They can be seen on upcoming miniseries Pistol on FX directed by Danny Boyle and Meet the Richardsons (BBC Studios).  They have performed in Bushwig NYC and Bushwig Berlin festivals, Sink the Pink, were a finalist in Season 1 and winner of the Christmas edition of drag competition The Gold Rush at The Glory.  They regularly perform in multiple venues across London (Dalston Superstore, Royal Vauxhall Tavern, The White Swan, etc.), as well as New York venues such as The Rosemont, Hardware, Club Cumming, Metropolitan, The Duplex, The West End, and more.

[They are Program Manager for the New Visions Fellowship, founding Co-Administrator for End of Play, National Playwriting Month, and founding Executive Administrator of the Dramatists Guild Institute.

[Stovall has an MFA in Writing in the Stage and Broadcast Media from the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama in London (2019) and a BA in Theatre/Performing Arts from Florida’s University of Tampa (2011).

[Allison Considine, who wrote the introduction to this dialogue transcript, is the senior editor of American Theatre.  She studied literature and cultural studies and theater arts at New York City’s Pace University.  She is a Brooklyn-based writer and editor whose writing has appeared in American Theatre magazine, Backstage, Broadway Style Guide, and TDF Stages.  She contributed to the book American Theatre Wing, An Oral History: 100 Years, 100 Voices, 100 Million Miracles (American Theatre Wing, 2018), a 100-year history on the celebrated organization behind the Tony Awards.

[After college, Considine took a sidestep from acting and turned her attention to arts journalism, which allows her to explore the creative process behind the stage magic.  She enjoys connecting with emerging theater professionals educators about theater training—and, of course, seeing it all come together on stage.]


16 April 2024

"'The Last Yiddish Speaker': Who They'll Come For First"

by Julia M. Klein 

[Deborah Laufer’s latest play, The Last Yiddish Speaker, is about anti-Semitism (I’ll add more detail on this shortly), and Julia M. Klein’s article from the section called “On The Scene” of American Theatre magazine, was posted on AT’s website (AMERICAN THEATRE | ‘The Last Yiddish Speaker’: Who They’ll Come for First) on 9 April 2024, six months after the terrorist assault by Hamas on Israel last 7 October and the start of the consequent war in Gaza.

[But, as you read Klein's article, you’ll learn that the play, written before last year’s Hamas attack, reaches back not just to the rise of anti-Semitism and Christian Nationalism in the United States in recent months and years—in April 2024, the Anti-Defamation League reported that anti-Semitic acts increased 140% in 2023 over the previous year—but to 6 January 2011, and even 11 September 2001.

[According to a synopsis of the play published on playbill.com, The Last Yiddish Speaker’s tells this story:

In the years following a successful January 6th insurrection, a white supremacist regime has come into power.  Paul and his teenage daughter, Sarah, live under the radar in a small town upstate as Christian-passing, despite being Jews who fled New York City.  When an ancient[,] Yiddish-speaking woman arrives on their doorstep, Paul and Sarah are forced to decide between fleeing again or fighting for their faith, their heritage and their identity.

[Deborah Zoe Laufer grew up in Liberty, New York, a town of a little over 10,000 inhabitants in Sullivan County in the Catskill Mountains.  (She currently lives in Mount Kisco, New York, a town of about 11,000 in Westchester County, a suburb of New York City about 43 miles north of the city.) 

[She has described her childhood as living in a small town, growing up in the woods, and raising animals.  She had an early interest in theater, and a lifelong goal to be an actress and a stand-up comic.  She studied acting at the State University of New York at Purchase.  

[Laufer worked as an actress along with other subsistence jobs.  She was a member of the Polaris North Theatre Company in New York City, an actors’ cooperative, when she became pregnant with her first son.  During the pregnancy, she wrote her first play, Miniatures, and performed in it at Polaris North.  It was produced at a few small theaters after that, including the Wedge at the Hangar Theater in Ithaca, New York (2002).

[She submitted the play to the Missoula Colony writer’s workshop in Montana, where it drew the attention of playwright Marsha Norman.  Norman invited her to study playwriting at the Juilliard School, where Norman taught.  Laufer accepted the invitation and graduated from Juilliard in 2000.

[Laufer’s plays have been produced at the Steppenwolf Theatre Company, Cincinnati Playhouse in the Park, Cleveland Playhouse, Geva, The Humana Festival, Everyman, Primary Stages, Ensemble Studio Theatre, and hundreds of other theaters around the world.  In addition to full-length straight plays, she’s written dozens of short plays, and two musicals, Window Treatment, and By Any Other Name, written with composer Daniel Green.

[Besides Juilliard, Laufer’s an alumna of the BMI Lehman Engel Advanced Musical Theatre Workshop, and she’s a Dramatists Guild Council member.  She’s also a recipient of the Helen Merrill Playwriting Award, the Lilly Award, the ATCA Steinberg citation, and grants and commissions from the National Endowment for the Arts, the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation, the Edgerton Foundation, the National New Play Network, and the Lincoln Center Foundation. 

[Her work has been developed by the Eugene O’Neill Playwrights Conference, Theatre Lab, PlayPenn, the Cherry Lane Alternative, the Missoula Colony, LOCAL Theatre, Asolo Rep, the Baltic Playwrights Conference, and more. Her plays are published or recorded by Concord/Samuel French, Smith and Kraus, Playscripts, LA Theatreworks, and Premieres.]

Deborah Zoe Laufer’s new play, now kicking off its rolling world premiere at Philadelphia’s InterAct Theatre, imagines an eerily plausible fascist future.

When Seth Rozin, founding artistic director of Philadelphia’s InterAct Theatre Companyfirst read Deborah Zoe Laufer’s The Last Yiddish Speaker about a year ago, “I immediately thought it was important,” he recalled recently. “It was timely, a really solid play that has a great story with characters that anyone could care about, very relatable, but also with some unique magic.”

Timely indeed: The drama is set in a near-future dystopian Christian Nationalist America in which the coup of Jan. 6, 2021, succeeded, and ethnic, ideological, and religious conformity is enforced at gunpoint. Its characters are a Jewish father and daughter passing as Christian; the daughter’s initially unsuspecting boyfriend; and a mysterious older woman who embodies a millennium of Jewish history and tradition.

World events have since given the play’s conflicts an even sharper edge. With the war in Gaza, increasing public expressions of antisemitism, and the prospect of a second Donald Trump presidency, The Last Yiddish Speaker is “much more than timely, but frankly urgent,” said Rozin, who also directs. “It’s a vital play, a necessary play, to remind us of the stakes when outside events poke at our biases and push people into a corner.”

A Lucille Lortel Theatre commission and a finalist in the Jewish Plays Project, The Last Yiddish [Speaker]’s InterAct bow (March 29-April 21 [2024]) is the first in a National New Play Network rolling world premiere. Additional productions are planned at Oregon Contemporary Theatre in Eugene (Oct. 23-Nov. 10) and Theatre Lab at Florida Atlantic University in Boca Raton (Oct. 23-Nov. 17), where Laufer herself will direct.

[According to its website (https://jewishplaysproject.org/), “The Jewish Plays Project identifies, develops, and presents new works of theater through one-of-a-kind explorations of contemporary Jewish identity between audiences, artists, and patrons.”  Furthermore, the site states that “The Jewish Playwriting Contest seeks to discover, highlight, and nurture contemporary Jewish drama by engaging with artistic and Jewish communities throughout the English-speaking world.

[Founded in 1998, the National New Play Network (https://nnpn.org/) is an “alliance of nonprofit theaters that champions the development, production, and continued life of new plays.”  The Rolling World Premiere is NNPN’s program for developing and producing new plays across the country.  Each RWP supports three or more theaters that choose to mount the same new play within a 12-month period, allowing the playwright to develop a new work with multiple creative teams in multiple communities.]

“I like to write about what it’s like to live in the time we’re in, and the time we’re in is shifting so quickly,” said Laufer, who lives in Mount Kis[c]o, N.Y. “I keep saying history rewrites my plays faster than I can.”

The Last Yiddish Speaker takes place in the fictional upstate New York town of Granville in 2029, in a world where Jews, gays, and others deemed outsiders are banished or killed, dissent is punished, and a recent edict forbids women from attending college. A frustrated Sarah, now known as Mary, and her more circumspect father, Paul, are at loggerheads about how to survive without losing themselves in the process.

The play’s surveillance state calls to mind George Orwell’s 1984 [1949], as well as the totalitarian regimes Orwell both satirized and prefigured. Laufer’s counterfactual premise also evokes Sinclair Lewis’s It Can’t Happen Here [1935] and two other novels later adapted for television: Philip Roth’s The Plot Against America [novel, 2004; HBO miniseries, 16 March-20 April 2020], in which the isolationist Charles Lindbergh defeats Franklin Roosevelt in 1940 and ushers in fascism, and Philip K. Dick’s The Man in the High Castle [novel, 1962; Amazon Prime Video streaming series, 2015-19]which imagines an America conquered by the Axis powers of World War II.

Laufer’s 90-minute one-act is among a spate of recent dramas and musicals dealing with antisemitism and the varieties of Jewish response, some epic in scale. Broadway has featured Tom Stoppard’s semi-autobiographical Leopoldstadt [on Broadway, 2 October 2022-2 July 2023; 2023 Best Play Tony and 2023 Outstanding Play Drama Desk Award], Joshua Harmon’s Prayer for the French Republic [9 January-3 March 2024], and Barry Manilow and Bruce Sussman’s Harmony: A New Musical [13 November 2023-4 February 2024], a tribute to the 1920s and ’30s German sextet the Comedian Harmonists.

Laufer mentions another similarly themed play, The Ally, by Itamar Moses [b. 1977; playwright, author, producer, and television writer], who happens to be a member of one of her three writing groups. Premiered this winter by New York’s Public Theater [27 February-7 April 2024], The Ally puts a progressive Jewish professor in the crosshairs of disputation about the Middle East.

But Laufer (whose plays include End Days [premièred at Florida Stage (West Palm Beach), 2007], Leveling Up [premièred at Cincinnati Playhouse in the Park, 2013], and Informed Consent [premièred at Geva Theatre (Rochester, New York), 2014]) said that the initial spark for The Last Yiddish Speaker wasn’t political at all: It was a podcast she heard about a Hawaiian bird on the verge of extinction.

“I was so moved by being the last one who speaks your language, or being the last of your species,” Laufer said. As with stories of “people being lost in space, it’s the loneliest feeling in the world.”

Laufer said her plays tend to emerge “from four or five things that I’ve been obsessing about.” In the case of The Last Yiddish Speaker, which she called “probably the least hopeful” of her works, those obsessions did include some political concerns, namely rising antisemitism and the Jan. 6 attack on the Capitol. The Last Yiddish Speaker is also a response to her first professional production, The Last Schwartz [premièred at Florida Stage, 2002]about the Jewish “fear of assimilation and how it tears families apart.   

“There is a criticism of Jews in the heart of that play,” said Laufer, who was raised in rural upstate New York “with a certain paranoia” about being Jewish. “I’ve evolved in the last 20 years. I feel more protective of my Judaism.”

Trained as an actor at SUNY [State University of New York] Purchase, Laufer also has worked as a standup comedian and a director. At a conference in Missoula, Mont. [the Missoula Colony writers; workshop of the Montana Repertory Theatre], Marsha Norman [b. 1947; playwright, screenwriter, and novelist] read a play Laufer submitted [Miniatures] and told her, “You know, you’re a playwright.” On her invitation, Laufer enrolled at the Juilliard School, where Norman headed the playwriting program. “It was the most amazing thing,” Laufer said, “and it changed my life.”

Laufer’s most successful play to date, End Days, inspired in part by 9/11, is a comic family drama featuring a collision between science and religion, as incarnated by the physicist Stephen Hawking [1942-2018; English; director of research at the Centre for Theoretical Cosmology at the University of Cambridge] and Jesus. It has received about 90 productions, she said.

In an earlier version of The Last Yiddish Speaker, the eponymous character of Aunt Chava was a more realistic figure—a woman in her 90s. A writer colleague told Laufer, “There’s something missing—it’s not a Deborah Laufer play.” Now Chava is 1,000 years old, a magical element that, to Laufer, makes the show “reverberate in a much larger way.” InterAct’s Chava is portrayed by Stephanie Satie, who coincidentally played Tevye’s daughter Chava in the original Broadway national tour of Fiddler on the Roof [1966-70].

Citing Rozin’s directorial input, Laufer described The Last Yiddish Speaker as comprising three love stories: “between a father and daughter, a boy and a girl, and then this old woman who’s passing on Judaism to this young woman.”

Continued Laufer, “I really see this play as Our Town [Thornton Wilder, 1938]—if there were a really dark backdrop. There still needs to be all the innocence and simplicity and joys and problems of living in a small town. All those things have to be just as alive in the play as the backdrop, which is so dark. I keep saying, ‘It’s Grover’s Corners [New Hampshire (fictional), population 2,642 in 1901-13]—let’s not lose that. It’s a small town and it’s young love.’ The sweetness of these relationships really needs to be emphasized.” In the InterAct production, Gabriel Elmore’s performance as John, the boyfriend torn between allegiance to the new world order and his love for the teenager he knows as Mary, captures that sweetness.

Laufer’s play poses a question, Rozin said, that isn’t limited to Jews, but that defines Jewish history: “The constant question that we ask at every place that we’ve settled is, ‘Do we fight, do we flee, or do we assimilate in order to survive?’” Each option entails some loss. The Last Yiddish Speaker, he said, is both a reminder “of what has been given up already” and, through the character of Chava, a suggestion of a “magical opportunity of reconnecting with your history, your culture, your language.”

“One of the things I like about this play is that it’s very specific,” Rozin said. But, like The Diary of Anne Frank, he said, it “comments on the larger issues of humanity and human nature. While it uses the specific history of Judaism, of the Jewish people and Jewish culture, the play is really about the challenges of living together in community going forward.”

[Commonly known as “The Diary of Anne Frank,” the actual journal was published in English translation as Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl in 1952. Its popularity inspired the 1955 play The Diary of Anne Frank by the screenwriters Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett, and they adapted it for the screen for the 1959 movie version. For a report on a pandemic-era Zoom performance of The Diary of Anne Frank, see The Diary of Anne Frank Online, 29 May 2020.]

[Julia M. Klein is a cultural reporter and critic in Philadelphia.]

 *  *  *  *

[After reading Klein’s article on Laufer’s play, I thought it would be interesting to see some of the published reviews of the Philadelphia première production.  My first selection—for obvious reasons, I think—is from The Forward, the New York City-based, English-language newspaper for a Jewish-American audience.  This review appeared on the website on 8 April 2024; coincidentally, the reviewer is Julia M. Klein.]

IN A CHRISTIAN NATIONALIST SURVEILLANCE STATE,
THE FEW REMAINING JEWS STRUGGLE TO SURVIVE
by Julia M. Klein 

Deborah Zoe Laufer’s ‘The Last Yiddish Speaker’ envisions a dystopian future for America

Deborah Zoe Laufer packs a suitcase full of themes into her passionate and timely new play, The Last Yiddish Speaker, currently running at Philadelphia’s InterAct Theatre Company.

In just 90 minutes, with only four characters, she artfully etches a dystopian world in which the Jan. 6 attack on the U.S. Capitol has triumphed. The terrifying result is a Christian Nationalist surveillance state that punishes dissent; banishes or kills Jews, gays and other outsiders; and forbids women from attending college or holding professional jobs.

Laufer’s characters — a Jewish father and daughter concealing their identity, the daughter’s unsuspecting boyfriend, and an older woman embodying the richness and trauma of Jewish history — must negotiate these perilous circumstances while somehow remaining true to themselves.

An experienced playwright (End Games, Leveling Up, Informed Consent, The Last Schwartz, among others), Laufer reveals the contours of her menacing future America, and the stakes of opposing its rules, only gradually and with considerable craft.

On Colin McIlvane’s realistic set, depicting a kitchen, living room and porch, 17-year-old Sarah (now known as Mary) and her father, Paul, argue about how to balance their safety with her ambitions. Disconnected from their heritage, they are passing as Christians in a small, rural upstate New York town, where they must accustom themselves to religious and social conformity, Big Brother-level intrusiveness, and firearms. On their walls, they display a portrait of Jesus Christ and two crucifixes — emblems of their disguise. 

The year is 2029, and the situation for women is deteriorating. Sarah is smart, feminist, frustrated and desperate for opportunity. Incautious and sick of concealment, she is willing to risk everything in a flight to Canada, still a free country, even if the border is protected by a wall.

Sarah admits to being “a loose cannon,” and in Kaitlyn Zion’s somewhat over-the-top performance it’s hard, initially, to fully embrace her. “You’re impossible,” her father says, with some justification. “Every day you leave this house I wonder what you’re gonna say that will get us killed.”

Dan Hodge’s terrified Paul, forever on edge, occupies the other end of their seesaw: He is the timid accommodationist, willing to compromise everything to keep his daughter safe — a stance that leads her to insult him as “weak.” He, too, has his reasons, not least the fate of his outspoken wife [daughter? (Paul’s wife disappeared mysteriously some years before the play.)].

Their survival depends, in part, on her handsome and besotted boyfriend, John (Gabriel Elmore), tasked (in a blatant conflict of interest) with surveilling their home for contraband items and thoughts. A representative of a noxious government, he is nevertheless sweet, sympathetic, and trying to do what he believes is right. Will he truly love Sarah, whom he escorts to both the prom and the gun range, or turn her in? John is the play’s pivot, and Elmore’s subtle, perfectly pitched performance elevates this production.

There is one more complication: the eponymous last Yiddish speaker. Dropped off mysteriously at Sarah and Paul’s doorstep, Aunt Chava (Stephanie Satie) represents the last millennium of Jewish tradition and identity, as well as everyone’s favorite Jewish immigrant relative. Her otherworldliness is signaled by Drew Billiau’s eerie lighting, sound designer Christopher Colucci’s music, and the layers of ethnic dress in which costume designer Katherine Fritz envelops her.

Satie, who played Tevye’s daughter Chava in the original Broadway national tour of Fiddler on the Roof, is haunting as this mysterious figure. Speaking a mix of Yiddish (some of it untranslated) and English, she gives the play much of its humor and poetry. Like Anne Frank, Aunt Chava must be hidden from authorities, putting Sarah and Paul at risk. But she is also a mentor: a purveyor of Yiddish jokes, Jewish prayers, pickles and magically appearing ritual objects.

Mostly written before Oct. 7 and the war in Gaza, The Last Yiddish Speaker is nevertheless very much of the moment. Laufer is attuned to the threat of Christian Nationalism, efforts to undermine democracy, and the judicial and legislative assault on women’s reproductive rights. She is equally passionate about the dangers of political polarization and the challenges of maintaining Jewish identity in a sometimes hostile world.

That is a lot to cram in, a heavy lift. But Rozin’s production mostly navigates the play’s transitions — some of them sudden — with grace, and leaves the audience appropriately shaken and stirred.

[Julia M. Klein, the Forward’s contributing book critic, has been a two-time finalist for the National Book Critics Circle’s Nona Balakian Citation for Excellence in Reviewing.]

*  *  *  *

[On the blog Burd Reviews, Frank Burd posted the following notice on 7 April 2024.]

THE LAST YIDDISH SPEAKER AT INTERACT THEATRE COMPANY
by Frank Burd
 

An old, Yiddish speaking woman, lands on the steps of the home of Mary and Paul in upstate New York. It is 2027, and they have fled from New York City in the wake of a successful January 6th rebellion that has brought a white supremacist regime into power. They are Jewish, passing as Christians in this small town. Interact Theatre is presenting the world premiere of “The Last Yiddish Speaker,” by Deborah Zoe Laufer at the Drake. It is engaging, suspenseful, and powerful as we watch a father and his 17-year-old daughter try to figure out how to reply, not just to the woman, but to the events around them.

The play begins in the home where Paul (Dan Hodge) and Mary (Katlyn Zion) live. Hung on the walls are crucifixes and a portrait of jesus. But we soon learn that they are trying to blend into a society that doesn’t know their true identities. Mary’s real name is Sarah.

The third major player before the woman arrives is John (Gabriel Elmore), a good-looking young man who is in Mary’s senior class in high school. They have serious crushes on each another, and he is to be taking her to the senior prom. But not only does he not know of Mary’s real identity, he is also part of the youth group that seeks to root out all those who oppose the regime. They are seeking “to take the country back” from the Jews, the gays, the non-whites, and even the women, who are prohibited from attending college. When the old woman, Chava (Stephanie Satie) arrives, they cannot let John know about her and they hide her in the basement. Paul doesn’t even want to keep her there, lest their true backgrounds be revealed.

So who is this old woman? She says she is Mary’s great aunt. She says she’s been married over a dozen times. She says she lived 1000 years ago. The only things we can be reasonably sure about is that she is Jewish and speaks Yiddish. And that is a threat to Paul- revelation of hiding a Jew can lead to serious consequences and his only goal is to protect his daughter. Her mother, his wife, disappeared mysteriously a few years earlier.

Chava awakens in Mary a sense of what is means to be a Jew, and it threatens the precarious situation in which it challenges Paul’s attempt to let them “blend in” to their new life. She makes Mary laugh. She gives her a sense of history.

We are riveted for every moment of this 95-minute drama, but also the effective comedic touches that Laufer has given us, like the results from the downloading of the Yiddish app on Mary’s phone to understand what Chava is saying, before we realize it won’t be needed. And what will happen to many of the professions usually dominated by Jews if they are eliminated? But what struck me so powerfully were the brief descriptions of Jewish identity based upon the centuries of repression.

The ensemble is terrific- so honest, so real, so conflicted. From the challenging daughter to the protective father, from the questioning young suitor to the mysterious yet sweet old woman, they all create memorable characters. Director Seth Rozin does a superb job bringing this dystopian future play to life. I loved every minute!

*  *  *  *

[In the Broad Street Review, an arts and culture website with a mix of reviews and commentary, mostly about events and performances in the Philadelphia area, Josh Herren had a different response to Laufer’s new play.  His review appeared on the site on 9 April 2024.]

InterAct THEATRE COMPANY PRESENTS
DEBORAH ZOE LAUFER’S THE LAST YIDDISH SPEAKER
by Josh Herren 

Imagining life for Jews after a successful insurrection

There is a refrain often repeated by my Jewish mother, encapsulating the essence of our holidays: “They tried to kill us, they didn’t, let’s eat.” Existential terror has been a constant in the history of Judaism, spanning both ancient and modern times. In Deborah Zoe Laufer’s new play, The Last Yiddish Speaker, receiving a rolling world premiere at InterAct Theatre Company, this history is personified by a 1000-year-old Yiddish-speaking Bubbe named Chava. This character, funny and pragmatic, offers a striking glimpse into the specificity of Jewish generational trauma.

Unfortunately, these ideas are not able to fully develop in The Last Yiddish Speaker. The world of this play is an alternate near future in which the January 6 insurrection successfully overturned the 2020 presidential election. What this serves to do, besides raising my blood pressure, is to offer up a fictional world open to debate. Rather than following characters through a story, I found myself constantly second-guessing the world of this alternate future being created.

Tension and confusion

In this dystopian projection, set in 2029, the United States has transformed into a hyper-conservative, patriarchal white Christian nationalist ethno-state. Paul (Dan Hodge) and his daughter Sarah (Kaitlyn Zion), now using the name Mary, are living under new identities in a small New York town. There they must open their home, phones, and computers to frequent inspections by repressive agents of the state. Their inspector also happens to be Mary’s boyfriend, John (Gabriel Elmore). Amidst this tense situation, Aunt Chava (Stephanie Satie), a mysterious Jewish elder, arrives on their doorstep. Together, the family must decide how to navigate their identity and plan for their future.

Director Seth Rozin keeps the action moving. The ensemble members do their best to commit to a script that veers into the maudlin. In particular, Hodge delivers a nuanced performance as he wrestles with the dueling needs of safety and self-acceptance. Satie gives a surprisingly grounded performance as Chava. As written, Sarah is a puzzling character. She knows the grave stakes of being discovered yet is seemingly unable to keep her true feelings under the surface. Zion tries to thread the needle between these dimensions, but the character ultimately feels confused. This confusion strikes at the heart of The Last Yiddish Speaker: the play wants to serve as dramatic speculative/dystopian fiction while also using magical realism to explore Jewish identity. Ultimately, it achieves neither.

The possibility of solidarity

More problematically, its focus on the specificity of Jewish suffering in this particular narrative feels misguided. In the context of the story, Sarah and Paul have watched as immigrants, African Americans, liberals, and queer people have been exterminated. They are able to survive by suppressing their Jewishness and passing as white. The focus then on Judaism, in the midst of all that suffering, seems to ignore intersectional identities and the possibility of solidarity. As a queer Jewish person, I walk through the world with two identities. It felt disconcerting to have Jewishness seen as inherently tied to suffering, while violence against queer folks is handwaved away.

Colin McIlvaine’s set conveys the claustrophobia of this family’s situation and nails the small-town Christian aesthetic. The costumes by Katherine Fritz feel a bit dated, which is possibly a nod to the cyclical nature of fashion. She dresses Chava in layers of clothes that effectively symbolize her journey. Drew Billiau’s lights and Chris Colucci’s sound can veer into the cheesy as it tries to convey the play’s more magical elements.

[I’m a little surprised that none of the writers whose articles and reviews I read drew the analogy of the new life of Paul and Sarah/Mary to that of the Marranos, the secret Jews who lived outwardly as Catholics in 15th-century Spain during the Inquisition. 

[(I have a post, “Crypto-Jews: Legacy of Secrecy,” published on 15 September 2009, which relates the tale of some descendants of the secret Jews who traveled to the New World with the Conquistadors and settled in New Mexico, then part of New Spain, and only rediscovered their Jewish past in the late 20th century.)

[There also seems to be a resemblance between John, “Mary’s” boyfriend in The Last Yiddish Speaker, and Rolf, the young Hitler Youth in The Sound of Music who’s courting Liesl von Trapp (“You Are Sixteen”).  No one remarked on that, either.

[Maybe it’s just me.]


11 April 2024

More Responses To "Yes . . . But Is It Art?"

 

[My last post, “Responses to ‘Yes . . . But Is It Art?’” (published on Rick On Theater on 8 April), was an assemblage of articles, letters, and reviews published in the New York Times in response to Morley Safer’s broadcast on 60 Minutes on 19 September 1993.  The subject of the CBS News segment was, as readers of ROT will know, he state of art at the end of the 20th century (and, by implication, the beginning of the 21st).

[As I said when I posted the transcript of that 60 Minutes report (“‘Morley Safer’s Infamous 1993 Art Story,’” 2 April), Safer’s opinions raised he disapprobation of many in the art world, from art-lovers and collectors, to artists, to dealers, to critics and academics.  I promised to post some of that conversation—in some cases, admonitions—which is what the last post started.  This is the second installment of that part of this short series, covering the commentary from other outlets from across the country.] 

YES . . . BUT IS IT ART?:
MORLEY SAFER AND MURPHY BROWN TAKE ON THE EXPERTS
by Louis Torres and Michelle Marder Kamhi 

[This article first appeared in Aristos, a website that styles itself an online review of the arts and the philosophy of art, in June 1994.  (I made reference to it briefly in the afterword to “Morley Safer Defends His Take On Contemporary Art,” 5 April.)]

Twice in the past year, millions of American viewers had the pleasure of seeing the contemporary art establishment get its comeuppance on prime-time network television.

First, there was the segment entitled “Yes . . . But is it Art?” last September 19 on the long-running CBS newsmagazine 60 Minutes, which exposed the fraudulence of the contemporary work hyped by most dealers, critics, and curators—work ranging from so-called abstract art to a “piece” consisting of two basketballs submerged in a fish tank. Morley Safer, the intrepid reporter for the segment, aptly derided the art world’s impenetrable Artspeak, and deprecated the status-seeking collectors of such work by invoking the old adage “There’s a sucker born every minute.”

Four months later, on the January 17 [1994] episode [“The Deal of the Art“] of CBS’s popular Murphy Brown show, the sit-com’s fictional TV anchorwoman also mocked the fashionable art world, including its pseudo-artists. Undoubtedly inspired by the 60 Minutes segment and its aftermath, the Murphy Brown episode was as trenchant a social satire as any play by Molière—a witty denuding of intellectual pretension and charlatanry.

In one scene, Murphy, facing off against art “experts” on a PBS talk show (a scene modeled on Morley Safer’s appearance on the Charlie Rose show), ridiculed a work entitled Commode-ity, which was nothing more than an actual toilet affixed to a wall. The sit-com writer did not exaggerate. Commode-ity was no more bizarre than the real-life commodities of the postmodernist whose “artworks” consisting of urinals and sinks had been featured on 60 Minutes—or than the urinal that the early modernist Marcel Duchamp presented in 1917 as an artwork entitled Fountain.

[In reality, Duchamp never “presented” Fountain in the sense that he displayed it. It was rejected by the board of the Society of Independent Artists, for whose exhibition he submitted it. After that, it was lost and never seen in public. He had had Fountain photographed, which is why pictures of it are often published—and how reproductions of the original piece have been exhibited.]

In another scene, equally true to life, Murphy succeeded in passing off as a mature work by an unknown artist a painting by her eighteen-month-old son. The scene might well have been inspired by an event reported in the Manchester Guardian in February of last year [10 February 1993]. According to the Guardian, a “blob”-like painting by a four-year-old child was bought by a collector for £295 [$753 today] after being exhibited in the annual show of the Manchester Academy of Fine Arts. The child’s mother had submitted the work as a joke, and a panel of six experts, unaware of the age of the “artist,” had selected it because they thought it displayed “a certain quality of colour balance, composition and technical skill.”

In the final analysis, real life has been less satisfying than the sit-com, however. There is no reason to hope, for instance, that the Manchester Academy of Fine Arts will soon alter its selection criteria. When informed that a work by a four-year-old had been exhibited, the president of the academy was unperturbed. “The art of children often has a very uncluttered quality which adults often strive to gain,” she explained to BBC Radio 4, “so I don’t feel in the least embarrassed about it.” She then added, without flinching at the implicit contradiction of her expert panel’s judgment of the qualities they discerned in the work: “Technical skill can get in the way of instinctive response.”

Closer to home, the heated media debate that followed the airing of “Yes . . . But Is It Art?” on 60 Minutes fizzled out in a series of ill-considered letters by Morley Safer to the New York Times and other periodicals, and in his ineffectual sparring with Artspeak experts on the Charlie Rose show [see “Morley Safer Defends His Take On Contemporary Art”]. Safer lost the debate, not because the purported experts’ arguments made any sense but because he, despite the best of intentions, had no consistent argument at all.

In contrast, Murphy Brown prevailed, through witty barbs and an unshakable confidence in her own common sense. In a triumphant moment, Murphy’s co-anchor had earlier declared: “People have been waiting for someone to blow the whistle on this so-called art and the business that feeds on it. It’s a house of cards, and perhaps your piece will help bring it down.” As another of Murphy’s colleagues observed, she had won allies even among viewers who generally disagreed with her stance on other issues. Clearly, the question of what art is cuts across customary political and social lines.

Nevertheless, it will take far more than an exposé on 60 Minutes or an episode of Murphy Brown to topple this house of cards. Too much money and prestige are invested in it for its proponents to yield without a fierce struggle. Major cultural institutions and corporate sponsors—not to mention countless “artists,” dealers, collectors, curators, and critics—have their fortunes and reputations at stake.

What is needed to sweep the art world clean is not merely an intuitive sense of what art isn’t, but a well-reasoned and clearly articulated understanding of what art is. Unfortunately, one cannot look to the majority of today’s academic philosophers of art for guidance. The profession, by its own admission, is in a state of confusion on this question, owing in part to the on-going proliferation of what it euphemistically refers to as “unconventional” art forms. Indeed, the American Society for Aesthetics lamented in a winter 1993 position paper that the central question of esthetics—What is art?—has become “increasingly intractable,” with the result that the very viability of the field as a philosophic discipline is in jeopardy.

Because philosophers have shrunk from defining the concept, the terms “art” and “artist” are up for grabs. It has even become common for critics to resort to such absurdly circular propositions as “If an artist says it’s art, it’s art” (Roberta Smith in the New York Times [“It May Be Good But Is It Art?,” 4 September 1988]) and “Dances are dances and ballets are ballets simply because people who call themselves choreographers say they are” (Jack Anderson, also in the Times [“Just What Is This Thing Called Dance?” 12 August 1990]).

One thing is certain, however, and cannot be repeated often enough. Art, like everything else in the universe, has an identity, which can be objectively defined. An essential attribute of art, we maintain, is meaning—objective and readily discernible meaning. If a work makes no sense at all to an ordinary person without the intervention of an expert, it is outside the realm of art.

That this fundamental truth was conveyed, albeit implicitly, on two of America’s most popular television programs bodes well indeed for the future.

[I can’t say that I agree with Torres and Kamhi’s last statement, in their final two paragraphs above. As for “meaning” being the “essential attribute of art,” I stand with Suzanne Langer (1895-1985), an art philosopher such as those Torres and Kamhi disparage.

[Langer wrote that art is symbolic language and “has no vocabulary, no dictionary definitions.  It is . . . an expression of non-discursive thought.” “Beauty,” she said, “is expressive form.”  In other words, beauty is a function of the artwork’s main purpose: if the work successfully expresses feeling, that is, “may truly be said to ‘do something to us,’” it is by definition ‘beautiful’—whether or not it’s also pretty.

[Langer says nothing about “meaning.”  What a piece of art “means” to any given viewer depends on what it makes her or him feel, and that could be thousands of different “meanings”—or none at all. (See “Susanne Langer: Art, Beauty, & Theater,” 4 and 8 January 2010.)] 

*  *  *  *

JERRY SALTZ ON MORLEY SAFER’S FACILE 
60 MINUTES ART-WORLD SCREED
by Jerry Saltz 


[Jerry Saltz is the senior art critic for New York magazine, which published this column on 1 April 2012. (It also appeared on Vulture, the online platform of New York.) This review is of Safer’s second 60 Minutes broadcast on contemporary art, the one in 2012, “Art Market,” after he made the trip down to Miami Beach for the Art Basel art fair.]

Art is for anyone. It just isn’t for everyone. Still, over the past decade, its audience has hugely grown, and that’s irked those outside the art world, who get irritated at things like incomprehensibility or money. That’s when easy hit jobs on art’s bad values appear in mainstream media. A harmless garden-variety example aired tonight on CBS’s 60 Minutes (I didn’t know it was on anymore), as Morley Safer went into high snark. Never mind that he did virtually the same piece in 1993, beating up on institutions like the Whitney [Museum of American Art in New York City] and mentioning some of the same names with the same pseudo-knowingness. (I think he’s got an art bromance brewing with Jeff Koons. This time, at least, he has nice things to say about Cindy Sherman and Kara Walker.) As with that 1993 piece — which he brought up repeatedly, crowing about its notoriety — Safer was on about art fairs, artspeak, high prices, collecting as conspicuous consumption, Russian oligarchs who throw money around, and the ugliness of the market: endemic stuff we all know about and dislike.

In the days before cable TV and the Internet, the art world would get bent out of shape by such sniping. (I remember tittering when, shortly after the 1993 story aired, I spotted Safer downing free Champagne at a Whitney event. The cravenness!) Nowadays, Safer’s cynicism is a good sign: It even performs a service for the art world. He goes to the biggest fish-in-a-barrel scene around, Art Basel Miami Beach, to take a few shots, and (while publicizing the story the other day) complains that there are now “customers who just weren’t there twenty years ago.” He scornfully said, “Now you have China, Malaysia, India, Russia … seriously, Russia.” Ick! Rich people from Malaysia and Russia! (It’s like he’s trying to stop a posh men’s club from integrating. Oh wait, he recently did that, too.) The self-devouring service he performs is being a one-percenter going after other one-percenters. He’s hating art that only others like him pay much attention to. You go, Morley.

In tonight’s segment, Safer delivered cliché after cliché, starting with “the emperor’s new clothes.” Earlier in the week, he was moaning that contemporary art “lacks any irony.” (What has he been looking at these past 40 years?) He worried that the “gatekeepers of art” permit such bad work. He doesn’t know that there are no “gatekeepers” in the art world anymore, that it’s mainly a wonderful chaos. It’s like the scene in Apocalypse Now when Martin Sheen crosses into Cambodia and asks a soldier, “Who’s in charge here?” The soldier, unaware he’s in a place where old rules no longer apply, panics and replies, “I thought you were!” That’s Safer.

Rather than really looking at art, he’s focused on the distraction, on celebrity, cash, and crassness. Safer fails to see that cash simply does what other cash does and collectors basically buy what other collectors have already bought. He’s now doing the same thing: Spotting the obvious. It sounds like he doesn’t regularly go to scores of local galleries, big and small, parsing out what he sees, month by month, deciding on a case-by-case basis what works, what doesn’t, why. He’s not finding his own taste; all he’s doing is not liking what other people like himself like. Or maybe Safer is just what Colonel Kurtz, in Apocalypse Now [played by an obese Marlon Brando], calls “an errand boy, sent by grocery clerks, to collect a bill.”

Flacking for the piece on Friday, Safer told Charlie Rose and Gayle King, “Even Jerry Saltz says 85 percent of the art we see is bad,” adding that he’d suggest that it’s 95 percent. Whatever. I wanted to tell him that the percent I suggested doesn’t only apply to the present. Eighty-five percent of the art made in the Renaissance wasn’t that good either. It’s just that we never see it: What is on view in museums has already been filtered for us. Safer doesn’t get that the thrill of contemporary art is that we’re all doing this filtering together, all the time, in public, everywhere. Moreover, his 85 percent is different from my 85 percent, which is different from yours, and so on down the line until you get to Glenn Beck [conservative political commentator and media personality], who says everything is Communist. No one knows how current art will shake out. This scares some people.

The reason Safer isn’t able to have what he calls “an aesthetic experience” with contemporary art is that he fears it. It’s too bad, because fear is a fantastic portal for such experiences. Fear tells you important things. Instead, Safer is fixated on art that only wants to be loved. Most art wants attention, but there are many ways of doing this — from being taken aback by Andy Warhol’s clashing colors and sliding silk-screens to being stopped in your tracks by just a dash in a poem by Emily Dickinson. Art isn’t something that only wants love. It’s also new forms of energy, skill, or beauty. It’s the ugliness of Goya’s Saturn Devouring His Children. Often art is something we cross the street to avoid, something that makes us uncomfortable, that tells us things we don’t want to know, that creates space for uncertainty. Safer goes to the most hellish place on Earth to look for “an aesthetic experience,” then gets grumpy when he doesn’t have one. It’s clownish.

The art world now knows that the more time spent by the Safers out there shooting the wounded, the more time other emerging, on-going, subtler, and maturing art will have to take root before the next generation of Safers takes its aim. The longer these folks are distracted by being riled and right, the better. I understand that Safer makes watercolors of motel rooms or something. So he does have ideas about what art should be. Morley, I challenge you to curate a public New York show of 25 to 35 contemporary artists — those who have emerged since, say, 1985 — whose work you really approve of, plus a few examples of your own art. I promise to review it, fair and square. Deal?

*  *  *  *
MORLEY SAFER HATED CONTEMPORARY ART.
HE ALSO MADE PAINTINGS. 
HE ONCE SENT A BUNDLE OF THEM TO ME
by Jerry Saltz

[On 20 May 2016, five days after Safer retired from CBS after 50 years with the network and 46 years with 60 Minutes, and the day after the newsman’s death at 84, Saltz published this column, a sort of obituary. He had mentioned Safer’s painting in his 2012 article above; now he had a first-hand experience with it.]

Morley Safer, the legendary TV newsman, died Thursday at age 84. So why am I, an art critic, writing about him? Like a lot of people in the art world, I feel I have a sort of history with him.

I don’t mean to be speaking ill of the dead instantaneously, and I intend this more as a begrudging compliment: To us, Safer was a persistent pain in the ass, most famously in his September 1993 quarter-hour hit piece for 60 Minutes on the whole culture of contemporary art, snidely titled “Yes, But Is It Art?” In the segment, which quickly became insider shorthand for all the ways the wider world misunderstands and sometimes disdains contemporary art, the irascible Safer — dressed in an almost-tuxedo and dripping with disdainful innuendo that implied that all of this was just a sham — attacked high prices (or what seemed then like high prices), the infamous “political” Whitney Biennial, and, of course, Jeff Koons. And even though every potshot he took seemed slanted, one-sided, his arch insinuations got under the art world’s skin — a sign of different times, I guess, both for art and for television news. I remember how miffed I was when, two weeks after his hatchet job hit the airwaves, I spied him drinking free Champagne at that season’s Whitney Museum benefit dinner. In 2012 he more or less repeated the drive-by, sauntering down the aisles of one of the grossest souks on Earth, the Art Basel Miami Beach Art Fair, for another segment, all the while drolly pointing to this or that fashion victim or crapola work of art, cluelessly assuming that all art was like this.

What most people don’t know about Safer is that he was himself an artist. Or, at least, he made art. In the 1990s I’d heard he made watercolors of motel rooms, and I continuously tried to coax him into allowing me to mount a show of them. I don’t even know if my requests ever got to him, as I never heard from him or CBS. That changed last year, when I was writing an article on art by celebrities, and, after we reached out to him, Safer offered to send a package to New York Magazine.* Before I could say “OMG! The bear is coming out of the woods,” a carefully wrapped bundle of small original works arrived at our offices. I don’t believe they’ve been published, or possibly even seen publicly before.

I didn’t hate them. What I saw had a certain earnest pathos, someone being an artist in a mid-20th-century Sunday-painter way. The work seemed influenced mainly by a very conservative idea about plain modernistic surfaces, depiction, and color. Safer was a careful drawer, and his colors stayed within lines. His subjects were ordinary landscape, portraits, churches, tourist sites, and the like.

                         

Hotel room, Drake Hotel, Chicago, 1980
Safer was known to paint his hotel rooms while on the road.

I wouldn’t have bought any of these if I saw them at a yard sale, except one. His motel-room picture has everything you’d want it to have, and even a little bit more. Which is to say banality, blankness, something sweet, neat, forlorn, and soul-killing. The space is cramped, the décor drab and sterile; a rotary dial phone sits on the bare night table next to one generic lamp. Over the small double bed is just the kind of cliché landscape that Safer liked to paint: two trees on a hill with a yellow sun in the white sky. Ironies extend. The rumpled bed with only one side turned down lets us know Safer has been here, alone on the road. A plain poignancy lingers, even in the uninspired style.

In 1990 he painted a native of Burkina Faso, West Africa. He’s black, sitting on the ground against a stuccolike building, and wears some sort of scarlet robe. Never mind the Orientalizing that most in the art world would spot as colonialist, Safer does the whole thing in an unhurried, controlled Gericault-meets-Matisse air.

[Jean-Louis Géricault (1791-1824) was a French painter and one of the pioneers of the Romantic movement. Henri Matisse (1869-1954) was a French painter, regarded as one of the artists who best helped to define the revolutionary developments in the visual arts throughout the opening decades of the twentieth century.]

Another work from the same year finds him giving us a scene overlooking bountiful planted summer fields of musky green. (The guy obviously enjoyed his first-class perks and leisure time.) Other than a great tree that feels like it must have been made on the African serengeti, the rest of the work I saw was typical tourist postcard art. The unhurried arid mise-en-scène conjures sparsely peopled retirement communities built around golf courses.

Adding to the pathos of the pictures, after the article came out and he wasn’t included, I got another email asking me, honestly, why not, and what I thought of his art. I never got back to him. Had I, I would have said that it was too bad he never gave art a real chance, as he seemed to have a real feel for a certain strain of painting from observation. And that, had he not set himself against the whole world of contemporary art, he might have picked up a thing or two that might have helped him.