[Marxism] Judith Malina, Founder of the Living Theater, Dies at 88

Louis Proyect lnp3 at panix.com
Sat Apr 11 08:33:06 MDT 2015


NY Times, Apr. 11 2015
Judith Malina, Founder of the Living Theater, Dies at 88
By BRUCE WEBER

Judith Malina, an actor and director who with her husband, Julian Beck, 
founded the Living Theater, a troupe of activists and provocateurs who 
advanced the idea of political theater in America, catalyzed fierce 
debate over their methods and intentions, and in the name of art ran 
afoul of civic authorities on three continents, died on Friday in 
Englewood, N.J. She was 88.

Her death, at the Lillian Booth Actors Home, was confirmed by a friend 
and playwright, Karen Malpede. Ms. Malina had lung disease caused by 
years of smoking.

For movie and television buffs, especially those not old enough to 
remember beatniks, Lenny Bruce, Vietnam War protests or other symbols of 
remonstration against Eisenhower-era complacency, Ms. Malina was best 
known as a character actress. She appeared on “The Sopranos” (as Aunt 
Dottie, a dying nun who reveals to the gangster known as Paulie Walnuts 
that she is actually his mother) and in films including “The Addams 
Family,” Woody Allen’s “Radio Days” and, perhaps most memorably, “Dog 
Day Afternoon,” as the anguished and frantic mother of Sonny Wortzik, 
the misguided bank robber played by Al Pacino.

But she steered a far more emphatic and influential course with the 
troupe sometimes known simply as the Living, which occupied the leading 
edge of stage experimentation in the 1950s and 1960s and both fed and 
fed on the counterculture of the 1960s and ’70s. It was perhaps the most 
prominent and persistent advocate for a “new theater,” one that sought 
to dissolve the accepted artifice of stage presentations, to conjoin art 
and political protest, and to shrink, if not eliminate, the divide 
between performers and the audience.

A diminutive woman (journalists often noted that she weighed less than 
100 pounds) who studied acting and directing with Erwin Piscator, the 
German director and theorist who, like Brecht, was a proponent of epic 
theater, Ms. Malina was tireless and passionate in advancing the idea 
that theater can be, and should be, a blunt force for cultural change. 
She and Mr. Beck, an Expressionist painter as a young man who became 
renowned as a set designer, considered themselves anarchists and 
pacifists, and their productions were statements as much as performances.

Idealistic and fervent, they began planning a new kind of theater 
company in 1947, when she was 21 and he a year older. The troupe’s first 
public production, Gertrude Stein’s “Dr. Faustus Lights the Lights,” was 
staged in 1951 at the Cherry Lane Theater in Greenwich Village.

Their belief that the theater and real life are part of an experiential 
continuum drew them, at first, to present plays written in verse or 
otherwise abstract language — they produced work by Kenneth Rexroth, T. 
S. Eliot, Paul Goodman, Jean Cocteau, W. H. Auden and William Carlos 
Williams, among others — and to involve their audiences in the action of 
their shows in defiance of the so-called fourth wall, the conventional 
presumption of separation of the actors from the audience.

“We believe in the theater as a place of intense experience, half-dream, 
half-ritual, in which the spectator approaches something of a vision of 
self-understanding, going past conscious to unconscious, to an 
understanding of the nature of all things,” Mr. Beck wrote in The New 
York Times in 1959. He added that “only the language of poetry can 
accomplish this, only poetry or a language laden with symbols and far 
removed from our daily speech can take us beyond the ignorant present 
toward these realms.”

The period of Mr. Beck and Ms. Malina’s greatest impact and notoriety 
began in the late 1950s with productions that included groundbreaking 
dramas like “The Connection” (1959), Jack Gelber’s harrowing depiction 
of a den of heroin addicts, and “The Brig” (1963), Kenneth H. Brown’s 
portrayal of a harsh day in the life of a Marine prison. (Both were made 
into films.) It was during the run of “The Brig” that the Living was 
shut down by the Internal Revenue Service — an event that led to 
demonstrations outside the company’s home at West 14th Street and Avenue 
of the Americas, with placards bearing slogans like “Art Before Taxes.”

Mr. Beck and Ms. Malina represented themselves at their trial, arguing 
that it was both wrong and unreasonable for the government to take away 
their theater without making a good-faith effort to help them save it, 
and that their nonviolent civil disobedience was a reaction against the 
unfair administration of the law. But they also turned the trial into a 
loopy spectacle that included rambling speechifying, outbursts of 
protest and Ms. Malina’s recitation of her poems.

“The human heart and the human mind have to examine the rigidity of the 
law,” Ms. Malina said in summing up the case to the jury, which 
convicted her, Mr. Beck and the Living Theater on several counts 
surrounding the crime of impeding federal agents from seizing the assets 
of the tax-delinquent theater.

“Innocent!” Ms. Malina exclaimed, each time the prosecutor, Peter K. 
Leisure, used the word “guilty.” Judge Edmund Palmieri reprimanded her.

“You can cut out my tongue, but you cannot stop me from saying that I am 
innocent,” she responded. “I will not grant you that privilege, sir.”

Mr. Malina and Mr. Beck were fined and given brief jail sentences, 
though pending an appeal they were allowed to leave for Europe, where 
the Living had bookings, and they and the company went into self-imposed 
exile.

As time went on, their shows, which included adaptations of “Antigone” 
and “Frankenstein,” were staged, usually by Ms. Malina, with mounting 
radical fervor and an application of techniques that tended to sublimate 
artistic craft in favor of political passion and to blur the distinction 
between performance and real life. Living Theater productions through 
the 1960s were increasingly characterized by improvisation, and troupe 
members addressed spectators directly, encouraging them to participate 
vocally as if contributing to a spontaneously evolving script and even 
exhorting them to join the troupe onstage or exit the theater and take 
the performance into the streets.

The company’s most notorious show, “Paradise Now,” consisted of a jumble 
of nonlinear vignettes, theater games, ritualistic exercises, group 
embraces and volleys of incantatory anticapitalist slogans and other 
epithets, some encouraging sexual abandon and marijuana use, often 
culminating with members of the company and the audience taking off 
their clothes. The vehemence of the revolutionary message and its 
delivery joined the Living irrevocably to the more perfervid nonviolent 
strain of the 1960s counterculture.

“I demand everything — total love, an end to all forms of violence and 
cruelty such as money, hunger, prisons, people doing work they hate,” 
Ms. Malina explained in a 1968 interview with The New York Times 
Magazine about the sort off revolution her theater wanted to engender. 
“We can have tractors and food and joy. I demand it now!”

Performances of “Paradise Now” often generated chaos in the theater and 
controversy outside it. In Europe, where the Living became a collective 
(operating as, in one reporter’s words, “a tribe or an anarchist’s 
commune”) and commanded a large and youthful following that newspapers 
routinely described as hippies, the police were called to shut down or 
prevent performances of “Paradise Now” and other Living shows in Rome, 
Avignon and elsewhere. In 1968 the Living returned to the United States, 
where, after a performance at Yale, several members of the company and 
the audience were arrested for indecent exposure.

The Living subsequently appeared at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, where 
their performances engendered, in addition to the usual raucous 
reception, a critical war waged in print, including in The New York 
Times, where critics including Walter Kerr and Eric Bentley dismissed 
the Living as jejune and antitheatrical, and Clive Barnes, who approved 
of the company’s invention and physicality, saw in it a melding of 
theater and dance.

The critic Richard Gilman wrote of the Living’s “Antigone” in The 
Atlantic: “The play is nearly intolerable whenever it has to be acted, 
whenever lines have to be spoken and consciousness invoked,” adding, “It 
is evident from the beginning that whatever else it has become, the 
Living Theater has lost almost all its never more than marginal 
abilities for the rudimentary processes of acting: speech, 
characterization, the assumption of new invented life.”

Writing in Saturday Review, however, Henry Hewes declared, “What they 
have done with Brecht’s 1947 version of Sophocles’ ‘Antigone’ is 
incredible and enormous.” He added: “This ‘Antigone’ makes theatrical 
history with its fierce totality of commitment. It is beyond theater.”

Ms. Malina was born in Kiel, a port city in northern Germany, on June 4, 
1926. Her mother, Rosel Zamojre, had been an aspiring actress before she 
married Max Malina, a rabbinical student who became a leading cleric 
after the family moved to New York City. There, according to John 
Tytell’s exhaustive book, “The Living Theatre: Art, Exile and Outrage” 
(1995), Ms. Malina met Mr. Beck in 1943, when she was just 17, and 
together they undertook a cultural education, attending the theater, 
visiting museums and reading modernist writers like Joyce, Pound and 
Cocteau. Ms. Malina worked as a singing waitress in a Greenwich Village 
bar and eventually enrolled in Piscator’s workshop at the New School for 
Social Research.

In the 1970s and early 1980s, the Living again spent much of its time 
out of the country, partly in Europe and partly in Brazil, where Ms. 
Malina and Mr. Beck were once again arrested, this time for marijuana 
possession, though they said they were innocent, and supporters of the 
company suspected that the authorities were wary of the work they were 
preparing, a series of short politically tinged plays to be performed in 
the streets of the town of Ouro Preto. After their arrest, protests from 
cultural figures around the world, including Susan Sontag and Jean-Paul 
Sartre, focused attention on their plight, and they were released but 
expelled from the country.

Julian Beck died in 1985. Ms. Malina’s survivors include their two 
children, Isha Manna and Garrick Maxwell Beck; three grandchildren; and 
two great-grandchildren.

In 1988, Ms. Malina married Hanon Reznikov, who wrote and performed in 
many Living productions and who had been running the company since Mr. 
Beck’s death. For a time they established a theatrical home on East 
Third Street in Lower Manhattan, until the city’s Buildings Department 
closed the theater in 1993.

The company continued to produce work motivated by contemporary 
political concerns, including the two Persian Gulf wars, the Wall Street 
bailouts and income inequality, presenting it on different New York City 
stages; they also created site-specific new works in Italy and Lebanon. 
Just before Mr. Reznikov’s unexpected death in 2008, the theater 
established another home in Lower Manhattan, on Clinton Street. There 
Ms. Malina directed Mr. Reznikov’s last play, “Eureka!,” based on a 
dense late work about the origins of life by Edgar Allan Poe, showing 
that the company had lost none of its ambition and energy.

“The Living Theater wants nothing less than to rewrite the theatrical 
contract,” Rachel Saltz began her review of “Eureka!” in The Times. 
“Viewers can no longer remain passive spectators hidden in the dark. 
There is no fourth wall, so they must become participants. In ‘Eureka!’ 
— a mix of science class, happening, utopian dream and group hug — that 
means helping out with a mighty task: creating the universe.”

The Living was evicted from its Clinton Street space in 2013 but staged 
Ms. Malina’s “Nowhere to Hide” at the Burning Man Festival in 2014. The 
troupe will continue to produce work under the leadership of Brad 
Burgess, Tom Walker and Garrick Beck, who will share directorial duties, 
with Mr. Burgess as artistic director, Mr. Beck said in an email.

Ms. Malina’s published books include a compilation of her diaries and in 
2012 a memoir of sorts called “The Piscator Notebook.” In his foreword 
to that volume, the theater scholar Richard Schechner wrote:

“The thing about Judith Malina is that she is indefatigable, 
unstoppable, erupting with ideas. Malina is long-living, long-working, 
optimistic, and by the second decade of the 21st century girlish and old 
womanish at the same time. She survives and she bubbles, both.”



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