“Abzug-lutely”
One night after I saw The
Great Society, the second play in Robert Schenkkan’s epic diptych
about Pres. Lyndon Baines Johnson, the play I was watching, Bella Bella,
not only heavily referenced the 36th POTUS but, even more coincidentally,
quoted his famous line about not seeking the nomination of his party, which headlined
my review.
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| Harvey Fierstein. All photos: Jeremy Daniel. |
Fierstein (Torch Song Trilogy, Kinky Boots), the
buzz saw-voiced actor-playwright who can do drag with the best of them, did not
originally intend to play “Battling Bella,” but, given his dipped-in-New York/Yiddishkeit
persona, it’s hard to think of anyone (male or female) who could more delightfully
have brought her to raging life, warts and all. Still, it’s ironic that a man
is playing a woman whose life was largely dedicated to giving women equal
rights with men. Whoever the actress might have been, a man took her job!
Abzug, the profane, colorfully outspoken, antiwar, feminist activist
and politician, known for her broadbrimmed, eye-catching hats, served productively
in the House of Representatives from 1970-1976, when—seeking to break into the
then entirely male Senate—she lost her run to Daniel Patrick Moynihan. And not
by much.
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| Harvey Fierstein. |
It’s unlikely that anyone not familiar with New York
politics of the 60s and 70s would find the name-dropping world of Bella
Bella particularly enthralling, although Abzug had a mouth on her that
could have served equally well for a career in stand-up comedy. Those who remember
her (what New Yorker from those days cannot?) will find Fierstein’s Abzug a sharp-tongued,
very funny, and still absolutely relevant figure. She took no crap for her radical
beliefs, never wavering in her support of her favorite causes.
Fierstein, smartly directed by Kimberly Senior, makes the unusual
choice not to play the part in drag, or to do much to make himself particularly
“feminine.” Somewhat stockier than the amply proportioned Abzug, he performs
barefoot (with red toenails), in black slacks and a black shirt (Rita Ryack
gets the design credit). He wears no makeup other than, perhaps, some lip rouge;
his hair—no wig—is its natural silver. A large, circular red hat, not donned
until the end, is prominently displayed, reminding us of Abzug’s trademark prop.
The setup places Abzug in a dressing room/cum bathroom (perfectly
designed by John Lee Beatty and lit by Tyler Micoleau), in the Summit Hotel (now
the Doubletree) on Lexington Avenue, at two a.m. in September 1976. As she waits
to learn whether she’ll win a five-candidate, Democratic primary, giving her a
shot at becoming New York’s first woman senator, she provides her narrative without
saying why we’re being addressed, a problem endemic to many of these solo plays.
Abzug rambles through her memories in a digressive, "I-just-thought-of-this" manner, sometimes addressing particular spectators. She waves her hand in yenta-like
“listen to this” style, tosses off politically stinging zingers, speaks with a light
Eastern European-inflected intonation, and laces her lines with Yiddish,
usually offering a translation. When she mentions a pishke, for example, she
says it’s a tin can for collecting money, adding, “you can’t ask Jews for money
in a piggybank.”
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| Harvey Fierstein. |
For 90 minutes, interrupted a couple of times for updates by
her husband, Martin, at the door (where he remains unseen), Abzug chats about her
fierce feminism, including the need to have more women in politics; her reasons
for disdaining five modern presidents (like FDR, whom she accuses of having
done too little to prevent the Holocaust); refers amusingly to prominent feminists
like Gloria Steinem and Betty Friedan (who gets a wisecrack about her looks); and outlines her career as an activist
and labor lawyer.
She gets a laugh when she says her father, a butcher, had a shop
called The Live and Let Live Meat Market; tells us that she went to Columbia because
Harvard didn’t accept women; reveals that she began wearing hats to ensure no
one took her for a secretary; explains her outspoken anti-Vietnam War position;
informs us of her work for gay civil rights; mentions her pro-Nixon impeachment
stance; covers her HUAC activity; reviews the promise and tragedy of RFK; reminds
us of her hand in releasing the Pentagon Papers; and, naturally, informs us of
why she went into politics.
Abzug touches on numerous other people (John Lindsay,
Richard Nixon, Shirley Chisholm, Paul Robeson, Ed Koch, etc., etc.) and events.
Particular emphasis is devoted to her struggle between 1950 and 1951—it contributed
to the pregnant Abzug’s miscarriage—to prevent the execution of Willie McGee, a
black man from Mississippi accused of having raped a white woman (their affair
was consensual).
By the end of her discourse, you realize that, beyond the façade of a personality, wit, and intellect that makes Donald Trump look like Donald Duck, she was a unique and awesome woman the likes of which we could use right now. If Abzug were alive and running for president, though, it’s doubtful she’d have the wide appeal to challenge the incumbent. But, boy, would it be fun to hear her give her two cents worth.
By the end of her discourse, you realize that, beyond the façade of a personality, wit, and intellect that makes Donald Trump look like Donald Duck, she was a unique and awesome woman the likes of which we could use right now. If Abzug were alive and running for president, though, it’s doubtful she’d have the wide appeal to challenge the incumbent. But, boy, would it be fun to hear her give her two cents worth.
Did I enjoy Bella Bella? As a prospective campaign
button once shouted: “Abzug-lutely.”
City Center Stage 1
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