When you’re a minority, the larger culture has a tendency of reminding you of that fact. Sometimes, that’s in direct and brutal ways.
Often, though, it’s through smaller blows: the way someone’s nose wrinkles when they see what you’ve brought in for lunch; the request to your touch your (apparently exotic) hair; or a well-meaning but ignorant assumption.
For Shirley Abramowitz, protagonist of Grace Paley’s short story “The Loudest Voice,” Christmas serves as one of those reminders. Shirley’s family doesn’t celebrate Christmas; they’re Jewish. But the school she attends celebrates it in all sorts of ways, including by staging an annual Christmas pageant or play. When Shirley’s cast in the lead—when she’s asked to play Jesus of Nazareth—well…it’s fair to say that not every member of her religious and ethnic community is thrilled by this development.
From December 4th through December 14th, Jewish Theatre Grand Rapids will stage Pulitzer Prize winner Donald Margulies’s stage adaptation of Paley’s short story, with Paul Arnold in the director’s chair. As of this writing, the part of Shirley was yet to be cast; it requires an actress who can be charismatic, funny, thoughtful, and—this last quality is what earns Shirley the part in the school’s play—loud.
In Paley’s story, grown-up Shirley reflects on the loudness of the world of her youth. “There is a certain place where dumbwaiters boom, doors slam, dishes crash; every window is a mother’s mouth bidding the street shut up, go skate somewhere else, come home. My voice is the loudest.”
Shirley, now a great-grandmother, recreates that loud, Depression-era world for her granddaughter, Clara, by sharing her memories. Despite the economic circumstances, there’s nostalgia to be enjoyed: FDR’s fireside chats were on the radio; the grocery store shelves swelled with Wheaties; the pastrami at the local deli was always terrific; and twelve-year-old Shirley was on top of the world. At least, she would have been if her mother wasn’t so concerned about her losing her identity.
The play features not just one but two pageants: one celebrating Thanksgiving, one celebrating Christmas. It’s a wealth of spectacle, warmth, and humor, as well as a reminder of how times have changed; today, it’s unlikely that any school would refer to “Indians,” but as this was the 1930s, the term “Native Americans” was not yet in common use.
But the overall mood is one of joy. Sure, stage fright must be overcome; yes, the occasional piece of scenery falls; OK, maybe conflict breaks out. But those seeming imperfections add real charm to these plays-within-plays, evoking the happiness to be found in working together toward a shared goal. And that joy is thickened by the addition of voices: Brooklyn voices, many of them Jewish. (What would theater be without Jewish voices?)
Margulies wrote Coney Island Christmas at the request of Gil Cates, a late friend. Cates called him up one day, asking, “Why don’t you write a Christmas play?” This wasn’t an obvious suggestion, not least because Margulies is Jewish, but he took to the challenge. Having read Paley’s story years before, he re-read it. It was short, too short for a play. But he found ways to expand it, always while maintaining the emotional core: Shirley. Meanwhile, the cast of characters grew, the humor got ratcheted up, and deeper notes were introduced.
Paley’s story touches on identity but in a very light, funny way. Margulies’s play keeps the humor in place while introducing starker conflict, that of a girl whose mother, for one, would rather she not make the choices she’s making (her father, who once also wanted to act, is more cheerfully tolerant).
Rather than make this a black-and-white issue—the repressive mother vs. the enlightened modern girl, or the insensitive school vs. the defenders of the faith—Margulies extends his empathy in all directions. The community’s right to worry: it’s easy enough to lose what makes you distinctive when sitting in a melting pot. Shirley’s right to want to perform: she has a gift, and she deserves to use it. And, while the school could be more sensitive, it’s welcoming her into the Christmas season, rather than excluding her from it.
That’s a lot to pack into a short play, but Coney Island Christmas manages the feat without ever showing any strain. It feels stuffed, not overstuffed, like a holiday stocking should. It’s a feel-good, funny, thoughtful play, one appropriate for audiences of all ages and backgrounds.
Audience members will walk away feeling warmer than when they entered the theater, exactly what you want during the holidays. They may take away something to think about, too. It’s easy enough to quiet yourself, to still your voice, to not speak up. By embracing her loudness, Shirley does more than put on a good performance. She triumphs.
Coney Island Christmas
Jewish Theatre GR
160 Fountain St. NE, Grand Rapids
Dec. 4-14
jtgr.org
