Show goes on for "Last Jew..." despite controversy

By Seth Mandel
Nov. 23, 2007

From a city of angels to the heart of darkness and, finally, to the city that never sleeps, playwright/director Tuvia Tenenbom's latest work has dug up those who would seek to bury the Jews and unearthed those Jews who would bury their heads in the sand.

"Last Jew in Europe," presented by the Jewish Theater of New York (JTNY), of which Tenenbom is the artistic director, breathes new life into the old truth-in-comedy standard. Though some scenes may seem outrageous, Tenenbom makes clear that they are not exaggerated.

"It's basically an artistic interpretation of what happens in reality," Tenenbom told The Jewish State, referencing his time spent in Polish towns, Christian monasteries, and German pubs immediately prior to writing the script.

Art imitating life

The play begins with a series of photos of anti-Jewish graffiti in Lodz, Poland. It is one of the few moments when the audience is focused on the stage, with most of the performance being carried out in and around the audience.

The storyline follows young Jewish Jozef and his Christian fiancee Maria in Lodz, a couple of days before their wedding. Their perceptions of their own identities begin to crumble when the Mormon John Jay Smith shows up, looking to posthumously baptize the town's Jews.

Jozef, torn by his hidden Jewishness, comes to life when he realizes that Smith -- who has fallen in love with Maria -- can baptize his own forebears. Smith is torn between his dedication to his mission and his desire for Maria, and Jozef's father and Maria's parents are torn by their belief that their children are better off living a lie than knowing the truth.

But the truth does come out, at least a new version of the truth -- after all, no one can be sure whether the adults can be trusted.

Is it better for Jozef to believe he is a Jew pretending to be a Christian, or to be confronted with his family's possible Nazi past? "Not telling is not dishonesty, it's wisdom," Jozef's father tells him.

And is it better for Maria to believe she's the daughter of a Protestant pastor, or to become what she fears -- a Jew? This is the same girl who herself said, "Jews don't like anybody to know they're Jewish."

Maria's parents even use the Jews to validate their own Protestantism in a mostly Catholic country. "Catholic, Protestant, what's the difference?" Maria's mother asks casually. "Same dead Jews."

One thing, however, seems obvious throughout: no one in Poland wants to be a Jew. The revelations cause panic and depression, only inspiring one moment of delight: Maria's face lights up at the thought of her fiancé being a Nazi instead of a Jew.

A modern Jew in Europe

Tenenbom's time spent in Europe was not intended to be research for this play, but the outcome was unavoidable. In Lodz, he heard the usual "Jews are Christ-killers who control the media" blathering, but there was a sincerity to it there, and when Tenenbom kept digging, the depth of the hatred "shocked" him.

He saw the graffiti -- Stars of David everywhere, swastikas, phrases like "Jews to the gas chambers" -- and realized that even when the Jewish communities fled, Jew-hatred stayed put.

In the German pubs, Tenenbom said, after five beers his hosts' every sentence seemed to begin with "you Jews...." After they sobered up, they would beg for Tenenbom's forgiveness. Maybe he could forgive, but he couldn't forget.

"It kept driving me crazy, I kept thinking about it," Tenenbom said.

While spending time in a Polish monastery, Tenenbom realized he wasn't the only one being driven crazy by anti-Semitism. One night, he noticed his roommate was up late smoking a cigarette, looking troubled. "Why can't you sleep?" Tenenbom wondered.

"Because there are too many Jews in the world," came the response. The Polish man was driven to insomnia by the Nazis' failure to cure the world of the Jewish virus. The man was certain that Jews can dress and act however they want, "but the Jewish blood doesn't change."

"This show, a big part of it is documentary, baby; we didn't invent these pictures," Tenenbom said.

Correct vs. politically correct

But that didn't stop the Polish Embassy's office from complaining about the use of the pictures of Lodz graffiti in the play and the press materials.

"The images in the press release focus on anti-Semitism, not of specific people blemished by a particular vice of character or judgment, but rather on a whole nation," Piotr Erenfeicht, the embassy's press secretary, wrote in a letter to the theater. "This creates a broad, unfair, and misleading perception of a given nation, in this case the Polish nation."

Tenenbom's response was defiant, calling the charge "ridiculous" and an insult to the intelligence of the American theatergoer.

It's a story that needs to be told -- over and over, if necessary, Tenenbom believes. To that end, he is putting the play on in Poland.

"I'm putting these facts in your face and I'm saying 'deal with it'," Tenenbom said. "We don't hide these stories, we don't hide them under the carpet."

That wasn't the only bit of controversy, however. The New York Times wouldn't review the play, and Tenenbom accused the paper's theater director, Rick Lyman, of essentially blacklisting the play and attempting to strong-arm "Last Jew in Europe" off the stage.

At press time, Lyman had not responded to a request for comment.

Tenenbom is no stranger to controversy, however. His production of "The Diary of Adolf Eichmann" evoked outrage from, of all places, The Village Voice, which refused to even list the play.

But Tenenbom isn't deterred; he is trying to show his audience the dangers of anti-Semitism, and cast a spotlight on a facet of human character that most people would rather ignore.

"'Send the Jews to the gas chambers' and we are supposed to be quiet about it?" Tenenbom said. "It's ridiculous. If you don't criticize, it's never going to end."

And if that means drawing the ire of a couple of theater critics, so be it; Tenenbom would rather let others worry about being politically correct while he is busy defending his people. Nor do burned bridges concern him much -- he rarely looks back.

"You can waste your life going back," he said. "If you regret anything you did, you will end up going nowhere in life. It will paralyze you."

Blazing his own trail

Tenenbom was born and raised in the famously religious town of Bnei Brak, Israel, a place where, he joked, "only angels live." He developed an interest in secular studies, and left home at the age of 23 to study in Touro College, in New York City.

He studied English literature and even modern dance, and eventually fell into writing. When he couldn't find anyone to direct one of his plays, "Love Letters to Adolf Hitler," he began his foray into directing as well.

Admittedly, he said, directing has always been a challenge because rarely do two people look at the same script and envision the same stage adaptation. That can give any director headaches, especially a director who also wrote the script.

"Because you deal with human people, not with Legos," he said.

Climbing down the family tree

Tenenbom's trip to Europe included tracing some of his family's roots. His great-grandfather was the Radzyner Rebbe, in Radzyn, Poland. But all that remains there of his family's storied history are the unmarked Jewish graves, now serving as fertilizer for the apple trees planted by the residents living directly on top of those graves.

One resident there told him that the apples are especially sweet because dead Jews make the best fertilizer. A similar scene is recreated in the play.

And lest anyone think that the Mormon character John Jay Smith is out of place in the play, Tenenbom can assure them Smith is not; for while his ancestors fertilize the ground they once made holy with their Hassidism, Tenenbom found one of them on the database of those who have been posthumously baptized by the Mormon faithful.

That makes "Last Jew in Europe" not only historically accurate, but almost autobiographical for Tenenbom. For others, it is at the very least a cautionary tale.

"The sin of our fathers is we never fought for our rights," Tenenbom said. "We have to have a little more pride in what we do."

But that pride doesn't turn into arrogance for Tenenbom. He believes in his work and in his message, but never loses his perspective or his sense of humor.

"One thing I know about myself is that I know I'm not a god," Tenenbom said. "I start writing, and if it doesn't make sense it goes into this thing call the 'computer trash'."