Since its opening performance on January 7th, “The Eternal Road” has been the subject of enthusiastic acclaim. Critics and reviewers have devoted hundreds of thousands of pounds of newsprint to describe its dramatic grandeur and to sing the praise of this great spectacle. The literary value of Franz Werfel’s text, of Kurt Weill’s musical score, Bel Geddes’ settings, Max Reinhardt’s direction and Benjamin Zemach’s dance compositions have been subjected to minute scrutiny and found to be “perfect and without flaw” from the respective points of view.
But what of the audience? After all, it is the audience, the man not on the street but on the theatre seat, who is the final judge and arbiter. What is his reaction to and appreciation of all the things that go into the making of this unprecedented stage play? The answer to this question is priceless information not only to the producers but the student of mass psychology and reaction. This is particularly interesting to ne who would seek to determine non-Jewish reactions to plays and public presentations of so eminently Jewish topics as the biblical history depicted on the upper levels and of present-day Jewish reality enacted in the pit of the stage in the Manhattan Opera House.
The first and perhaps most reliable bit of evidence this reviewer is in a position to offer is of course his own experience. Without fear of contradiction or challenge he wishes to preface this review of audience reactions by the veritable statement that he saw “The Eternal Road” ten times. This fact alone is sufficient to dispel any doubt as to the capability of the performance to gain and to hold the onlooker’s attention and absorption. Even without the element of surprise and expectancy (after the fourth or the fifth attendance this reviewer knew almost all the lines by heart and could well visualize in advance the imminence of the next gesture and setting), the scenes in Reinhardt’s production of “The Eternal Road” are full of the dramatic grip. Familiarity with subject, line or setting is far from producing self-satisfying knowledge. On the contrary, the more intimately this reviewer got to know the scenes in the absorbing drama the greater grew his curiosity for the discovery each time of new meanings in the spoken lines and experiencing newer thrills from the dramatic accentuations of the groupings and the acting as well as the musical accompaniment in each of the scores of scenes that follow each other in perfect harmony.
During the ten performances this reviewer has had as fellow spectators ten variously composed audiences of the average numerical strength of at least twenty-five hundred persons per audience. The reaction and the behavior of these audiences, as far as they can possibly be judged on the surface probably represent the sum total of human emotions provoked in the minds and hearts of twenty-five thousand theatergoers, fifty percent of whom – at least – were non-Jews. A cross-section of public sentiment has thus impressed itself upon this reviewer’s mind. He is willing to share his impressions with his readers unless they, if they were parts of the same audiences, are ready to come forward with contradictory observations. The first and most potent impression one carries away from his contact with audiences at “The Eternal Road” is the feeling that the principal subject – biblical history – is generally familiar to the Jew or Gentile in the house. Very little reference to the explanatory synopsis is seen or observed in the audience. Apparently New York Jews – notwithstanding plaintive notes from the Rabbinical pulpits to the contrary – know their Chumish. The same may be presumed for the non-Jewish part of the audience. Apparently biblical influences still cement the foundations of Protestant Anglo-Saxon culture. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, David and Solomon are familiar figures but this is the kind of familiarity which is coupled with a reverential and affectionate attitude, an attitude which adds rather than subtracts interest in the flesh-and-blood presentation. There is no heaviness or heavenliness in the Reinhardt portrayal of these revered figures of the Bible. The audience feels at one with these characters of historic posture. Stepping forth from the pages of the Book they bear the characteristics of the Book which impressed their image and grandeur upon mankind’s mind. The sacred halo does not obscure their significantly human characteristics, their struggles, trials and tribulations. Yes, these were the heroes of a distant and sacred past and this is how they may have appeared and acted in actual life. There is a stamp of genuineness upon the Reinhardt characterizations which do not minimize and certainly do not offend the most orthodox conception. On the contrary, these characterizations tend to increase their plausibility. The dramatic qualities of the play as it emerges from Werfel’s lines and sequences are easily traceable to the portraits handed down in the biblical text which as literary critics have long ago observed, is deeply human by its unmitigated simplicity and directness.
There are certain stages in the progress of “The Eternal Road’s” settings and actions which produce invariably a salvo of hearty and enthusiastic applause. The plaudits, as the surest expression of the reaction of the audience, here take on an additional significance. The average man applauds in the theatre the action or the statement with which he is in agreement. The statements, the supplications, and the actions of figures like those of the Bible obviously do not require approval. The audience invariably abstains from expressions of such approval. The applause rings high at moments when neither the actions nor the statements of the characters but their characterizations and settings come to light in a dazzling and grandiose manner, and in arrangements of scene and position which make the action plausible. Thus when the first effects of the brilliancy of the Heavenly Hosts come to full view in the Covenant conclusion scene, the audience’s approval of the artistic conception and the play of light burst forth. The man in the theatre seat loses control of his emotion; he is carried away by the grandeur of the picture. He gives loud expression to his approval. Similar is the invariable reaction of the audience to the brilliantly-lit scene which brings out in what appears to be a plausible and accurate manner the enslavement of the Israelites in the bondage of Egypt and the appearance of Moses on the scene of World History. Text, sound and light blend into one. You actually see, hear and feel the immense suffering of enslaved Israel who awaits his liberator.
The dance around the Golden Calf is no less brilliant both from the point of view of the light effect as well as the plausibility of the intense action. And yet, hardly if ever does the hushed audience stir. Here one may observe an applause in reverse. The effect produced by this scene, which winds up with the breaking of the Tablets by Moses, is so profound that all senses are absorbed. No active physical expression of approval seems to be necessary or even possible. Similar in nature is the audience’s reaction to the enactment of the intense drama of Joseph and his brethren. The very melodious tunes in Kurt Weill’s score and the rhythmic Egyptian dances that fill the ear and the eye when witnessing the scene of the banquet by the exalted ruler of Egypt to the corn-buying visitors from Canaan incline the onlooker to express his appreciation but the intensity of the drama that follows swiftly stifles this desire into a renewed hush. Again this is the reticence of those who are eyewitnesses to a gripping event. The drama of David and Bath-Sheba keeps the audience in a prolonged suspense which ends only in the succeeding scene when another flash of brilliant effects – in lights, in dance, and in scene arrangement – brings into relief the completion of King Solomon’s Temple and calls forth a thunderous applause of approval.
These observations hold true with regard to the audience as a whole including its Jewish as well as non-Jewish component parts. But there is a parallel drama in “The Eternal Road” – the drama that takes place in the synagogue, in the pit of the Manhattan Opera stage. The action there, mirroring as it does the reality in the timeless Jewish community, the death of the Jewish question at a moment of crisis, calls forth quite varying reactions. So essentially patterned after the precariousness of Jewish life in many countries today, the scene in the synagogue is principally a message of courage which is buttressed by the scenes of heroic grandeur on the upper levels. Viewed separately the synagogue scenes carry their message to the Jewish onlooker first of all. The non-Jew can best be expected to bring to the action in the pit a measure of understanding, sympathy and commiseration. Do these scenes call forth such sentiments? Here we enter into the field of speculation.
Werfel in conception and Reinhardt in characterization gave us here a galaxy of types which represent, one might say, a cross-section
[entire page missing]
But the spirit of “Remembrance and Law” against which the Adversary so eloquently and effectively rebels, prevails in the congregation under the steadfast guidance of the Rabbi. He emerges in the play as a towering personality who has ready access to the sources of knowledge and faith. Fortified with these he remains detached and stays unafraid. He is not weary of the “dusty roads” and has the steadfastness to bid the congregation to re-embark on these roads when the necessity arises. His is a figure which calls forth respect of the Jewish part and good will of the non-Jewish part of the audiences.
That there are two kinds of applause – one that comes to the fore in the form of thunderous handclapping; the other that imposes upon the audience a hush of absorption – is demonstrated by the reaction of the audiences to the role of the tiny lad who plays the part of the son of the Estranged One. He is the one whom the Rabbi invites at the end of the first act, over the protests of the congregation, to “come to us and listen and watch.” Listening and watching, the son of the Estranged One frequently breaks into the action on the upper levels and brings to it a touch of the charms of faith that are inherent in youth. The audience waxes enthusiastic in its applause of the lad’s performance in the David and Goliath song scene. But the same audience falls under the spell of a hushed silence when towards the climax the son of the Estranged One rises in Werfel’s conception and Reinhardt’s characterization to the heights of the Torch Bearer, the idealistic Jewish youth who “longs for Messiah,” asks impatient questions and addresses itself to the Spirit of Redemption with words like these:
Why do you lament . . .
Are you weary after this night . . .
I am not weary . . .
Come Father. . .
Come all of you. . .
[Rest of essay missing.]
I am not weary . . .
Come Father. . .
Come all of you. . .
[Rest of essay missing.]
(Attributed to "Z. Alroy." Text taken from typewritten manuscript. Date is 1937. Publication details unknown.)
No comments:
Post a Comment