Demonic Delight: A Review of “Bashevis’s Demons”
Yiddish is a language and culture that constantly seems under threat of “dying.” However, in the words of Nobel Prize winning Yiddish writer Isaac Bashevis Singer: “In Jewish history, between dying and dead is a very great distance.”
These words were partially quoted to me in an interview with Shane Baker, star of “Bashevis’s Demons,” – an off-broadway staging of three of Singer’s short stories that I recently had the pleasure of attending. The play, starring Baker and Miryem-Khaye Seigel and directed by Moshe Yassur and Beite Hein Bennet, adapts Singer’s “The Mirror,” “The Last Demon” and “Kukuriku.” The play as well as the interview were both illuminating experiences, demonstrating the artistic power and continued liveliness of Yiddish theatre.
A plot synopsis of each story is necessary before getting into the analysis portion of the review. The play opens with “The Mirror,” in which Seigel plays a young, attention-starved housewife in an old European shtetl who is tempted to step through her mirror into the world of demons. This was the most comedic of the three stories, with Baker shining throughout playing the mischievous demon in the mirror who uses the woman’s desperation and naivety against her. Especially towards the story’s end, Seigel injects her character with a great deal of pathos, as she navigates the shock, fear and excitement that accompanies entering such an alien world.
“The Last Demon,” a far sadder story, features Baker as a demon sent to a small Polish town in order to tempt its rabbi to sin. The demon, despite several attempts, fails at his mission. Due to his failure he is exiled there for eternity, and after witnessing the town’s destruction during the Holocaust, he is left with nothing but a Yiddish alphabet book to console him. Baker makes the demon’s sense of loss palpable, as he transitions from jolly and impish to bereft after recognizing that humans are far crueler than he or other demons can ever dream to be.
Finally, “Kukuriku” pivots away from the demonic theme, as Seigel stars as a chicken who monologues to the audience. The chicken lets out a final Kukuriku (a cock’s crow in Yiddish) distilling a message of hope before her slaughter on the eve of Yom Kippur. The highlight is Seigel’s crowing while clad in an absurd chicken costume, as she leans into the campy aspect of the story, leaving the crowd in awe and laughter.
At first glance, it is unclear what connects all three stories thematically. However, speaking with Baker a few days after seeing the play significantly abetted my understanding. Baker explained that “The Mirror” and “The Last Demon” are often taught together as two demon stories with very different tones. Moreover, he described how Singer and other Yiddish writers saw the demons as stand-ins for themselves – spreading Haskalah (Enlightenment) and using their traditional knowledge to bring alien elements into the static world of the European shtetl.
However, Baker did not want to merely stage the two plays together, ending on the depressing note of “The Last Demon”: “If Yiddish writers are the demons,” Baker told me, “then [in “The Last Demon”], he’s talking about what it is like to be a Yiddish writer after the Holocaust, when the audience has vanished in comparison to the pre-war audience.” While “Kukuriku” is sometimes interpreted as a simple animal rights allegory (Baker told me how Singer used to joke: “I’m a vegetarian for health reasons; the health of the chickens!”), it can also be interpreted as a triumph of Yiddish word and culture amidst the desolation of the Holocaust. “Kukuriku” acts as the play’s emotional climax, communicating “Bashevis’s Demons” overall message. The chicken, symbolizing the Jewish people, while destined to be slaughtered, maintains a belief that her words will continue to resonate, and lets out a Kukuriku that echoes throughout the generations.
“The Last Demon” ends with a question mark, as the demon is stuck in a desolate town repeatedly reading through the Yiddish alphabet, unsure if the language and culture will survive. “Kukuriku” answers the question with a message of hope that the Yiddish word will remain, as long as there are those with the strength to cry out Kukuriku and those with the curiosity to listen.
The chicken’s hope is vindicated by the very existence of “Bashevis’s Demons” and the continued growth of Yiddish theatre today. In speaking with Baker, I learned that he is not of Jewish descent. However, he has been involved in Yiddish theatre for a few decades, falling in love with the form after attending many Yiddish plays while studying theatre in New York City. Baker expressed optimism about the state of Yiddish theatre, mentioning the number of Yiddish theatres in operation, the success of the recent off-broadway Yiddish production of “Fiddler on the Roof” and the general dedication of those passionate about Yiddish language and culture. “When I came to town there was one Yiddish theatre run by octogenarians” … Baker said, “now there are seven or eight Yiddish theatre companies in New York as we speak. There is interest and activity for Yiddish … Theatre is a fight, but you do it because you believe in it. I think our show is worthwhile and we will find a way to produce more.”
“Bashevis’s Demons” was staged in a small, intimate setting, with about 50 viewers in attendance and the stage situated just a few feet from the audience. A small teleprompter was positioned above the stage, live translating the Yiddish into English so the mostly English-speaking crowd could understand what was transpiring on stage. The play featured sparse sets and a notable lack of props, leaving it up to the performers’ inventiveness and audience’s imagination to fill in visual gaps.
Baker explained that while this was partly due to financial limitation, it was mainly an artistic choice. They prefer an active, involved audience, and the lack of distance between performer and audience makes the viewer feel that they are part of the story and brings you into this old, strange world filled with demons and talking chickens: “The theatre that we think about is intimate theatre for … a bit of a limited audience … We want the viewers to actively take part in imagining what is happening, so [the sparse set] is both necessary and desired.”
Even within the limited audience, there are different levels to understanding the play. For example, I attended “Bashevis’s Demons” with my mom and dad. My dad, who understands Yiddish, most likely caught more subtleties of language and was able to pay greater attention to the acting, as he did not have to look at the teleprompter. However, my mom and I, who do not understand Yiddish, still have an advantage over other audience members as we come from an Orthodox Jewish background. There are many moments in the play, such as a demon reciting his lines in a sing-songy Talmudic cadence, or a reference to the Maharsha, whose comedic and/or dramatic effect may have been lost on non-traditional or non-Jewish members of the audience.
Nevertheless, on a broader scale, the play is enjoyable for everyone, dealing with both Jewish and universal themes of temptation, loss and hope amidst suffering. Baker even brings in outside influence, wearing a Kimono influenced by Japanese folk theatre (called Kyogen) which somewhat resembles a Tallit. He mentioned an Episcopalian priest who saw the play twice, which fulfills Baker’s goal for the play “to bring people together, and, if they don’t understand it to hopefully go back and read the stories and try to understand.”
While Bashevis’s Demons is no longer playing, Congress For Jewish Culture has multiple events set up throughout the year, and I highly recommend either going to one of these or searching out for a different Yiddish play to attend. Yiddish theatre relies on a young, active audience for growth, growth that anyone interested in Jewish culture should care for and attempt to contribute to. That way, Yiddish will continue to be “dying” for many more years to come.
Photo Caption: Shane Baker and Miryem-Khaye Seigel as a demon and rabbi in “Bashevis’s Demons.”
Photo Credit: Maria Clara Vieira Fernandes/Viver.com Yiddish
