The week of Thanksgiving, I watched Fiddler: A Miracle of Miracles, a documentary on Great Performances on PBS. It’s about the origins of Fiddler on the Roof, a musical so many of us love beyond measure.
I am way too emotionally fragile these days, even more so than usual, and I cried through most of it. I mean, CRIED. I had to pause it a few times to weep for a few minutes.
In this era of chastising people for cultural appropriation and rebuking people from one culture from wearing anything, singing anything or presenting anything from a culture not of their own culture, I was so happy to see the productions of this play in Japan and in Indonesia so celebrated, and the universal themes acknowledged over and over. I loved the comment one of the creators got when it was produced in Japan: a person asked him, “Do American audiences really like this?” He said yes, of course. And the person said, “I’m surprised, because it’s so Japanese!”
I have this fantasy of subtitling the show in Pashto and Dari and showing it annually on TV in Afghanistan. Because the story is SO Afghan to me.
The documentary talked about how, in the spring of 1969, a group of black and Puerto Rican junior high school students staged Fiddler on the Roof in Brooklyn, as black-Jewish tension swirled around them. The drama teacher directing the production believed that the show would give these kids a more sympathetic understanding of Jews. There were teachers at the school and community members who tried to stop the production, using many of the reasons people try to stop cross-cultural productions of certain shows now. But the show went on, and the students had a very personal, intimate connection with the show, with girls identifying with many of the patriarchal restrictions by male relatives, with children witnessing evictions – or being subjected to them – from homes.
This from New York Jewish Week, a publication of the Times of Israel:
When someone tried to stop the show by alerting the producers that they didn’t have official permission, the show’s creative team granted special permission and in fact Jerry Bock, Sheldon Harnick and Joseph Stein, along with producer Hal Prince, traveled to Brownsville for opening night, as their own production was flourishing on Broadway. These kids belted out “Tradition” and “If I Were A Rich Man” from their souls… While Jews felt pride at seeing a robust show of Jewish content on Broadway, they were not the only ones to feel the sometimes-painful tug between tradition and modernity, between one generation and the next.
I’m not crying, YOU’RE CRYING!!
I first saw “Fiddler” via the film version on TV. I was a teenaged Kentucky gal, raised mostly Baptist, and not really clear on much regarding the Jewish religion, let alone Eastern European history I loved it, even as my brother walked through the room repeatedly making fun of whatever was on TV at that moment or me for watching it. I saw two amateur productions in Western Kentucky when I was in high school as well, neither of which, I suspect, had any actual Jewish people in them, and with Kentucky accents hard to hide. Both productions were adored by the audiences. Both productions reached people who never would have experienced the show otherwise. I guess there is a growing number of people who just can’t understand how Fiddler on the Roof would mean something so dear to people who aren’t even that familiar with Jewish culture, and would, in fact, be offended by such a group daring to stage the production. And that makes me incredibly sad.
Givings people – kids, in particular – the chance to explore different stories and different kinds of theater, music, dance, etc., creates an understanding and empathy that is so needed in the world – it’s not just fun, it’s transformative. As long as it comes from a place of sincerity and respect, I love seeing people from one culture explore another culture through the performing arts. No, I don’t mean black face, a practice where one group makes fun and demeans another through an exaggerated, stereotypical portrayal. But I tend not to lose my mind if, say, someone of Italian and African descent playing a Hispanic person from Chilé (Breaking Bad). Or a guy from Japan playing Kentucky bluegrass music.
On another note, there was one person in the documentary I have met, have worked with, I thought yet again about how lucky I was to get to work in professional theater for a few years. I miss theater – professional and amateur – so, so much. I miss live, in-person performance so, so much. It hurts my head, it hurts my heart, it hurts my soul. But if they all opened tomorrow, I wouldn’t go. Because there’s a global pandemic. We’ve got to get through this so we can get back to live, in-performance, among other things. Please wear a mask. Please don’t socialize with people outside of those you live with.
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