By Rebecca Kalmar, Social Media Manager and Staff Writer
Rounding the stairs, I caught a glimpse of the stage at the CIBC Theater in Chicago, and broke into a wide grin. Shucked, a Broadway musical comedy, was on tour, and my mother and I were prepared to laugh our way through the whole show as we were pulled into the magical, enchanted world of musical theater. Everything went according to plan, until a few lines soured the entire experience I thought would be the highlight of my winter break, and left me with morally fraught questions.
Shucked is a musical comedy about corn, which is just as goofy and hilarious as it sounds. Set in the fictional Cob County, residents begin to panic when the corn they depend on for their livelihood becomes sick. Protagonist Maizy decides that the insular town must communicate with the outside world to find the answer. Maizy leaves her fiancé Beau and heads to Tampa, where she meets Gordy, a con man in disguise, who she brings back to Cob County to fix the corn.
The play is guided along by two “storytellers” who fill the role of narrators, and their jokes leave the audience rolling in their seats. A healthy dose of comedy and more than one love triangle culminate in a heartwarming lesson of love, friendship and family.
Shucked impressed me with its endless one-liners, which consistently brought laughter to the audience. It was silly, fun and relatively harmless. Eventually however, the jokes took a disturbing turn. At one point a character is on the phone with two jewelers played by the storytellers. Although not explicit, it is heavily implied that these jewelers – complete with thick European accents – are Jewish. Depicted as eccentric, mockable and money-focused, the characters are made up of a collection of antisemitic tropes aimed at garnering laughs from the crowd. Although they only appear a couple of times throughout the show, for a short amount of time, I was greatly affected by their inclusion in the story.
When introduced to the pawnbrokers, my initial reaction was to look at my mother and confirm that she was hearing what I heard. I turned my head, only to see that she had also turned to look at me in the same moment, with a disappointed frown etched across her face. Shocked and reeling, I sat there feeling betrayed. The highlight of my break was ruined. Was it too much to ask to watch a play without feeling personally attacked?
The rest of the first act was rather uncomfortable for me, as I attempted to reconcile the joy and humor of the musical with my disturbed state of mind. I expressed my discomfort to my mother during intermission, and she told me that I shouldn’t fault the actors for the playwright’s decisions. As the second act began, my unhappiness and unease slowly dissipated and I was able to enjoy the rest of the show.
After much reflection on my unpleasant experience during Shucked, one thought is crystal clear to me: casual antisemitism has no place in the theater. The Jewish people, like other minorities or marginalized groups, deserve thoughtful and respectful representation within theater, not alienation or discrimination. In some ways, this casual antisemitism is “worse” than overt Jew hatred.
Even with the current growing atmosphere of discrimination against Jews, there is a segment of the population that would find a blatant act of antisemitism to be disturbing. However, a quiet, ambiguous representation of antisemitic stereotypes is more likely to slip under the radar, and even garner laughter. This tacit acceptance of antisemitism is a slippery slope where casual disdain of Jews becomes culturally normative and leads to worse offenses.
While the idea of antisemitism in the theater is one I vehemently reject, other related concerns lack a simple answer. Who is at fault? Surely, the playwright shoulders some of the blame, but is it really true that the actors are innocent if they are “just playing a part?” Actors do have some degree of agency and are deeply connected to the characters they portray, and therefore they can’t just be let off the hook. What about the audience; where do they factor in? Whether active or passive, the audience was involved in the observance and acceptance of a problematic scene.
Should I have sat longer in a state of disturbance instead of trying to enjoy the rest of the show? Was I brushing off the casual antisemitism just like everybody else? I’ve been listening to the soundtrack on repeat, and overall I had a great time. Would it be better if I just removed it from my playlist? I don’t think so, but it’s often difficult with nuanced issues such as these to know the proper course of action.
This touches upon the ever relevant hot button topic of cancel culture. While some feel that art can be separated from the artist, others are unwilling to link themselves to those whose actions or statements they deem reprehensible. This raises complicated questions. Is it okay to pick and choose what media, books or music to consume when the offence is directed at oneself as opposed to another group? On the flip side, do people feel comfortable listening to or reading something problematic as long as they’re not the one being targeted?
It is moral hypocrisy to condemn one type of hatred while remaining silent in the face of others. The argument against antisemitism can ring hollow if we refrain from speaking out against sexism, racism, homophobia, and other forms of discrimination. Will we only take a stand when we feel personally invested?
I don’t always know where to draw the line, and it appears society doesn’t either. Preventing small acts of discrimination and hatred in the theater and elsewhere from becoming acceptable behavior seems like a good place to start.
Photo Caption: The “Shucked” playbill
Photo Credit: Rebecca Kalmar