All language subtitles for 有伤风化 2018 1080p.Indecent

-Ladies, gentlemen,

our actors, who play many,
many roles tonight!

First, the founding members of
our troupe.

Vera Parnicki
and Otto Godowsky.

They play all of the fathers,
all of the mothers,

the sagest of our characters,

or the ones who remain fools
at any age.

And the members of our troupe in
their prime!

Halina Cygansky
and Mendel Schultz!

They play all of the vamps,
all of the vice,

the scarred,
and the schemers.

And our ingénues!

Chana Mandelbaum,
Avram Zederbaum.

All the brides,
all of the grooms,

the writers, the socialists.

So ardent in their beliefs,

so passionate
in their lovemaking.

On violin: Nelly Friedman!

On clarinet: Mayer Balsam!

And on accordion:
Mr. Moriz Godowsky.

My name is Lemml.
You can also call me Lou.

I'm the stage manager tonight --

usually you can find me
backstage.

We have a story
we want to tell you

about a play --

a play that changed my life.

Every night
we tell this story,

but somehow

I can never remember the end.

Eh, no matter.

I can remember
how it begins.

It all starts
with this moment.

-Remember this!

Un mir Zaynene ale brider,
oy, oy ale brider

Un mit zingen freylekhe
lider, oy oy oy

Un mir haltn zikh in eynemn,
oy oy zik in eynem

Azelkes iz nisht do bay
keynem, oy oy oy

Oy yoy yoy yoy de yoy

Yeah, yeah, yeah!

Oy yoy yoy yoy de yoy

-Oh!
-Oh?

-Ohh...
-Ohh?

As in, oh, it's awful?

As in, oh,
how do I tell him?

As in, oh, whom did I marry?

-Ohh!
-Are you crying?

-I can't breathe!

"Oh," as in,
"it's wonderful."

Oh, it's so sad.
I-I, I love it.

-Really?
-Really.

-What do you love?

-My God, Sholem.
I-It's all in there.

The roots of all evil:
the -- the money,

the subjugation of women,
the false piety...

the -- the terrifying
violence of that father...

and then...
Oh, Sholem,

the two girls
in the rain scene!

My God, the poetry in it!

What is it about your writing
that makes me hold my breath?

You make me feel the desire
between these two women

is the purest, most chaste,
most spiritual --

-It is!
Madje, are you angry

that I stole your words
for the virgin daughter?

-If Papa had come downstairs
and discovered his little Madje

in flagrante...!
-I would never have made it

to the huppah alive.

-It is interesting to hear your
words the night

you seduced me
in the mouth of a prostitute.

-I feel like a prostitute every
time I have to pander to

Mr. Peretz for a reading
in his salon.

-This play will cause
a sensation tomorrow night!

All the other writers will be
green with envy.

-Don't bring down the evil eye!
Mr. Peretz could hate it.

-Mr. Peretz is a lovely man

but he's so 19th century.

Warsaw is a provincial
little town!

This play will be done all over
the world --

Berlin, Moscow, Paris!

Oh, oh! I know who would be
perfect for the father!

Rudolph Schildkraut!

-Who?
-Rudolph Schildkraut

is a sensation right now
in Berlin

with his "Merchant of Venice."

I'll ask Papa
for money to send you.

We've got to get this play
to him!

-It's my first play!
-Our play will catch fire

in Berlin!

All the German intelligentsia
can talk about right now

is Dr. Freud!

It's the twentieth century!

We're all attracted
to both sexes.

I promise I'll understand if you
become attracted to a man...

But I'll kill you if it's
another woman.

-I promise I'll understand if
you get attracted to a woman

as long as I can watch.

-My God, I am now married
to a playwright!

You're my warrior!
My suffragette!

-Your lesbian?

-"Teach me. Take me."

-"I want to taste you."

-Hey!

-First of all I just want to say
what a great honor it is

to have this opportunity
to be -- to be under

Mr. Peretz' roof, to be standing
here in front of all of these

writers whose work has been
an inspiration...

-"The God Of Vengeance."

-A 130-page, three-act play.

What a prodigy!

Does anyone mind
if Lemml sits in?

He's my third cousin from Lodz.

-Well, a little shtetl outside
Balut actually...

-He's a tailor from Balut,
he's never seen a play!

-Lemml!
Take a seat, take a seat!

-Sir, sir.

It is a real honor, sir.

-Welcome.
-Oy.

Another play set in a brothel.

-Why are so many men writing
brothel stories?

-Research.

-Oh, uh, yeah, uh --

Mr. Peretz, Mr. Peretz,
would you read Yekel?

-You want Mr. Peretz to play
the owner of a brothel?

-I want him to play
the protagonist.

He has the most lines.
-Ah!

I will do my humble best.

-Lazar you read Rifkele.

The daughter -- she's 17,

she's pure,
and very beautiful.

Isaac, her mother, Sarah -
smart, ambitious,

an ex-prostitute.

Nakhmen, you read Manke
the prostitute.

She is in her twenties; she is
the beauty of Yekel's stable.

Don't use your chest voice.

I will read
the stage directions.

As the curtain rises,

we find ourselves in Yekel's
cozy home

over the basement where his
brothel is located.

There he lives with his virgin
daughter and his wife...

-Woman, I am not going to warn
you again.

When I took you from my
whorehouse I told you,

keep my home apart
from my whores!

I'd better not catch Rifkele
in Manke's company again!

Up here lives
my virgin daughter,

worthy of marrying
the best of men.

Like the Kosher from the traif!

Keep the two worlds apart!

-"Manke enters,
nuzzling Rifkele.

Washed in the rain,

their soaked nightgowns
drip water to the floor."

-Are you shivering, Rifkele?
Warm yourself --

rub up against me,
that feels --

-Higher voice, please!

- Rest your face against my brea-

Wait. Wait.
Am I still a woman here?

Saying this to another woman?
I am not reading this garbage.

-Read Manke's lines,
starting with

"Rest your face against
my breasts."

-You want me to say the word
"breasts" in this living room?

-Just read, damn it!

-Rest your face against,
against...

against my...

breasts.

Yes, oh, yes.

And embrace me with your body.

I laid bare your...breasts

and washed them
in the rain.

You smell like grass
in the meadows...

Do you want me to, Rifkele,
do you want us to?

-None of us are reading
this garbage!

-Well, perhaps we should
call it a --

-Wait, wait, wait.
You have to read both women.

Manke and Rifkele.
Please.

-I have never done one woman,
Mr. Asch, much less two!

-Okay, okay, okay.
You Read Rifkele.

I'll be Manke.

-You smell like grass
in the meadows.

Do you want me to Rifkele, do
you want us to?

-Yes. Yes.

Teach me.

Take me.

I want to taste you.

-I can't breathe.

-Rifkele, you ran away with
Manke last night.

Don't tell me
where she took you.

Daughter, just tell me:
Are you still a virgin?

Let me see right into your eyes!

Right into your eyes!

-I don't know.

-What do you mean
you don't know!

Are you still a --
-Oh, but it's all right

for you to do?

I know who you are
and what you do!

-I'll tell you what you know.

You know what this Torah cost?

It cost
all of the whores downstairs

on their backs and their knees
for a year!

And for what?
Look at me.

God wants me to fail
as a father?

As a husband?

Well there's one thing I know
How to do --

-Make money.
-You are both paying me back!

On your backs.
On your knees.

Down into the whorehouse
with you!

And take the Holy Scroll
with you!

I don't need it anymore!

-Yekel hurls down the Torah.

End of play.

-This is theatre?!

Oh. Oh, Mr. Asch.

It is wonderful.

-Are you crying?

Asch has desecrated
the Torah!

-My character Yekel does,
I do not!

-But it's not a real Torah,
right, Mr. Asch?

It is a make-believe Torah!
-Grandmother Rochel's

daughter's son, you are way out
of your depths here.

I brought you here as a favor
to your mother.

-It was a very big favor,
cousin.

-"Do you want me to, Rifkele,
do you want us to? Yes, yes..."

-How can you let
Nakhmen laugh at me!

-We need to have
a civil discourse,

no matter what the young men
in my living room do.

Or write.

-My soul is in these pages!

-Asch, Asch,
who is your audience?

-I want to write for everyone.
-Yes.

-You told me we need plays in
Yiddish that are universal.

-Plays that represent our people
as valiant, heroic --

-Why must every Jew on
the stage be a paragon?!

-You are representing our people
as prostitutes and pimps!

-Some of our people are!
-You are pouring petrol

on the flames of anti-Semitism.

This is not the time.
-When!

When will be the right time?

-For God's sake, Asch!

Write what you know, young man!

How many whorehouses
have you worked in?

--Excuse me.

-Ah, yes.
It's time for my medicine.

Thank you, my dear.

-And did you have a nice
reading, Mr. Asch?

-Oh, um, yes, ma'am.

-I loved your last short story,
"A Shtetl."

So lyrical.

There seems to be much
excitement in the house.

Excitement is not the best thing
for Mr. Peretz' digestion.

-We won't keep him much longer.

-I think I've had enough
excitement myself.

Excuse me.

-Mr. Peretz-it is because of you
that we are creating

a Yiddish renaissance.

-Come, come --

Yiddish is our mother tongue.

The language of our myths,
our songs...

-Our streets.
Our gutters.

Our desire.
-At the end of every day

I come home from work, kiss my
wife and go into this study.

And four nights a week

I try to write something for
the Jewish people.

It may get no further than this
living room,

but it's for us.

-I am not happy to produce one
slim volume of poetry

every two or three years that
gets read in your living room.

I am not ashamed that I want our
stories to be on every stage

in every language.

-You cannot translate
this hateful play!

If you must throw stones,
throw them outside the tent.

-Oy veh iz mir.
This is a play

written by a Jew
who hates Jews!

-Do you know what a minyan is?
It's ten Jews in a circle

accusing each other of
anti-Semitism.

-Sholem!

You will be torn limb from limb
if the public sees this play.

Listen to me --
about your manuscript?

Burn it.

-Mr. Lemml,
may I buy you a drink?

I am taking my stones outside
the tent with me.

I've always wanted
to see Berlin.

Wunderscheon ist's
in Paris

Auf der Rue Madeleine

Schoen ist es im Mai in Rom

Durch Die Stadt zu gehn'n

Oder eine Sommernacht

Still beim Wein in Wien

Doch Ich hang,
wenn ihr auch lacht

Heut' noch an Berlin

Ich hab' noch einen Koffer
in Berlin

Deswegen muss ich naechstens
wider hin

Die Seligkeiten
verging'er Zeiten

Sind alle noch in meinem
kleinen Koffer drin

Ich hab' noch einen Koffer
in Berlin

Der bleibt auch dort und das
hat Seinen Sinn

-Auf diese Weise

Lohnt sich die Reise

Denn wenn ich Sehnsucht hab'
dann Fahr' ich wieder hin

Auf diese Weise

Lohnt sich die Reise

Denn wenn ich Sehnsucht hab'
dann Fahr' ich wieder hin

-You! You must be
Fraulein Elsa!

-I cannot believe I get to be in
a play with the legendary

Frieda Niemann!

-Please, please, the legend is
flesh and blood,

I assure you.

Have you read the script?

-Oh, yes, several times.

It's very daring, I think.

-Oh, good.
You can explain it all to me.

-You haven't read it?
-No.

I like to find the role
through intuition.

Of course, when Rudolph came
to me --

"Freida, we have a role,

this young boy must have been
thinking of you

when he wrote it" --
I positively peppered him

with questions --
How do these women live?

How do they dress?
What do they do in bed,

and how do they do it?

-You mean prostitutes?
-Good God, no!

We all know
what prostitutes do!

-Oh, so -- so you asked him
about about...

lesbians?

-You better learn how to say
the word out loud, my girl.

Four weeks from today we will be
kissing center stage.

By the way, my left profile
is my good profile.

I mean, I haven't read the play,

but I assume
I will be the butch,

and you will be the feminine
little thing.

Well, on one thing I am
completely lost at sea --

How do I play a Jew?

Or is the proper word "Jewess"?

-Uh, Mrs. Freida, I am Jewish.

-That is very brave of you.

-Very, uh, very secular, very --

-I consider us, first
and foremost, German.

-Excuse me, Missus?
Excuse me, Miss.

Mr. Schildkraut asking me
to-to-to asking you

what for you may I get?

-Fraulein Elsa,
isn't he just adorable?!

What is your name, kind sir?

-Lemml my name is.

I-I happiness,
have serve you --

-How long have you been
in Berlin, Herr Lemml?

-Uh, this is the first week
I come Berlin.

This is the first week
I come Germany!

-Herr Lemml, please speak
Yiddish, if you like.

I must learn to sound like one
of the hordes overrunning --

Well, like a native,
if you will.

-Thank you, Missus!

I cannot believe
I get this opportunity --

a job in the theater!

Assistant to the stage manager!

I could never imagine such
a thing in Balut.

And this play --
this play!

I was working as a tailor
in a little shop when one night

my cousin said I could come with
him to Mr. Peretz' house!

I got to hear the play by
the genius Sholem Asch!

-A genius?
A Yiddish genius?

A Polack genius!

-They got genius outside of
Germany, too.

This play will be done
all over the world.

-Lemml! Where are you?

-I here am, Mr. Schildkraut!

-Call the company to the stage!

-To the stage,
please come!

-Good morning, good morning!

Today we gather
in this august building

where we last rehearsed
"The Merchant of Venice,"

to peddle a different
pound of flesh!

As you know,
a few short months ago,

I was stalked by
a young gentleman --

as I was sipping my mélange
at the café Kranzler,

a Polish countryman approached
me with such fresh energy

and sincerity --
traits that have almost perished

in our cosmopolitan Berlin!

That very night
I went home with his script

and I woke up with a fever to
produce "The God of Vengeance."

To play this outcast,

rejected by pious Jews,
roaring at his maker!

Ladies, gentlemen,
I give you our playwright

of this brilliant little play,
Mr. Sholem Asch.

-Thank you, thank you.

Um, I don't want to terrify you,

but this is my first play.

I -- This past fall I sat down
at my desk in Warsaw

and I asked myself,

how do we as artists
question our sins

in front of
a greater audience?

How do we as Jews show ourselves

as flawed and complex
human beings?

Never did I dream that this
great artist

would choose to inhabit a man
on the edge of our society,

wrestling with his sins
and his God.

I've written only poetry
and short stories,

alone at my desk.

And I never realized that when
one writes a play,

one is no longer alone.

-Oy!

-Let's begin!

-Daughter, just tell me!
Are you still a virgin?

Let me see right into your eyes!

Right into your eyes!

-I...don't know.

-What do you mean
you don't know!

Are you still --
-Oh, but it's all right

for you to do?

I know who you are
and what you do!

-I'll tell you what you know.

You know
what this Torah cost?

It cost all of
the whores downstairs

on their backs and their knees
for a year!

And for what?
Look at me.

God wants me to fail as
a father?

-No! No!
-As a husband?

Well, there's one thing
I know how to do --

make money.

You are both paying me back --

on your backs,
on your knees.

Down into the whorehouse
with you!

-Help, he's going crazy!

-Down into the whorehouse
with you!

And take the Holy Scroll
with you!

I don't need it anymore!

-Help!

He's going crazy!

-And take the Holy Scroll
with you!

I don't need it anymore!

-Help!

He's going crazy!

-And take the Holy Scroll
with you!

I don't need it anymore!

-He-e-elp!

He's going crazy!

-And take the Holy Scroll
with you!

I don't need it anymore!

-Lemml!
Lemml! Over here!

Lemml!
-Ah! Mr. Asch!

-I can't wait to stand beside
you next week

when you raise the curtain on
"The God of Vengeance"

at the Bowery Theatre.

It hasn't been the same.

The troupe can't wait
to meet you!

-Mr. Asch, how did you do
such a thing?

Back there: the weeping,
the pleading --

they are sending so many people
back, but I got in!

-There were a few strings that
we could pull...

-Of course!

Because you are Sholem Asch!

Nobody in Balut believed you
sent for me

when I came to say goodbye!

-You were my first advocate.
-My life!

It is changed!

-I want to see your face when
you see it.

"Welcome to America"!

-America!

I here am!

Keyn Amerike tzu kumen,
hob ikh keyn mi geshport

Kh'hob gedenkt a rov tzu vern
un farlosn zikh a bord

Kh'hob gehat tzvey sheyne
peyes, vi yeder frumer yid

Tzum sof onshtot a bord hob
ikh di peyes oykhet nit

Vet ir mir fregn: S'taytsh?
Vi ken dos zayn?

Der terets derfun iz,
libe fraynt mayn'

Vot ken you makh?
Es iz Amerike?!

Do in land do pitzt
men zikh azoy

Vot ken you makh?
Es iz Amerike?!

Afile der yid hot dem ponim
fin a goy

Az fun peyes do zet men bay
keynem nisht keyn shpor

Do trogn zikh di peyelech

Ale meydlekh gor

Vot ken you makh?
Es iz Amerike

S'iz Amerike,
un vot ken you makh?

What can you
makh dis is America!

Iz America un vot
ken you makh?

-Gvald!
Er iz meshige gevorn!

-Dos seyfer-toyre
nemt aykh mit,

ikh darf es shoyn nisht mer!

-English!
Speak English!

Every time
we are alone together,

you persist in speaking Yiddish!

My God, Reina, we are supposed
to open this show in English

next week!
-I don't need your permission

to speak in Yiddish
when we are in private!

-Reina! We are the first
generation to get the chance

our parents never got.

To tell our stories
on American stages.

We are moving uptown
to the Village

and I want you to come with me!

Please just speak English
with me, Reina!

-Ruth.
You can call me Reina at home.

Hey, sit here
beside me.

Let's just run the lines.

-No, right, from Sarah's lines:
"Brush your hair, get dressed.

The minyan's on its way."

-I'll call Manke to come up
brushmein hor.

I love it when
she brushesmein hor.

Mein hor --
-"Hair"!

-Mein ha-a-i-ir-r...

gets so smooth.

-Mr. Schildkraut
won't replace me.

-We've got a week to learn this
English translation.

-And, what, from now on,
only English between us?

-Yeah.
-Dine?

I don't know who this
Dorothee is.

-Dorothee.

It's my name now.

It's the same woman you love
as Dine.

-Ladies?
Will you pardon my intrusion?

I would like to speak with
Miss Ruth.

-I'll go.
-She stay.

-Oy yoy yoy.

A long day.

Miss Ruth, it's no good.

I talk the way I talk.

Miss Dorothee talks better.
But when people hear Rifkele

they got to hear
a pure girl onstage.

No shtetl,
no girl off the boat.

They got to see their own
American daughter.

We have to let you go.

You will be a beauty
for our people

on the Yiddish stage
for decades to come.

Zay Moykhl.
-In English.

You tell me leave
in English.

-I am sorry.
-No, no, Mr. Schildkraut?

Ruth and I can rehearse all
night until --

-You and Lemml already
run lines with me.

And nothing help. Unless you
want to quit with me, Dine, no?

I thought not.

Go please, Mr. Schildkraut.

-Reina --
-Gay Avek. Jetz.

Lemml,blayb.

-I'll see you at home.

-I'm so sorry, Miss Reina.

-When did you know?
-Two days ago.

I was told to say nothing.
-My role --

-They have already recast
Rifkele.

-This will be the only role
in my lifetime

where I could tell someone
I love that I love her onstage.

-I will come see you on the
Yiddish stage and throw flowers.

-It may be quite some time
before I get a job again.

So throw food.

Thank you, Lemml.

-Mr. Schildkraut says I gotta
have an American name

for the Greenwich Village too.

It's Lou.

Lou.

-Goodbye, Lou.

-"A bridegroom?
Who is he, Mama?"

-A bridegroom?
Who is he, Mama?

-"A darling boy, a treasure from
a wonderful family.

And handsome like a rabbi!"

Okay, this is where
you say your line.

-Do I say it from here?
-Rudolph!

Zog der shikse
vu ahin tsu geyn!

-She's just asking where the
beautiful young lady should go.

Morris Carnovsky...I play
Shloyme, one of the pimps.

-Miss McFadden.
Now you go to Dorothee.

As if you was going to hug your
fiancé before you was married.

-Yes, Miss McFadden!
Perfect!

Now, you say...

-Where are we going to live,
Mama?

-Is it break time, yet?

Ich volt azihk farkovfn
far a papiros.

-She's saying she'd sell herself
for a cigarette.

-Morris Carnovsky?!
You are not in this scene!

-I'm helping to translate...
-Sha!

Where was we?
-She's hugging me

like her fiancé.
-Sha! Sha!

Miss McFadden,
now you are gonna kiss Dorothee

the way you will get to kiss
your husband

on your wedding night.
-Lucky man!

-Are you all right with this?

-Yes, yes.

-Wunderbar!
-Nice work, nice work!

-Oy!

-So, you want to just lay
yourself against her.

It is now the morning after,

and you are two happy cats
wholecken the kreme.

-Excuse me, Mr. Schildkraut,
could you tell me in English?

-I am speaking
in the English!

-Just place my hands wherever
you feel comfortable.

-Can you move your hands up to
herbristen more Dorothee?

-I am not a happy cat!
-I don't got nothin' like that

in my pages,
Mr. Schildkraut.

-Sut Katsen
-Ten minutes, ladies, gentlemen.

-Thank you, Lemml.
-Thank you, Lemml.

-Just call me Lou.

And may I say, Miss McFadden,

I have been wit' this show from
the first show,

I seen all the shows
of this show,

you are gonna be magnificent!

Ten minutes!

-I know it must be hard to
step in like this,

but you are doing a great job.

-I don't mean to
terrify you, but...

this is my first show.

-Wow!

That is brave.

I mean, this show!

-I'm hoping it shocks
my parents.

When can I meet the playwright?

-Sholem Asch has practically
become a recluse

on Staten Island!

He works very hard
on his novels.

I love his work.

He shows women as
flesh and blood!

How hard it is -- it was...

Mr. Schildkraut compares
the rain scene in Act II

to the balcony scene in
"Romeo and Juliet."

And for me, the scene in
the rain is...

It's just...

I'm having a hard time with my
English today.

-It's "lesbian," right?

-What?

-Did I misread the play?

I-I thought we were lesbians.

-I -- I --
-Did I say something wrong?

-I like to think
all the layers of love --

mother, sister, daughter --

-Should we practice kissing?

-What?

-I mean, before we have to do it
in front of everyone,

should we just try it
by ourselves?

-I think you did a good job of
it before the break.

-I just thought.
Sorry.

You certainly do not need
any practice, I must say.

-Uh, uh, why don't we first just
try it on the cheek

in rehearsal, and then, after
that, we can, we can --

-Yes. Perhaps we should save
the lips for opening night.

-Do you have any training?

In acting, I mean?

-My parents would never have
let me.

And at Smith there was
no theater, really.

-Oh, Smith!
As in College?

-Yes. I've been around lots of
girls, so that should help

in this play.

-And, uh, what would shock
your parents the most --

that you are playing in
a Jewish company?

That you are playing
a Jewish girl?

Or that you are playing a girl
in love with a prostitute?

-I hope all of it!

-It's a wonderful job you are
doing, Miss Virginia.

-I can't stop my body
from shaking.

-It's your first time on stage.

The fright --
-Every time I see Dorothee,

I feel her so much on stage

I get scared I'll go up
on my lines.

-You have to feel
what Rifkele feels.

Yes?
This is what happens to actors.

It's a good thing.
-It's hard to breathe.

-I know nothing about
the Christian church.

You was brought up in
the Church?

-Yes.

-Maybe how your Rifkele feels
for Manke

is a sin in your church.

In this play,
how you feel for her,

she for you, to me...

After the Messiah comes.

No hate.

No beating.

No sin.

-Rifkele!
Rifkele, I need your help.

-Shh.
Breathe deep.

-Papa and the rebbi will be here
soon with the Torah Scroll.

-Just look at Miss Dorothee
while you shake.

Your cue, it is coming...
-Rifkele, please.

They will be here any minute
-Now, now!

Geht, geht!

-I'll call Manke to come up
and brush my hair.

I love it when she brushes
my hair.

My hair gets so smooth.
Manke!

Manke!
-Oh, Rifkele!

Don't!
Papa's gonna break our necks!

-I told you to stop seeing
that girl!

You two got nothing
in common!

Now, the guests will be here
any moment.

We're arranging a bridegroom
for you.

-A bridegroom?

Who is he, Mama?

-A wonderful boy
from a wonderful family.

Handsome like a rabbi

-Where will we live, Mama?

-In your bedroom.

Right under your papa's roof.

There, beneath the holy scroll
your papa bought,

you will do your wifely duty.

-Will he love me, Mama?

-Very much,
my dearest daughter.

Every night.

-Beautiful.
Beautiful.

-I don't ever want to
stop acting.

Ever.

-Ladies, gentleman,
I give you our producer

at the Greenwich Theatre,
Mr. Harry Weinberger!

-Of all the places in New York
I have called home!

The courtroom, the picket line,
the labor unions --

the best home for me has been
standing in the back of

the orchestra at
the Provincetown Players.

Oh, I got in on the ground floor
as producer of a little play

by a wild Irishman,
name of Eugene O'Neill --

"The Hairy Ape."

So I have recently found
a new home on Broadway.

And it got me thinking: what if
a play came my way

written by a fellow Jew
that told our stories?

So I'm here to announce,
two weeks from today,

"The God Of Vengeance,"
starring Rudolph Schildkraut,

opens at The Apollo Theatre
on Broadway!

-This is garbage!
They've cut the rain scene.

-Did I not say to you to keep
the new scripts to yourself?

-Miss Nelson, I was about to ask
you for a coffee after --

-Did Mr. Asch
censor his own play?

-Every day downtown
we are sold out.

Every day another stack of
hate mail arrives.

And I read every single letter
that comes in --

"Jews, Polacks, take your filth
back to your own country.

Dirty Kikes,
you pollute our stage."

That's what we're up against.

-Did the playwright agree to cut

the most beautiful love scene
he will ever write?

-We told him and he signed
the contract

with the same hand
that cashed the check.

-For now, we have to strengthen
the moral argument

for audiences on Broadway.

-Dorothee, they cut
our rain scene?

-My Manke is no longer
a woman in love.

She is an evil procuress

lusting after a little girl
to peddle her ass.

Now, instead of us
falling in love

in this obscenity of a world,

instead of me
trying to rescue you,

the new script has me
entrapping you

into a life of white slavery!

I've been promoted to
head pimp!

-Miss Nelson, I don't want to
hurt your feelings,

but this production cannot be
seen to celebrate

two women in love!

After we open we can restore --
-Miss Dorothee!

I could make my Broadway debut
in many, many shows.

Shakespeare, Chekhov,
George Bernard Shaw.

I chose a new play
by a living Yiddish writer.

-We arepotchkying
wit' a masterpiece.

God forbid goyim think that
ladies who work the streets

are human beings!

God forbid goyim think that
Jewish ladies love each other

as human beings!

A shanda fur die goyim!

We could let the original script
speak for us.

-Look, here's what's
going to happen.

Mr. and Mrs. Smith get on
the train from Connecticut.

They bring junior and the
daughter to the matinee.

And what Mr. Weinberger don't
want to see

is a red-faced Mr. Smith

pulling his goyishe son out of
his orchestra seats

and marching the Smith family
up the aisles

because junior was getting
a little excited,

and they're gonna spend
the train ride home

explaining to their daughter why
these two girls were kissing!

Let's just say
thefarshtinkeneh word --

among the intelligentsia,

lesbians sell tickets.

Uptown, for Mr. and Mrs. Smith,

prostitutes in a brothel

is all the excitement
they can take.

-Mr. Weinberger,

did you know, every night
during the rain scene,

the entire troupe line up in
the wings and watch.

-I watch from Stage left.
-Stage right in the wings.

-In Berlin.
In Moscow.

In the Greenwich Village.

Every night,
the entire troupe.

-I have sacrificed a lot to play
this one flesh and blood woman.

-If anyone here can't
accommodate the changes

to the script,

now would be a good time
to let us know.

Every morning, every evening
ain't we have fun?

Not much money, oh, but honey
ain't we have fun?

There's nothing surer

The rich get rich
and the poor get laid off

In the meantime,
in between time --

-He has not slept
for weeks.

Every evening he leaves our bed.

Every morning I find him awake
in his study.

-Was there anything about
the last few months

that was abnormal in your
routine, Mr. Asch?

-Tell her about Vilna.
Tell her about Kiev.

-I have just returned from
a trip to Europe.

-He was the head of a delegation

for the American Jewish
Joint Committee.

A fact finding trip to Europe.

-Ah! The Old Country.

-He was investigating pogroms.

Vilna, Kiev.

-Oh.
-The old country.

-He will not talk to me
about what he saw.

Um, he has not been himself
since his return.

-How would he describe
not being himself?

-She wants to know
how you feel.

-I am unable to sleep,
lack of concentration,

lack of appetite,
lack of enjoyment.

-A great deal of lack.

He does not leave the house.

He is about to make
his Broadway debut,

and he has not gone to
a single rehearsal!

Every day
the stage manager calls,

"where is your husband,
Mrs. Asch?"

-Here's a prescription
for Seconal.

You are exhibiting
nervous exhaustion.

-What can we do?
-Complete bed rest

is often quite successful
with women and writers.

For men, however,

going west is better suited to
the restoration of

masculine energy
and vitality.

Cattle roping,
treks in the Rockies,

and buffalo hunting...

If there are any buffalo
to be found.

-She gives you a choice of

either being strapped to your
bed or buffalo hunting.

-You ask her if there's anything
in her charts

that can map the disintegration
of the Jewish psyche

due to centuries
of persecution?!

-Is he often this angry?

Does he exhibit
feelings of paranoia?

Of course, a brief period of
seclusion in upstate New York

might be just the thing.

It is so beautiful
in the spring!

Would you both please wait a
moment while I consult with

my nurse?
-She wants to commit you.

Come home with me.
You can rest at home.

I'll go with you
to a rehearsal.

It will cheer up
the troupe to see you!

And then we can go to
the Apollo Theatre

for our opening night.

-My God.
-Those were not minor changes.

Oh, Sholem.
-I feel sick to my stomach.

My God.

-Why are there so many police
in the house?

-It's nothing.

-I've never attended a Broadway
Opening before.

Are you saying this is what
they do uptown?

-You know we've had threats.

-There were threats downtown.
We never had police downtown.

-Nobody paid attention because
we were downtown.

-Are they going to stop
the show?

Because of the lesbianism?
Because of the Torah?

Because of the prostitution?
-Because I'm Jewish.

Because we're Polack Kikes
on Broadway!

I've gotta go backstage.

Gotta go find Harry.

Try to look like
you're enjoying it.

-Well, these things happen.

Manke is opening
a whorehouse of her own --

with our daughter!

We bought her a Torah
to keep her pure.

We can buy her back.

Oh, the diamond earrings
Yekel gave me,

these'll do the trick.

I will be back
with our daughter

if I have to drag her by
the hair through the streets.

And if we pull this off,

and we buy her a husband,

what then?

A boy who is scared
to look at her,

who prays for his sins
if he happens to see her flesh

and, God forbid,
becomes stiff...

But then she meets
an older girl.

A girl who is
rough around the edges.

Who promises her
soft things.

And Manke knows
how to brush on the rouge,

how to stand in the light,

how to touch Rifkele's hair
so lightly,

like a feather,

like silk...

-These things happen.

Well, no squelching once
the Katubah is signed.

And what are we selling
to the buyer?

Huh? Tissue.

A thin strip of flesh,

a spot of blood, a pinch,

and it's over.

Our daughter.

A deal's a deal.

-Sir?
-I'm Officer Bailey

with the 4th precinct.
Vice Squad.

And you are?

-I-I-I am the stage manager of
the play.

We got a cue coming up here,
officer.

-They told me to wait until
the end of the play.

Who's this?
-That is the playwright,

Sholem Asch.
He wrote the play.

-Boy, Mr. Asch, I'd like to
spend a night in your mind.

Will you ask the company to meet
me here when the play is over?

-I will do whatever the law asks
me to do, officer.

But I-I-I got a cue coming.

-Are we arrest?
-We got a cue coming.

-We don't have a warrant for
you, Mr. Asch.

Just the actors.

-Go, go!

-Come in. Come in.
Your father won't beat you.

-Don't be afraid,
I won't beat you.

Don't be afraid.
-Why should I be afraid?

-Rifkele! You ran away with
Manke last night.

Don't tell me
where she took you.

Daughter, just tell me:
Are you still a virgin?

Let me see right into your eyes!

Right into your eyes!

-I don't know.

-What do you mean
you don't know!

Are you still --
-Oh, but it's all right

for you to do?

I know who you are
and what you do!

-No!
-I'll tell you what you know.

You know what this Torah cost?!

It cost all of
the whores downstairs

on their backs and their knees
for a year!

And for what?
Look at me.

God wants me to fail as
a father?!

-No!
-As a husband?!

Well, there's one thing I know
how to do --

make money.

You are both paying me back!
On your backs, on your knees.

Down into the whorehouse
with you!

-Help!
He's going crazy!

-And take the Holy Scroll
with you!

I don't need it anymore!

-Every time I pick up the paper
and I read about

a robber who assaults
an 80-year-old grandmother,

a mother who was at a bar
when a fire broke out

and consumed all of
her children at home,

men who were caught together in
the park in the light of day --

I lift my face to the heavens
and I pray, please, oh Lord,

please do not
let them be Jewish!

This is what it means to be
Jewish in America.

Each day we struggle to uplift
the wretched refuse

who huddle ten to a room on
the Lower East Side,

aware of our American duty
and privilege

as Jews who have long called
these shores our home.

We advocate day and night that
the restriction

on the so called Pollack,
Litvak, Greenhorn --

that these quotas be lifted

so that those unfortunates of
our faith can escape

the massacres spreading
through Europe.

But none of us can live in
a constant vigilance.

So perhaps we go to the theatre
for a little relief,

to be in a community
that laughs together --

and what is in the theatre?!

What title glares its name in
neon lights on Broadway?

"The God Of Vengeance"!

by Sholem Asch!

I expect scurrilous lies to my
face from the crackpots

who call themselves Christian,

but to be hit by a stone in my
back by a fellow Jew!

I am not unaware that there is
a Jewish underground

in our cities --
yes, there are girls who,

in fleeing Vilna, Kiev, Galicia,

without father or family,
ply their flesh

to buy their daily bread.

Are there misguided girls
among them

who turn to each other
in confusion?

Of course.

Yes, there are men
who buy their bread

on the sweat of
these women's backs,

rather than the honorable sweat
of their own.

Of these parasites,
I say,

send them back!

I know you have heard me
denounce this play before.

I acted on my words.

I registered the complaint.

And I am happy to tell you that
as of last night,

the play has been closed down by
the Vice Squad,

and all cast members have been
arrested for obscenity.

Please join with me in prayer
for a righteous verdict.

It is now in the hands of
an American jury.

We ask that they defend
our good name.

-Esther! Esther!

-Hello, my girl.

Oh, Reina, we've missed you.

-I've been so worried...

I asked that young Cossack
to take me too,

but he didn't want nothing
of me.

-Are they keeping Dine?

-Harry was paying her bail
when I left.

She'll be right behind me.

-Miss McFadden's father sent
a fancy shmancy lawyer,

she's on her way back to
North Carolina.

-When the going gets tough,
the goyim get goin'.

Last night the Vice Squad
rounded up girls from

the cathouses
who hadn't paid up,

so around 3:00, 4:00
in the morning

all these girls
was pouring in.

When I told the ladies I was
a thespian...

There was a lot of jokes
the rest of the night.

Ah, sticks and bones, huh?

They was all American girls.

Some of their words weren't
so dainty,

but their English was perfect.

Lou, in my head,

I can hear those English words
so good...

But then when I open my mouth,
it's like...

the dust of Poland
is in my throat.

-I didn't think you'd come.

-God, I couldn't sleep when
Lou called me.

Did you get any sleep?

-I haven't slept in weeks.
Not since I left your bed.

-Come home with me. I said some
things I should not have said.

-You said the truth.

I would not be ashamed to be
arrested for acting in the play

I believed in.

I am ashamed for acting in this
sham I don't believe in.

-You wanted to be on Broadway.
Why are you --?

-Bedbugs.

You still want me in your bed?

-Ugh!

We are going go home.

We will stand together on
the -- the --

Schvel.
-Threshold.

-The threshold of our home.

First, you take off clothes.

All.

And then I take off.

All.

So then I, uh, I wash them.

The clothes.
-Oh.

-Then for you I make
a hot bath,

and we both get in the -- the --
vane?

-Bath tub.
-In our kitchen.

You lean against me and I wash
your...hair...

And then we will see
what will happen.

-Reina?

Fin itzt un bay unz in shtib,
nor Mame-lushn.

-Sorry if some of the fellas
were a bit rough on you.

They tagged you for
a prohibition agent

hell-bent on breaking
our bottles.

-I'm a stage manager.

"The God of Vengeance."

-You could use a drink then.

The finest spirit you can find
south of Canada.

It does the trick.

Drink up.

So, what can I do for you --
-Lou.

I just want to say, Mr. O'Neill,
what an honor it is,

and congratulations on
the Pulitzer for your play,

"Anna Christie."

And-and-and thank you

for being willing to testify
for our production --

-Oh, hell, I wish I could have.

It's a corker of a play.

-Well, what happened in
the courtroom just now?

You left before --
-The court dismissed

all the defense witnesses, we're
all barred from testifying.

You all are up the creek
without a paddle.

-Why?
-So your Mr. Asch

and your play itself aren't
on trial for obscenity --

the production is.

-Yes, sir. But why --
-So I couldn't testify

to the wholesome and morally
fortifying nature

of this production,
because I saw it downtown

at the Provincetown Players.

They say the script may have
been tampered with

on it way uptown.
-Oh.

-Was the script changed from
when I saw it?

-It was.
-Damn Harry!

Look he's a smart lawyer --
he's my lawyer.

But he doesn't know his rising
action from his purgation.

You only got one chance now,
as I see it --

you got to get your Mr. Asch
on that defense stand

in behalf of his play.

He has got to explain a few
basic things --

that when we sell our souls
for money,

it is a long and lonely life
without love.

Your Mr. Asch is
a fierce moralist.

They're gonna claim they're
closing it because of

homo sexualis.

That's bunk.

They're closing it because the
play shows that every religion,

even Jews,

sell God for a price.

Give my admiration to Mr. Asch.

He has crafted a play that
shrouds us in a deep, deep fog

of human depravity,

and then, like a lighthouse,

those two girls.

That is a beacon
I will remember.

Tell him to keep his head down,

don't take any shots
to his kidneys,

then up, up, left jab,
right hook combination!

-Yes, sir.
-Better luck on his next play.

-Mr. Asch doesn't write plays
anymore, only novels.

-Smart man.

The stage --
I wish I could quit it!

"That ol' devil sea,

she make them crazy fools with
her dirty tricks!

It's so!"

-Husband, that was Lemml
on the phone.

-I am trying to write!

It's like a damn circus down
here with you and the children.

-The children and I tiptoe
around here

like it's a damn museum.

You have got to
call him back.

This is Lemml.
He worships you.

You just can't discard people.

The court has thrown out
all the defense witnesses.

I have laid out your clothes.
You need to change.

We have to catch the ferry in
a half hour.

-This is a nightmare.
-Harry will translate

what you say if he has to.
-Like he translated my play?

-You just need to make
an appearance in the courtroom.

-There are massacres happening
all across Europe!

And I'm supposed to care about
what I wrote

when I was in short pants?

-It's still
a very important play.

-Madje. Madje, I can't.

I can't.
I just can't.

-I wish you'd never gone
to Vilna.

I wish you would tell me
what you saw.

-I don't want you to know.
You're my wife.

Everything is reversed now
like a photographic negative.

Our home, our garden,
the theatre, the...

the streets of America
feel very far away.

What is real to me,
vivid to me --

I can't get the images
out of my head.

It's hard for me to kiss
our children at night.

And when as head of our
delegation I reported

all the atrocities I saw,

what was the response from
our State Department?

"These things happen."

-I think you should tell
your friends

that you're struggling
with this.

Tell Lemml.
He's wondering where you are.

-No, I have to put myself
together.

I don't want people to know I am
sitting in my house, weeping.

Will you call Lemml?
-Of course.

-I'll write a letter
to the court.

-Yes.
Your words are powerful.

-I have to write something to
change the way gentiles see us,

to make them see that we are one
people with one common root,

or they will rip us out,
root by root, from the Earth

until we are no more.

It's coming.

It's coming here.

-No.
No, it won't happen here.

We're safe here.

-The defendants have been found
guilty of presenting

an indecent, obscene,
and immoral play,

exhibition and drama.

Although the theatrical
profession is not as exalted

as the other literary arts...

This judgment still signals that
the People of New York State

are entitled to morally upright,
wholesome American drama.

The time has come when the drama
must be purified

of eastern exoticism,

its sexual pollution

and its corruptive attitude
towards the family.

Court dismissed.

-Oh!

-Sorry, Mrs. Madje.

We don't want to disturb
your husband.

-Oh, my God! Lemml!

I didn't expect --
Are You all right?

-I been better.

The world spins on.

-How long have you been here?

-I wanted to see what
the sunrise was like

from Staten Island.

-Come in, Lemml.
I am putting on the coffee.

-No. Thank you, I do not want to
step over yourshvel.

-Lemml. Please.
-I might be adybbuk.

A dead soul
inside a stage manager.

-Lemml!
My good man!

Please come in.

-I don't think I am your good
man anymore, Mr. Asch.

-Well, then, may I join you?

- Please yourself.

The time to join me was
yesterday.

Or the day before.
That was the time to join me.

-I owe you an apology.
-You owe me nothing.

The letter you wrote
the court

was very beautiful.

You got powerful words,
Mr. Asch.

-I know you still think of me
as the young firebrand

you saw the night we met.

Every day since the first day we
read it out loud,

I have been under attack.

Mr. Peretz was right,
the play is a stone.

-I didn't expect you to
defend the play.

I expected you to defend us.

Do you know, Mr. Asch, the play
has ended Mr. Schildkraut's

chances at the great roles
in theatre?

He will never get the chance on
an American stage again.

-He is a giant on
the stages of Europe.

-If he stays in this country,

the best he can hope for on
American stages

is to play the Stage Jew.

-At least he'll make a living.

None of you will be out of
work in --

-How dare you!
We are not doing your play

for the money!

I could make as much with
my sewing!

Why did you agree to
those cuts?

You cut the love between
those two girls.

There's only sex left!
-I told Harry and Rudolph

to do what they want.
It is my play!

-And mine.
It's my play too.

-Excuse me, Missus, the play
belongs to the people

who labor in it!

And the audience who set aside
the time to be there in person!

-The truth is,
I never checked the cuts.

I can barely read English.

I can barely speak!

A writer of world literature --

I couldn't walk into that court
in front of all those

American reporters -- they would
have laughed at me!

Can you imagine if I opened
my mouth to speak?

I would sound just like you.

-I am done

being in a country

that laughs at
the way I speak.

They say America is free?

What do you know here
is free?!

All over Europe
we did this play,

no Cossacks
shutting us down.

Berlin, Moscow, Odessa,
everywhere there is theatre!

You don't have the money
for a ticket?

Tickets over there cost less
than a cup of tea.

Then you dress up nice
in your best coat,

maybe you stand in
the second gallery,

but you can say to your
grandchildren,

"I saw the great
Rudolph Schildkraut

in Sholem Asch's
'The God of Vengeance'!"

I am leaving this country.

-No, no, wait --
-Lemml, the places you still

care for have changed...
-No!

You have washed your hands clean
of this...

tailor from Balut!

Who doesn't stand up for
the name on his title page?

I am taking the manuscript
in Yiddish with me.

Mr. Asch!

Your play,
it changed my life!

-Lemml, wait, wait --
-No, no, no, I am going home!

-Listen!

-Da.

Of all the boys I've known
and I've known some

Until I first met you
I was lonesome

And when you came in sight,
dear, my heart grew light

And this old world
seemed new to me

You're really swell
I have to admit, you

Deserve expressions
that really fit you

So I've racked my brain,
hoping to explain

All the things that
you do to me

Bei mir bist du schon

Please let me explain

Bei mir bist du schon,
means that you're grand

Bei mir bist du schon

Again I'll explain

It means you're
the fairest in the land

I could say "Bella, Bella"

-I would like to speak to
the French Ambassador.

"Pardonez-moi: Je voudrais
parler a l'ambassadeur."

"Pardonez-moi: Je voudrais
parler a l'ambassadeur."

How grand you are!

Kh'vel dir zogn,
dir glaykh tzu hern

Az du zolst
mir libe derklern

Ven du redst mit di oygn

Volt ikh mit dir gefloygn

Vi di vilst,
s'art mikh nit

-Excuse me,
do you speak Yiddish?

Hebrew? Polish?
Un peu?

I would like to talk to
the ambassador.

I'm sure he's busy. He will want
to make time for me.

I am a Yiddish writer well known
throughout Europe.

I come from Warsaw.

Yes,Varsovie.

What?
Do I know Sholem Asch.

Of course!

I gave him notes in the salon

during the first reading of
"The God of" --

Would you please ask if I
might talk to the --

Bay mir bistu sheyn

Bay mir
hos tu kheyn

Bay mir bistu eyner
oyf der velt

Bay mir bistu eyner
oyf der velt

-Dear Madje, dear Sholem,

We opened "The God of Vengeance"
last night

to thunderous applause!

-Thank you so much for the
opening night care package!

-Thank you so much for the new
book, I love your novels!

-Pardonez-moi: Je voudrais
parler a l'ambassadeur!

-The authorities are cramming in
Jews from Germany

into every spare inch of space.

-Peut-etre avez-vous entendu
parler de moi!

Sholem Asch has said that I was
an inspiration for --

-Dear Sholem, You must tell your
wife, my dearest friend

in all the world,
that I feel rich!

I have a warm coat
and a little food.

-Mais oui! Sholem Asch!

-The authorities have walled us
into the old Balut district

to the North --
-I can still see the city park

across the street!
-Sholem Aschest un ami proche!

-We are still performing
"The God of Vengeance:

in all kinds of spaces.
-Basements.

-Cafes.
-The old children's hospital.

-The authorities forbid us to
perform plays!

-Goodbye Shakespeare!
-Chekhov!

-George Bernard Shaw!
-Songs, dances, skits

only six nights as week!

Nakhmen is learning French.

-"Il n'y a plus de visas?!"

-Oh, Mrs. Asch, most of all I
want to lie in the grass again!

-Smell the grass!
-Nakhmen is learning Spanish!

-Espanoles damas son la mas
bella -- por favor!

La embajada esta cerrada?

-Nakhmen is learning Chinese!

-Qing! Qing!
Buyào guan dmén!

I have been waiting for three
days in a very long line.

Please!

Please! Do not close the gates
before I --

-My dear Asch,

it's been a long time since we
read your brilliant little play

in the living room.

A lot of Yiddish water has
flowed over the Polish dam.

It is hard for me to ask you:

the authorities have confiscated
our passports.

Is there any way you might put
in a word to the consulate

to make an exception for me?

-Lemml...

I hope I may still call myself
your friend.

My letters to you have all been
returned to sender.

If you get this, please respond?

-All right, all right, people!

This will make a stage!

-Lemml, can we use this?

-Uh, Mrs. Gitla won't mind.

Chana, this will be
the sitting room...

Halina, over here the stairs...

-And here's the curtain for
Miss Manke's place of business.

-Yes! Vera, Excellent.
-Let's hang the lamps!

Matches? Lemml?
-Mendel!

Don't waste a single one.

Avram, no, let me do that.
You get ready.

Otto?
Do we have an audience?

-A few souls...

-Let's hope they
brought some food.

-Or some money.

-All right, may I have your
attention please,

everyone draw near.

Five minutes to the top
of Act II. Come, come.

We are a...few players...we are
missing a few of the cast.

Chana, remember to keep your
shawl on over your hair

when you are playing one of
the working girls downstairs.

Mendel, Avram, you wear the
shawls when you play the girls.

-Yes, darling!

-Chana, Chana,
when you enter as Rifkele --

-Without the shawl.
-Yeah. Halina?

--Are you feeling strong enough?

-Then you play Manke tonight,
Manke only.

We are not wetting the shawls
in the rain scene.

Okay? I will read the stage
directions.

As it is, in your nightgown,

you can catch your death
of cold.

-I'm fine.

-All right, people.

-I could veyn!

-Esn! Everyone,

take, take...

-Shall I let them in?

Places for Act II.

-Ladies and gentlemen,
let's have a round of applause

for our band!

Making the clarinet wail,
we have Mr. Mayer Balsam!

On violin, our very own
Miss Nelly Friedman!

And on accordion, the dexterous
Mr. Moriz Godowsky!

Welcome to our show tonight.

As you know, six nights a week
we gather together to sing songs

we know and love, to dance.

To escape our daily lives.

But on the seventh night,
God created Yiddish theatre.

First, let me give our thanks
to Mrs. Gitla Bronowski

for letting us use this spacious
attic for our show.

Thank you, Mrs. Gitla!

Tonight we are going to perform
Act II

of the greatest play ever
written by one of

our countrymen,
Mr. Sholem Asch.

"The God of Vengeance."

As you all know, as a young man
I was privileged

to hear the first reading of
this masterpiece in Warsaw,

and it changed my life.

Last week we presented Act I.

God willing, next week we will
all still be here

to perform Act III.

Does anyone here need to know
what happens in the first act?

So you know last week Act I
happened upstairs

in Yekel's living room --
tonight takes place in

another location in Yekel's
house: the cellar.

Manke, the star of his stable,

is forming a friendship, yes?

With the daughter.

Okay, that's all we need
to know.

Uh...

Speaking of gelt...

should tonight's performance
move you,

we would appreciate any
contribution, a mark or two,

any food you may be able
to spare.

And if tonight's performance
does not please you,

please throw food!

Kugel!
Rugelach, anyone?

We have made slight cuts
to the script

so that we do not break
the curfew.

And in tonight's performance,
in the role of Manke,

played so brilliantly
the last few years

by our very own
Ada Borenstein,

Halina Cygansky
is stepping in tonight.

To set the scene:

it is late night in the ghetto.

It is raining.

Without further ado,
"The God of Vengeance," Act II.

-Ah! Rifkele!

Rifkele!
-Manke! Manke!

Did you call me?
-Yes, Rifkele.

Come, we'll stand in the
May rain,

we'll splash water
over each other

and get wet down to
our skin.

-Shh! Speak softly!

-I'll loosen your hair.

I want to wash your hair
in the rain.

-I heard you tapping and I
tiptoed so quietly

Papa couldn't hear me.

-The night is so beautiful,

and the rain is so fresh

and everything is so sweet
in this air.

-Shh, shh!

My father beat me.

-He won't hurt you anymore.

-Are you shivering, Rifkele?

-I'm cold!
-Here, let me wrap my body

around you.

-That's nice.

-Oh, you smell like...

grass...
in the meadows.

You let me wash your breasts
in the rain.

-I did.

-Your breasts are so pale.

So soft.

-Manke.

I want you to teach me.

-Wait, wait, wait, wait...

Let me brush your hair,
like a bride's hair,

in two long braids.

Do you want me to, Rifkele?

Do you want us to?

-Yes.

Yes.

-You are my bride.

You take my breath away!

We sit at the shabbes table

after your parents
have gone to sleep.

We're alone.

We're shy.

But you are my bride
and I am your bridegroom.

-Manke, I want you to take me.

-Are you sure?

-I want to taste you.

-Isn't it good, Rifkele?

Isn't it good?

-God, yes.

-Now we lie together
in one bed.

No one will see.

Would you like to stay all night
with me in one bed?

-I do.

I do.

-I can't breathe.

Come to me.

Come to me.

-I'm scared.

Vigala, vigala, vayer

Der vind shpilt
aufder layer

Ir shpilt tzu zis

Im grunen rid

Di nachtigal

Di zing ir lid

Vigala, vigala, vayer

Der vind shpilt
aufder layer

Vigala, vigala, verne

Der mond is
di lanterne

Ir shtit am dunklen
himeltzelt

Und shout hernider
auf di velt

Vigala, vigala, verne

Der mond is di lanterne

-Please don't let this be
the ending.

-Shh-shh!

And when we say

Yeow! A-yip-i-o-ee-ay

We're only sayin "You're doing
fine Oklahoma!"

O-K-L-A-H-O-M-A

Oklahoma

Yeow!

-Everything's all packed up.

When we get to London

we can tell them where to send
the furniture.

We'll have a nice visit
with our daughter.

We'll figure it out.

-We could just leave it.

Everything.

-I told that nice young man he
could stop by for a quick visit

before we left.
-Who?

-The one who is producing
your play.

-Now?!

-We are inviting him
over our shvel

while we still have one.

- That's him.

-Rome is burning and you want to
put on a play!

-Rome is always burning!

Last night you said you'd
consider it.

Sholem, please.

Give him just a moment
of your time.

-I am beside myself
with anticipation.

-Be nice.

-Thank you, Mrs. Asch, um,

I promise I won't keep
your husband long.

Mr. Asch. Uh...

Can I -- Can I just say what
a great honor this is for me?

-So you are a lover of
Yiddish literature, Mister...?

-John Rosen. John.
My grandparents speak Yiddish,

but my parents --
-Your parents wanted you

to grow up American.

This story I have heard.

Madje tells me that
you got into Yale!

It is easier for a camel

he should go through
the eye of a needle

than a Jew he should enter
the kingdom of Yale!

Madje has read your new
translation of the play.

I have not.

She tells me it is good.

-Well, I have brought you
the most recent copy.

I know I am young, but I am
starting a new theatre company

for the great
classic works of the stage

that ask urgent
moral questions!

-In Connecticut?

Well, good luck with that,
young man!

-"The God of Vengeance"
has the urgency of today!

-I want to bring it to
American audiences

just as you wrote it --
-Young man, I have to tell you,

I no longer care what is done
on the stages of this country.

Theatre companies are started by
young men who have the luxury

to care about where they live.

Or the false belief that they
will be allowed to live

in the place they care about.

A little invite from
the Congress.

The House of
the Un-American Activities.

In 1905 I was attracted
by Socialists.

We are all brothers!
Ale Brider!

-Mr. Asch,
you must fight this!

-Mr. John, have you ever lost
audience members?

Did you watch them
walk up the aisle

in the middle of your play?

-Yes! That's happened all
the time to me at Yale.

Townspeople fleeing
up the aisles!

-Ach.

I too have lost audience
members.

Six million...

have left the theatre.

I am sorry to waste your time.

I will not let this play
be produced.

No more.

I wrote it in a different time.

The time has changed on me.

You must excuse me --
the way out you know.

In the words of a much
wiser man, if I was you,

burn it!

-Mr. Asch, I may have to wait
many, many years,

but I am producing your play.

-Rifkele!

Rifkele!

-Di nakht iz azoy lib,

der regn iz azoy frish, un alts
shmekt azoy in der luft.

-Shvayg, shvayg.

Der tate hot mikh geshlogn.

Er hot di shtib tsugeshlosn,
un hot dem shlisl bahaltn.

-Er vet dikh keynmol
mer nisht vey tin.