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Some named names, some didn’t, but it’s not just a story of good guys and bad guys
It was written in 1972 and takes place between 1947 and 1959. It consists of testimony given before the infamous House Committee on Un-American Activities, which damaged or destroyed the lives of many people in the entertainment world during the Communist scare and the blacklisting of the 1940s and 50s. But for its Tony-winning director, Anna D. Shapiro, Are You Now, Or Have You Ever Been, a docudrama that is being revived at New York City Center, is relevant today — in more ways than one.
“I think that everybody will enter this play from a different perspective, because it’s in conversation with things that we’re dealing with as a country right now,” Shapiro told me over the phone. “For instance, my producer, Jeffrey Richards, who is of a certain generation, for him, it’s just deeply about freedom of expression. He has spent his whole life making art, championing artists, and the idea that he feels like we’re moving towards, which we clearly are, is a more fascist behavior around freedom of expression. He wants to remind people how dangerous some of these moves from the current administration are.”
“But I’m just a little bit younger than Jeffrey,” Shapiro, 60, continued. “I did the play when I was in college. So I was probably 22, 23, actually, just finishing college. And it was very clear then, right? It was about good guys and bad guys, and it was very easy to demonize the people who named names and champion the people who were brave enough not to name names. And now, as I’m older, I realize there’s a lot more complexity when the entire system is coming after you in a way that makes you feel like your entire livelihood is threatened. So on one level, it’s one thing for Arthur Miller not to name names. It was Arthur Miller. They weren’t going to be able to destroy Arthur Miller. But it’s another thing for an actor whose career is fading and who doesn’t have any control over his destiny to be kind of pushed into naming names. And I think that that’s what interests me, which is how difficult it becomes to be good in America, how difficult that is becoming, how terrifying and terrorizing the current administration is.”
The play, by Eric Bentley, highlights testimony by some of those — Jerome Robbins, Elia Kazan, Larry Parks, Abe Burrows — who named names of Communist Party associates and some of those who didn’t, such as Arthur Miller, Paul Robeson, Lillian Hellman, Lionel Stander. It features a rotating cast that includes Steven Pasquale, Molly Ringwald, Santino Fontana and Bob Odenkirk.
Bentley, who died in 2020 at age 103, taught dramatic literature at Columbia University during the 1950’s and 60s. He was a champion and translator of the German playwright Bertolt Brecht. Shapiro won her Tony for Tracy Letts’ August: Osage County and is a former artistic director of the famed Steppenwolf Theatre Company in Chicago. Most recently on Broadway she directed the Tony-winning revival of Eureka Day.
‘Of course they were antisemitic’
Six of the Hollywood Ten screenwriters and directors who were blacklisted and sent to prison for their refusals to testify were Jews. In the Bentley play, Miller, Robbins, Hellman, Stander and Burrows are Jewish.
As the play records, one key committee member, John E. Rankin of Mississippi, a known racist who was called out for his antisemitism, insisted on reading out the birth names of actors who he presumed to be Jewish, such as June Havoc (June Hovick), Danny Kaye (David Daniel Kaminsky), Eddie Cantor (Edward Iskowitz), Edward G. Robinson (Emanuel Goldenberg) and Melvyn Douglas (Melvyn Hesselberg).
“Of course they were antisemitic,” Shapiro said. “One of the things that they went out of their way to point out was how many of the actors and directors in Hollywood had changed their names and that their original names were so clearly Jewish. For them, this exposed a kind of nefariousness. They assumed a nefarious intent, as opposed to being what it really was, which was a way for Jews to defend themselves and keep themselves safe from antisemitism by changing their names, to be able to be in the public eye in a way that was less dangerous for them.”
The committee, she said, “twisted that and said, see, all these people, all of these people in Hollywood, are pretending not to be Jews, but they are, and they’re the problem.”
Actually, though, she said, “when you really look at what being a quote-unquote Communist was in this time, for the most part, these were essentially Democratic socialists. They were people who had gotten a little lucky, were making a little money. Many of them for the first time in their families. And they wanted to help the underdog. They wanted to look at what was corrupt in the system and make things better for people. They weren’t ‘burn the system down.’ They weren’t those people.”
Many Jews were victims of blacklisting, but many top executives in Hollywood who perpetrated or supported blacklisting were themselves Jewish. One reason, of course, was fear of the committee and other anti-Communist zealots like Wisconsin Senator Joseph R. McCarthy. But there was another.
“I think that’s our complex history, isn’t it?” Shapiro said. “And we’re in a complex moment as Jewish people. We have been in such a conversation with our existential threats. And what we think of as the solution to that very, very real historic and current threat. And what I appreciate about you bringing that up is that Jews are not a monolith. Right now, that’s happening again, right? I disagree actively with my older brother, right? Now, what we don’t disagree with each other about is that we’re Jews.”
Making an impact
Although Shapiro says her family were not practicing Jews, she said she is very conscious of her Jewish heritage. “My mother didn’t practice primarily because she was a Marxist and she didn’t believe in God. And also, quite frankly, she was raised in a very conservative Jewish household. And the sexism of her day, of when they were in shul, the women were upstairs. Every Friday night, her grandmother would cook everything and eat in the kitchen. So she saw a lot of the sexism. And that really made her walk away from her Judaism. But with both of my parents, whenever Judaism was being attacked or somebody wanted to take it away from them, they would fight for it.”
“What I’ve realized, Shapiro went on to say, “is how without practicing, without going to shul, without even celebrating Passover, my Judaism is in my body, and it informs decisions I make. I think it’s the reason that I’ve done so much work around equity and systemic racism and systemic sexism. I think I essentially understand that part of my task is to seek justice, and to make an impact in the world.”
So what impact would she like the play to make on audiences?
“I always say that I direct plays really for one reason, and that is to make the audience’s world bigger. And that really only happens two ways, right? You go into a theater and you either see something familiar and you go, wow, there’s other people like me, or you go into the theater and you see something so different from your own experience and you think, my God, the world is so much bigger than I know. In this play, based on the way that you calibrate the performances, you can either make a very black and white statement, or you can make more nuanced and ambiguous statements.”
She agrees with the philosophy, she said, that every society’s survival is based on its ability to embrace ambiguity.
“And where we are right now — and I’m not even talking about on the right, because I don’t have anything to say about the right. They’re very confusing to me. So I can only speak to the people with whom I share essential beliefs. I think that we are not talking to one another well. I think we are looking at black and white and good and evil, and it’s way more complex than that. So I hope people come away going, wow, I really thought it was just going to be like the good guys who didn’t name names and the bad guys who named names.”
‘Are You Now Or Have You Ever Been’ runs through Sept. 11 at City Center in New York.
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Eliya Smith says plot is what happens when you’re busy doing nothing
Eliya Smith’s dad has seen her play Dad Don’t Read This. He’s kvelled at its every iteration.
“He’s always like, ‘Are people gonna know that I’m Dad?’” Smith, 28, said on the day of the Knicks Victory Parade. The streets of the West Village, where we met for coffee, were teeming with orange and blue; she was wearing a baseball cap with some sort of bird, a heron or maybe a penguin, swallowing a fish.
“I always think it’s funny that he’s like, ‘I’m here and I have no complicated feelings.’”
Smith’s father isn’t the title character of the piece, which is about four high school friends, the computer game The Sims and the existential angst of adolescence, but technically he is. Smith started writing the show about a decade ago, during Thanksgiving break from Harvard. She needed the pages printed and emailed them to her father with the injunction as a kind of title page. (The following page read, “If you’re reading this page, it means you started to read. Stop reading.”)
The play is a work of fiction, as are all its characters. But the real-life command became a guiding principle — and the first lines — of the show.
“There is like a sort of frame of, ‘This play isn’t for you,’” said Smith, a former Forward editorial fellow who, last year made her Off-Broadway debut with the play Grief Camp. “I think the audience should reckon with the experience of watching it. Not that I’m like, ‘Fuck you for coming to my play,’ I’ll always be grateful, but I think my favorite parts of the play are when it really feels like they’re like doing the play for each other.”
Dad Don’t Read This is what Smith calls her first real, full play. Unsatisfied with her earlier attempts, she took a crack at writing what she knew: boredom and Ohio (in her mind synonymous) and the endless hours she spent in her basement chatting with friends. That and The Sims, the life simulator where players construct the world and circumstances of flailing, gibberish-spewing suburbanites.
“When I was in high school, I feel like I would sometimes play The Sims and be like, ‘If only it were this easy,’” Smith said. She had a cheat code that could defy Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs: When a Sim had to pee, you could drag the need away. She found herself thinking, “’I wish I could do that for myself, that I could just like drag away the sadness.”
In the show, this sentiment is embodied by Mal (Amalia Yoo, hot off her turn as another high schooler in the midst of a best friend breakup in John Proctor is the Villain), who tries to manipulate her friends the way she does her pixilated people.
Smith isn’t Mal, but the character’s Ohio ennui (Smith’s from Columbus) and some of her feelings are true to her high school self. OK, Smith’s like her in one way: She, like Mal, had a cousin who gave her a Sims cheat code for unlimited money.
The connection between the world of The Sims, and the control it signifies, has a natural extension in playwriting.
“You become a playwright because you have control issues,” Smith conceded. “When I’m writing it on the page, I can manipulate the characters how I want, and then we start rehearsing it, and I lose a little more control, and then it’s like the more the play becomes its own thing.
“I think it is actually the reason I became a playwright, because I love the moment where my desire to control everything is sort of overruled,” Smith said. Still, it’s often painful for her to be present as her words are performed.
About the hat — the one with the bird — she often feels the need to wear one when she sits in the audience, not to be incognito (she’s been told it makes her more conspicuous) but to block some of her field of vision so she doesn’t have to see some patron sigh or look at their phone.
Smith and I move from the coffee shop — whose vibe she compares, no shade, to the fast fashion brand Brandy Melville — over to the Greenwich House Theatre, where Dad Don’t Read This just transferred from St. Luke’s Theatre in midtown, earning a New York Times Critic’s Pick.
We plop into swivel chairs in the dressing room and catch up. Eliya left the Forward in 2021 to go to grad school at UT Austin. She’s only really been living in New York full time for about a year, calling Park Slope home. Life in Austin, she said, felt almost like an extension of high school in Ohio. She’d drive around bored with her friends. She misses the heat.
“I feel like there’s a sort of leveling thing that happens,” she said between sips of her iced coffee. “I feel like in New York you like get off the subway and you somehow are supposed to not be sweaty from being like packed in with hundreds of other people underground, and I feel like in Texas it’s so hot that it’s just totally fine, everyone is kind of disheveled and gross, and it’s just like what the vibe is, and I feel like it’s really equalizing, like ‘We’re all like looking not our best,’ and I liked that.”
She has yet to write her Texas play — or her New York one.
“I feel like everything I write is on a five-year delay,” said Smith, whose produced plays often circle the Buckeye State. (Last season’s Grief Camp took place in Virginia, but also followed young people; another play, about Holocaust memory, was called Deadclass, Ohio and, aptly, played at the New Ohio Theatre in Manhattan.) “Until I was like 23 I was like I can only write about being 17.”
Her new projects, Two Girls, a metatheatrical work about a shock porn video, and Biography (her least autobiographical piece to date), are departures.
It’s hard to explain the exact vibe of Dad Don’t Read This. Some have likened Smith’s work to Annie Baker, who she knows from UT Austin. I propose, in moments, it approaches Chekhov at a sleepover. Smith says she would never compare herself to the Russian master, but is happy to sing his praises. Though I meant this as a compliment, it could be seen as critique: On the surface, there isn’t much of a plot.
“I often joke that I don’t like plot,” Smith said. “But that actually isn’t true. I rigorously plot all my plays, it’s just the plot is like: This character is deeply wounded because of the perceived subtext from a line about a soda, and to me, that is plot.”
She also believes Top Gun: Maverick is the best movie ever in part because of how much happens. You can tell she is sincere, while knowing this is somewhat absurd to discuss in the same breath as The Cherry Orchard.
“You can have great art like Top Gun: Maverick, that is very sort of like there’s a story and these are all the beats, and you can also have Chekhov where the plot is like a wound that you couldn’t even name.”
Ineffable feelings are the engine of Dad Don’t Read This. Mal and her friends try and fail to articulate just what is going on in their little lives, where the inconsequential is the only thing that matters.
While firmly of a generation — it’s set in 2014, the actors are a few years younger than Smith — the play has found older admirers. Helen Shaw of The New York Times ranked it one of her top shows of the season. The New Yorker’s Adam Gopnik will participate in a “Dad Affinity Night” on June 28.
The key to its connection may well be what’s absent from the stage — smart phones and social media are nowhere to be seen. It’s intentional.
“We like don’t have boredom anymore, because we have phones, and so I’ve been trying to figure out how do I put characters in a situation where they can be extremely bored and where that can be dramatically intriguing,” Smith said. “And also, like, how do I make boredom resonate with an audience that doesn’t experience boredom because we look at our phones, and I do feel like being bored in Ohio is like something that I knew so intimately.”
Onstage at the Greenwich House Theatre, boredom lives. And it’s riveting.
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Shots fired in Jewish neighborhood of Montreal
(JTA) — Montreal police said an alleged shooter in a neighborhood known for its large Jewish population had been “neutralized” after killing one police officer and wounding another officer and a civilian Monday.
“A suspect has been neutralized,” the official police account posted on X after advising residents Côte-des-Neiges to stay indoors. “Two police officers and one citizen have been injured. The police operation is still underway. Continue to avoid the area. Further details to follow.”
The Montreal Gazette later reported that the suspect and the civilian also were dead.
It was not clear if the intended targets were Jewish, but a Chabad emissary in the neighborhood told Ynet, an Israeli news site, that a nearby building was targeted and that he was sheltering about 100 people.
The Yeshiva World News news site posted a video of a SWAT team swarming around a home belonging to a family affiliated with Chabad, the Orthodox Jewish movement.
Côte-des-Neiges was the scene of postwar Jewish settlement as Jewish families ascending from the working to the middle class moved west from the area of St. Laurent Boulevard. The area, with treelined streets studded with duplexes and low-rise apartment buildings, had a friendly neighborhood ambience and lacked the anti-Jewish restrictions some of the wealthier enclaves maintained at the time.
There are a number of Jewish schools and synagogues in the area, including the Spanish and Portuguese synagogue, the oldest congregation in the country, established in 1768 and which moved to the neighborhood in 1947. The neighborhood is now the site of a large Chabad community and a number of Jewish restaurants and delis.
This is a developing story.
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Everyone was a fan of Clive Davis — even if they didn’t know it
Last September I spent about 30 seconds with Clive Davis in a crowded elevator.
I was in the Sony Building, having just seen a press screening of Richard Linklatter’s Blue Moon. The elevator was full of mostly young people — probably Sony employees — and some press. The doors pinged open and in stepped a man with two handlers and an adorable spaniel. I turned to a fellow journalist and whispered “That’s Clive Davis.”
Someone who knew Clive — enough to call him “Clive” — told him we’d just seen a movie about the creative breakup between lyricist Lorenz Hart and musical composer Richard Rodgers.
“Didn’t you play Janis Joplin for Richard Rodgers,” he asked Davis.
Davis replied with perfect comic timing: “Yes. He hated it.”
That anecdote tells us just how much Davis, the legendary music executive and producer who died Monday June 22 at the age of 94, changed the musical landscape.
Davis had been in the music business long enough to serve as a bridge figure between the Great American Songbook and the popular music of the latter half of the 20th Century. The artists he signed at CBS, and later Arista (he was ousted from the CBS/Columbia for allegedly using company money to finance his son’s bar mitzvah), are enduring icons even, in the case of Ms. Joplin, decades after their deaths.
But what hit me in the elevator was the feeling that not everyone there knew who he was. They did, of course, know the music: Pink Floyd, P!nk, Whitney Houston, Sly and the Family Stone, Barry Manilow, Neil Diamond, Leonard Cohen, Bruce Springsteen and Aerosmith, the very authors of “Love in an Elevator.”
It’s not overstating it to say that Davis’ influence across genres and his golden ear provided the soundtrack to American life. His own life was productive until the end.
He was in the Sony building because he was Chief Creative Officer at the company. A week before his death, the streets were thumping with a New York anthem from one of his late career discoveries: Alicia Keys.
Davis’ rise could be taught in Jewish Studies courses. Born in working-class Crown Heights, he — like Barba Streisand — was a graduate of Erasmus Hall High. He made good at NYU and got his law degree at Harvard.
He rose from the legal department at Columbia to become the company’s top tastemaker. Somewhere along the way he discovered Joplin — of a polar opposite disposition and background — and went from strength to strength.
Davis’ true triumph might have been just how adept he was at navigating everything the U.S. had to offer. The musicians he promoted had little in common save for his imprimatur.
In that elevator, which delivered us without much fuss to the lobby, there may have been people whose musical tastes gravitated to rock, R&B, jam bands, easy listening, guitar instrumentals and jazz.
Whether they knew it or not, Davis shepherded something they liked into existence. His genius was in recognizing genius.
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