For months, I regretted not making the trip to New York to see “Leopoldstadt” on Broadway. Everyone was talking about the 2022 show—not just the usual, “Oh, it’s so good; you need to see it,” but, “It’s really powerful, and you shouldn’t miss it.”
So when The Huntington reached out a few months ago to let me know they would be mounting the show and asked if JArts would like to be a partner, I immediately said yes.
This week, JArts co-hosted the final preview evening, a beautiful gathering of the Jewish community before the opening night. Surrounded by friends and colleagues from across the community, I was ready to experience this latest work by the great playwright Tom Stoppard.
The play begins in Vienna in 1899, which was famously a golden age for Jews. The family at the center of the story is wealthy, proud leaders and philanthropists in this cultural epicenter.
Assimilation lies at the heart of the play, serving as a recurring theme throughout. A powerful exchange between two lead characters captures much of the show’s essence and the existential questions of identity that it portrays:
Hermann: “We literally worship culture, and when we make money, that’s what the money is for. To put us at the beating heart of Viennese culture. This is the promised land.”
Ludwig: “Hermann, assimilation doesn’t mean to stop being a Jew. Your incidental effect would be the end of Judaism. Assimilation means to carry on being a Jew without insult.”
The line “to carry on being a Jew without insult” struck me because it feels like this is at the heart of the moment we are living in now. After Oct. 7, one of the most common debates I hear is whether or not to wear Jewish stars in public because of the tension between Jewish pride and fear of reactions. This debate and others in the play are exact parallels of discussions I hear today—about assimilation, what it means to be Jewish, whether or not we feel Israel is central to the Jewish story. The nuanced conversation is a model of what we need more of today.
Beyond its eerily timely lessons, in “Leopoldstadt” I found a reflection of my own family’s story—a narrative that, while it felt personal down to the names in the family tree, also inspired me in its universal appeal.
The play feels compelling and personal because it is. I learned from the director that Tom Stoppard wrote this play after his mother’s death, and it was only later, while speaking with his aunt, that he uncovered this complex family history. With its introspective look at the struggle between holding on to and letting go of family roots, the play offers much for audiences of all backgrounds, particularly resonating with Jewish viewers.
In addition to a complex script, which spans 50 years and multiple generations, I found the interwoven narrative of a family painting captivating. Early in the play, the family patriarch discusses the painter who is creating a portrait of his wife, and we are meant to imagine this painter is the great Gustav Klimt, who was known for painting Jewish women. The show concludes with the reclamation of the painting after it was looted by the Nazis. These artistic and cultural touchstones add depth to the play and provide a visceral connection to its themes.
I’m glad I was finally able to see this play, and to experience it in a moment of such existential fear within the Jewish community because it reminded me that this is not the first time—or likely the last time—that the Jewish people will face these conversations. The play provides a model of dialogue and connection that I believe we all need.
“Leopoldstadt” runs at The Huntington through Oct. 13. Don’t miss it like I did on Broadway!
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