THEATRE OF ADVERSITY

BY BRIAN MAHONEY

In a ground floor car park beneath an office building in downtown Poughkeepsie, two men are rehearsing a scene from Yevgeny Yevtushenko's newest play, "If All Danes Were Jews." Long-tubed fluorescent lights wash over the grey concrete walls and the faces of the actors, their heads protruding from twin trap doors in a wooden platform. The platform--about twelve feet long and four feet high and four feet wide--is set against the wall nearest the elevator and menaces like a gallows inside the cavernous, industrially drab garage. Stephen Wymore, formerly an instructor at Dutchess Community College, and Gregory Best, a student at DCC, portray two Danes, circa 1944, worrying as they watch German soldiers corral people into trucks.

Wymore, his chiseled face contrasted by the uneven lighting in the garage, is dressed as a member of the bourgeoisie: white shirt, tie, and top hat, with a pipe in his teeth. He examines the scene through binoculars.

"Now it is all clear," he says, "it is only a roundup of Jews. How horrible. But fortunately for you and me it is not our horror."

Best demurs, his ruddy cheeked, ample head to the left of Wymore's and stuffed into a worn hunter's cap with the ear flaps down like a misplaced homage to Ignatius J. O'Reilly, the hero of A Confederacy of Dunces.

"But I think any horror is ours. There are no alien horrors. All the horrors of the past are ours and even future horrors ours. And today's horrors even more so."

"If All Danes Were Jews," revisits familiar Yevtushenko territory: the specter of anti-Semitism in Europe, the struggle against oppression, and the question of the existence of human freedom. The plays echoes many of his works, including "Stalin's Funeral," an autobiographical film Yevtushenko made about the experience of growing up in anti-Semitic culture, but most explicitly his epic poem, "Babi Yar." Babi Yar is a Ukranian ravine where Nazi soldiers slaughtered 96,000 Jews during the German occupation. The poem, published in 1962, cracked the taboo of examining systemic Soviet anti-Semitism and Soviet complicity in the fate of European Jewry in a way that was never attempted before him. As a young man, Yevtushenko would loudly rail against Stalin at the dinner table, much to the chagrin of his family, who worried they'd be carted off to a work camp if neighbors overheard.

Yevtushenko's brash outspokenness against the abuses of Stalinism and the historic candor and simple beauty of his verses soon attracted crowds in the tens of thousands to hear him read his poetry in outdoor stadiums. He spoke about issues that people were afraid to verbalize and became the poetic voice of a younger generation. A generation still idealistic enough to follow the path of socialism, but unwillingly to believe in the lies of the past which had become their history.

Sergeo Levitas, who plays the male lead and also is directing "If All Danes Were Jews," emigrated to the US with his family in 1978, at the age of two. Levitas' parents were of the generation that lionized Yevtushenko. "My mother knew most of his poems by heart," Levitas said. The first language Levitas learned to speak was Russian, hearing the works of Russian writers like Pushkin and Yevtushenko, not from books, but from his parents' memory. "People in Russia memorized poetry. Culture was passed down verbally. People from the older generation knew volumes of poetry by heart...they couldn't afford to have books," Levitas noted.

In April of this year at DCC, where Levitas is a film and theatre student, Yevgeny Yevtushenko gave a reading to a packed house that Levitas said, "blew him away." I was also fortunate enough to be there, and watching Yevtushenko, a 6' 5" bear of a man prowl the stage reciting verses in Russian and English with little lost in the translation, was a revelation. We have no analogous figure in our culture; someone who blends the silken tongue of the poet, the politics of a radical, and the charisma and appeal of a rock star. In the midst of a romantic poem, when Yevtushenko reached a peak in the lyric and boomed, "I love you more than love!" and leaped off the stage (the guy's pretty agile for 64) and kissed one of the women in the front row, she almost swooned-literally.

After the performance, as people lined up to have their books signed (the smitten woman in front), Levitas, book in hand, joined their ranks. When his turn in line came, Levitas didn't open his book, choosing instead to recite Yevtushenko's poetry from memory, in Russian. Yevtushenko must have liked what he heard because when Levitas told the poet that he was a theatre student, Yevtushenko told him that he had a new play in his briefcase, and that Levitas was perfect for the male lead, the Major, though he would have to read for it, of course. After two dinners, one at the Eveready Diner in Red Hook (where Yevtushenko took the liberty of ordering ribs for everyone in his entourage), and another at the hosting faculty member, Eric Somer's house (who would later design the ambient mood sounds for the play), Sergeo read for the part of the Major. When Levitas asked for a moment to familiarize himself with the scene he was to read from, the poet firmly replied, "No," and commanded Sergeo to read for the part cold.

Satisfied with his intuition, Yevtushenko agreed to let Levitas stage a production, gratis; the poet waived his royalties on the production. When I questioned Levitas as to whether Yevtushenko asked for anything in return, he told me that he received only vague instructions and a reminder to be truthful to the spirit of the play. It seems the first production of the play, mounted in Copenhagen in 1996, was not completely to Yevtushenko's liking and he has not agreed to let it be staged since. Levitas now found himself in an unusual situation: a fledgling theatre student in the possession of a major work by an author of international renown, without a cast, without a crew, without a rehearsal or performance space, and without a budget.

Levitas then hit the streets. He convinced professors from three area colleges to become involved with the play, and the production boasts more professors than students. "I went to most of the colleges in the area and presented the project to them," Levitas said. Their desire to become involved in the production was a "combination of the level of interest in the piece itself and my level of dedication." Stephen Judd, a SUNY New Paltz professor, designed the sets; Ann Marie Zanchetti, a DCC instructor choreographed the dance scenes; James Montieth, a visual resources librarian at Vassar, and an artist, designed the large chess set that figures prominently in the play.

"From the first time I read the play, I connected with it. It was destiny," Levitas said when I asked him about his first reaction to the play. Words like destiny and phrases like overcoming adversity are common in Levitas' vocabulary. After speaking with him about the play a few times, I realized that he believed that there was a synergy of events surrounding the play. A confluence of dedication on his part and a belief in something greater at work which makes dedication possible. Which reminded me of something he said about the character of the Princess, who is locked in a tower for the duration of the play but never loses faith: "Faith in a higher power helps us survive adversity." He then related the story to me of Natasha Ivanova, also a Russian émigré and a student at DCC. Levitas cast Natasha as the female lead, in the dual role of the 17^th century Princess and the Jewish girl trying to save her father from the Nazis (there are many multiple role assignments in the play; six actors play twelve roles). When Natasha returned to Moscow for a brief visit this summer she had her passport confiscated. She was told by the authorities that her passport had expired. After Ivanova had waited nine weeks for a new passport to arrive, Levitas' mother went to St. Patrick's Cathedral in NYC to pray for the speedy expedition of Ivanova's paperwork. The next day, a passport was granted and Ivanova took a thirty-six hour train ride to Prague to catch a return flight, like a heroine in a John Le Carre novel, slipping out from under the Iron Curtain.

Other coincidences and serendipities surround this production. When DCC told Levitas that he could not perform or rehearse at DCC because they had no room for another play in addition to their main student production (although DCC is funding the play), a local businessman, Babu Mondava, offered the production a space in the garage underneath his building to rehearse. And the Thorne Building in Millbrook and the Grange Theatre in Rosendale were thrilled to host the premiere US stagings of "If All Danes Were Jews." When I initially spoke to Beverly Brumm, artistic director of the Grange Theatre about the upcoming production, she was "ecstatic to have Yevtushenko." Although the Grange's formal season ended in September, they were going to open for one more weekend in November, explicity for this production. Brumm also reminded me that the Grange had no heating system as yet, but that for Yevtushenko she would, "find a way, if it means bringing in fifty portable heaters."

In addition to starring, this production will be Levitas' directorial debut, yet this seems to faze neither Levitas nor the rest of the members of the production. In fact, they have formed their own production company, Power Surge Productions, and hope to produce more plays after their initial public offering. Levitas said the purpose of starting the company, with an eye to the future, was to "keep people aware of other views and other cultures not in the mainstream." Levitas stressed the fact that diverse voices need to be heard, and that adversity is only as much of a, well, adverse condition as you allow it to be. This opinion contradicts the conventional wisdom of the area arts community, whose philosophy was summed up by one Poughkeepsie arts booster who said, "It is hard enough to put a play on here without any added problems," referring to the play's allegedly controversial title, which proved a deciding factor in one theatre's rejection of form a partnership with the production.

After the two weekends of shows in Millbrook and Rosendale, "If All Danes Were Jews" will travel to New York City to perform at the NY Independent Film Festival Theater, housed in the same building as Al Pacino's production company. Could lightning strike Sergeo Levitas twice? You never know, but if Levitas doesn't meet Al, he would like to take the play on a tour of the NYC public schools to use the drama to teach children about the universal struggle against oppression. Levitas believes that each generation faces the same forces of opposition, whether they are dressed as swastika-banded Nazis or in any other uniform. "Maybe it is only the patch that changes," he said. "Repression and persecution remain the same and people need to be made aware of it." Levitas is currently negotiating with the Board of Education, and the project is under evaluation by NYANA (New York Association for New Americans), an organization that provides grants to immigrants for education and cultural programs.

Rumor has it that Yevgeny Yevtushenko himself will be at the opening in Millbrook, flying up from his residence in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I'll be there too, though not because I can vouch for the quality of the production. I saw only a short scene performed in rehearsals, which though well performed, was not enough to convince me that the play could not utterly bomb. What will bring me to Millbrook is my fascination with this young man, Sergeo Levitas-a theatrical novice-and this play he is staging against the odds and the conventional wisdom, which says that college students that attempt such grand schemes are destined to failure. Even if "If All Danes Were Jews" does fail, and I don't think it will, it will be one of the most beautiful failures that I have seen in a long, long time.

Coda

On October twenty-first, I received a call from the play's producer, Lisa Kirby. She told me that the Grange Theatre had been closed down by the Rosendale building inspector for violations of code, and that the staging of "If All Danes Were Jews," had been canceled. "We had wanted to premiere the show at the Grange," Kirby told me, "but because our funding was from DCC the premiere had to be in Dutchess County." Kirby was optimistic, however, "There is a guardian angel watching over this production," she said, and she was already busy scrambling to find an another performance space. At the time I spoke to her, the cast had not even been informed yet.

Then I called Beverly Brumm, and she said of the building inspection, "It was not unexpected. We had some violations of code. We never had an inspection when we opened." It turns out that the Grange Theatre operated all summer long without an inspection. "The first couple of weeks this summer," Brumm said, "we were nervous." After a few weeks, though, the members of the Grange Collective were all whispering to each other, "I don't think they [The Town of Rosendale] are going to do anything." For whatever reason, the town waited until after the formal end of the Grange's season, and didn't send the building inspector until October fifteenth. Brumm speculated that the town wants the Grange to be there. "They [The Town] could have come down at any time. It would have been very awkward in August when we were in the middle of a production," she said. About the future of the Grange, Brumm was optimistic and told me that they plan to bring the building up to code over the winter and open for a new season on May first.

Brumm expressed her disappointment that they had to cancel the staging of "If All Danes Were Jews" at the Grange since of the code violations came to light. "We'd be breaking the law," she said, and Brumm told me she felt as if she had let down Levitas, Kirby and company.

As of this writing, no alternative has been found to replace the Grange Theatre for the production.

"If All Danes Were Jews," will be playing at the Thorne Building in Millbrook, Friday November 7th at 8pm, and Saturday November 8th at 8pm. Call 464-0609 for tickets and information.

EXCERPTS FROM THE PLAY...

The following is an excerpt from "If All Danes Were Jews," by Yevgeny Yevtushenko. The scene takes place in the chambers of the Colonel, who is dead drunk. He has just ordered a prostitute, wrapped in a map of Europe, to be deported to Germany from Copenhagen, for certain extermination, advising her, "Accounts are settled with you."

COLONEL:

And with us accounts are settled Major. They are settled for everything. I feel it like a dog run over feels the creak of the knacker's wagon. That creak gets closer and closer and I can't get up, as if on Judgment Day. I'm squashed and I see my own guts on the pavement. Here, here, they catch me under the ribs with an iron hook and throw me in a wooden cage in a pile of other, also doomed dogs. The Fuhrer has betrayed us all. But he himself will be there in that same cage.

MAJOR:

It's a test again, Herr Colonel?

COLONEL:

If you were an informer, you would long ago have informed on me to the Gestapo. But you probably think the same thing yeas and many other officers and even generals. The hypnotists is still alive, but the hypnosis has passed. I think, even from the hypnotist himself. We're bound to him by blood and his corpse can drag both of us to the bottom. What can be done?

MAJOR:

Go to the bottom, but separate from that corpse. But make that bottom as comfortable as possible. and so that the reeds through which we will breathe at the bottom will be as long as possible.

COLONEL:

Just where will you find such a cozy bottom?

MAJOR:

Maybe in Brazil. Maybe in Chile, on Tierra del Fuego. You can believe our fellow countrymen, more than antelopes will be there.

COLONEL:

And I, for example, on what will I live there? Even I, like you, was an idiotically crystal-clear National Socialist. I didn't loot, didn't rob, didn't take bribes. I gave everything to the great idea. And suddenly it turned out that the whole idea was a fake, and you I were not players at the card tables of history, and all in all just a tattered deck of playing cards, but still in the hands of a card shark. Damn him, that in the end I came out morally bankrupt. With stuffed pockets you can survive moral poverty. But to be morally impoverished with empty pockets also is too much.