Transposing Broadway Quotes

“Similarly, in Funny Girl, Nicky Arnstein’s polished exterior belied his shaky moral underpinnings; there is nothing truly substantial beneath this gambler’s flashy exterior. The thrill of an exciting life with Nicky is quickly replaced by Fanny’s terror and despair. Still, Nicky was a male version of what Fanny wanted to become: sophisticated and successful on her own terms, thanks to her unique talents, living the high life above the hoi polloi, free from having to compromise or fit in.”
― Stuart J. Hecht, Transposing Broadway: Jews, Assimilation, and the American Musical

“The problem for our heroines was that the external appeal quickly collapsed once the winnings stopped. After living in the finest Chicago hotels and socializing with the city’s elite, Magnolia’s fortunes deteriorate. She is forced to surrender even her shoddy apartment when she learns of her husband’s abandonment. Magnolia’s pretty fantasies of a handsome husband and enjoying the good life all melt away; she must finally face the grim realities that lay beneath the glittering surface. She is rescued by reconnecting with her roots via the reemergence of Frank and Ellie, of Julie and Cap’n Andy, which collectively engineer her successful return to the stage.”
― Stuart J. Hecht, Transposing Broadway: Jews, Assimilation, and the American Musical

“And where Gaylord Ravenal was fictional, Nicky Arnstein was both actual and still alive at the time of the show’s debut. In Funny Girl, he is portrayed as gallant, not wanting to live off of Fanny’s money, a man of principle and pride. In truth the real Nicky Arnstein gambled away a great deal of Fanny’s money and proved less than honorable. However, what is real is not as important here as what was shaped on stage. The Nicky Arnstein of Funny Girl was an entirely assimilated Jew, could pass as high society, the glittering living embodiment of a fantasy American Dream. He fit in nicely amongst the well-heeled, yet, as a gambler, lived entirely by his wits, beholden to no one—as long as he kept winning. It is implausible that an Italian or Jewish (or Egyptian) immigrant, sans education or polish or wherewithal, would ever be allowed near the high stakes gaming tables of New York, Chicago, or Atlantic City, let alone those of Monte Carlo, London or Paris. Assimilation was part of the price of admission. The problem for our heroines was that the external appeal quickly collapsed once the winnings stopped. After living in the finest Chicago hotels and socializing with the city’s elite, Magnolia’s fortunes deteriorate. She is forced to surrender even her shoddy apartment when she learns of her husband’s abandonment. Magnolia’s pretty fantasies of a handsome husband and enjoying the good life all melt away; she must finally face the grim realities that lay beneath the glittering surface. She is rescued by reconnecting with her roots via the reemergence of Frank and Ellie, of Julie and Cap’n Andy, which collectively engineer her successful return to the stage.”
― Stuart J. Hecht, Transposing Broadway: Jews, Assimilation, and the American Musical

“And where Gaylord Ravenal was fictional, Nicky Arnstein was both actual and still alive at the time of the show’s debut. In Funny Girl, he is portrayed as gallant, not wanting to live off of Fanny’s money, a man of principle and pride. In truth the real Nicky Arnstein gambled away a great deal of Fanny’s money and proved less than honorable. However, what is real is not as important here as what was shaped on stage. The Nicky Arnstein of Funny Girl was an entirely assimilated Jew, could pass as high society, the glittering living embodiment of a fantasy American Dream. He fit in nicely amongst the well-heeled, yet, as a gambler, lived entirely by his wits, beholden to no one—as long as he kept winning. It”
― Stuart J. Hecht, Transposing Broadway: Jews, Assimilation, and the American Musical

“Ravenal and Arnstein are more worldly than the two heroines, at least at the start of their respective relationships. Magnolia and Fanny are virginal where the men are experienced, adding to each man’s commanding mystique. Ravenal and Arnstein also display life experience. Each heroine is in essence asking the older, mature man to help her become a full-blown woman, to help her become a sexually active adult. Nicky Arnstein was played in the original production of Funny Girl by Syd Chaplin and in the film by Omar Sharif. Both actors were known for their polished appearance and debonair manners: nothing rough or crude about either one. Each was elegant and continental, and each would trump even upper-class America’s genteel ideal.”
― Stuart J. Hecht, Transposing Broadway: Jews, Assimilation, and the American Musical

“In Jewish cultural terms, perhaps gamblers represent the opposite of yeshiva buchers, the traditional Talmudic school boys. By definition gamblers are more Americanized and perhaps more manly. Gamblers are akin to aggressive businessmen, who tend to be realistic and ruthless, direct and opportunistic, somewhat immoral and certainly materialistic. If a girl wanted to be rich then better to hang her hat on such a man rather than on a distracted scholar. In addition, since the businessman tends to be more hands-on, compared to the introverted and cerebral student, there is also the implication of having a better love life as well.”
― Stuart J. Hecht, Transposing Broadway: Jews, Assimilation, and the American Musical

“Once successful, along came Nicky. However, the sensible choice for a woman would not have been to consider a life on stage at all, but rather concentrate on hearth and home. Why are professional gamblers seen as romantic?4 Perhaps gamesters are appealing because they are the antithesis of everyday businessmen who lead comparatively quiet lives. Gamblers are exciting. They are spontaneous rather than plodding, wild and free rather than Puritanical, and live in the moment, not shut away counting pennies. In addition, in both Show Boat and Funny Girl the two gamblers are also willing to take a chance on their respective leading ladies. In essence, Gaylord and Nicky are “betting” that Magnolia and Fanny will make perfect mates.5”
― Stuart J. Hecht, Transposing Broadway: Jews, Assimilation, and the American Musical

“So why wed gamblers? This choice is both intriguing and complex. Certainly, the American Dream is tied to capitalism, to notions of materialistic attainment. American business is closely linked to risk and reward and is itself a form of gambling. Even poker and craps are games that ape business practice and skill. Magnolia and Fanny wed gambles because they themselves are risk takers. Magnolia is a risk taker by marrying for love, despite her mother’s stern warning that Mississippi gamblers do not make suitable husbands. Fanny, by contrast, is from the start intent on a show business career. Talent, ambition, and good luck fueled her success.”
― Stuart J. Hecht, Transposing Broadway: Jews, Assimilation, and the American Musical

“So why wed gamblers? This choice is both intriguing and complex. Certainly, the American Dream is tied to capitalism, to notions of materialistic attainment. American business is closely linked to risk and reward and is itself a form of gambling. Even poker and craps are games that ape business practice and skill. Magnolia and Fanny wed gambles because they themselves are risk takers. Magnolia is a risk taker by marrying for love, despite her mother’s stern warning that Mississippi gamblers do not make suitable husbands. Fanny, by contrast, is from the start intent on a show business career. Talent, ambition, and good luck fueled her success. Once successful, along came Nicky. However, the sensible choice for a woman would not have been to consider a life on stage at all, but rather concentrate on hearth and home. Why are professional gamblers seen as romantic?4 Perhaps gamesters are appealing because they are the antithesis of everyday businessmen who lead comparatively quiet lives. Gamblers are exciting. They are spontaneous rather than plodding, wild and free rather than Puritanical, and live in the moment, not shut away counting pennies. In addition, in both Show Boat and Funny Girl the two gamblers are also willing to take a chance on their respective leading ladies. In essence, Gaylord and Nicky are “betting” that Magnolia and Fanny will make perfect mates.5”
― Stuart J. Hecht, Transposing Broadway: Jews, Assimilation, and the American Musical

“Both Funny Girl and Show Boat also take pains to show their heroines’ modest roots. We see Magnolia performing in bad plays with bad actors on the Cotton Blossom show boat and are fully aware of the modest but loving family from which she sprang. Similarly, we see Fanny start out in low-class vaudeville and witness her modest Henry Street roots, where her mother runs a neighborhood saloon. Much more compelling parallels lie in the story of each heroine’s love life. Both wed for love, both wed professional gamblers, and both are ultimately abandoned by their loving but unreliable spouses. Magnolia falls in love with Gaylord Ravenal, a Mississippi gambler; Fanny falls for Nicky Arnstein, a New York gambler.3 To the relatively innocent eyes of Magnolia and Fanny, each man is handsome, suave and sophisticated, living exotic lives far beyond the two women’s sheltered upbringings. Magnolia’s mother Parthy objected to the match, but her father Cap’n Andy helped it along; we know little about Fanny’s mother’s attitude toward her marrying Nick. Each couple marries for love. Once wed, each moves away to live the high life elsewhere. Magnolia and Gaylord move to Chicago where they have their daughter Kim. Though we don’t see them, we hear reports that they party amongst the city’s elite, living opulent lives. Similarly, once wed, Fanny and Nicky enjoy a life of fine restaurants, champagne, and jewels. They revel in materialistic splendor, reflecting each husband’s good luck at the gaming tables. This point is especially hit home by Nicky’s refusal to wed Fanny unless he makes a bundle, not wanting to be beholden to Fanny’s bank account. Their “glitter and be gay” worlds eventually unravel, however, as the gamblers’ luck turns. Eventually Gaylord abandons Magnolia and Nicky leaves Fanny. Gaylord leaves Magnolia flat, forcing her return to the stage for a livelihood. By contrast, because Fanny is already a star her pain at abandonment is not economically devastating, though certainly as emotionally crushing as Magnolia’s. Not only do both abandoned wives carry on, both make still-bigger names for themselves professionally. Unlike the Cinderella musicals, both Show Boat and Funny Girl center primarily upon romance, rather than social acceptance. Magnolia and Fanny fall head over heels for their respective beaux, seemingly oblivious to their men being gamblers and hence rather disreputable ne’er-do-wells. Consequently, both Fanny and Magnolia attain public renown but privately suffer. So why wed gamblers?”
― Stuart J. Hecht, Transposing Broadway: Jews, Assimilation, and the American Musical

“Berlin wrote songs for a number of Astaire films of the period: Top Hat, Follow the Fleet, On the Avenue, Carefree. The two men became close personal friends for the rest of their lives. But the choice of Astaire as a Hollywood leading man is, at first glance, puzzling. Certainly, he was an extraordinary dancer, and songwriters appreciated his accuracy and clarity when singing their songs, even if his voice was reedy and thin. But a leading man? Essentially, Astaire epitomized what Berlin and other Jews strove to achieve. He was debonair, polished, sophisticated. His screen persona was that of a raffish, outspoken fellow, not obviously attractive, whose audacity and romanticism and wit in the end won out. It didn’t hurt that he could dance. But even his dance—so smooth and elegant—was done mostly to jazz. Unlike a Gene Kelly, who was athletic, handsome, and sexy, Astaire got by on style. Kelly was American whereas Astaire was continental. In short, Astaire was someone the immigrant might himself become. It was almost like Astaire was himself Jewish beneath the relaxed urbanity. In a film like Top Hat he is audacious, rude, clever, funny, and articulate, relying mostly on good intentions and charm to win over the girl—and the audience. He is the antithesis of a Clark Gable or a Gary Cooper; Astaire is all clever and chatty, balding, small, and thin. No rugged individualist he. And yet his romantic nature and persistence win all.”
― Stuart J. Hecht, Transposing Broadway: Jews, Assimilation, and the American Musical

“Berlin wrote songs for a number of Astaire films of the period: Top Hat, Follow the Fleet, On the Avenue, Carefree. The two men became close personal friends for the rest of their lives. But the choice of Astaire as a Hollywood leading man is, at first glance, puzzling. Certainly, he was an extraordinary dancer, and songwriters appreciated his accuracy and clarity when singing their songs, even if his voice was reedy and thin. But a leading man? Essentially, Astaire epitomized what Berlin and other Jews strove to achieve. He was debonair, polished, sophisticated. His screen persona was that of a raffish, outspoken fellow, not obviously attractive, whose audacity and romanticism and wit in the end won out. It didn’t hurt that he could dance. But even his dance—so smooth and elegant—was done mostly to jazz. Unlike a Gene Kelly, who was athletic, handsome, and sexy, Astaire got by on style. Kelly was American whereas Astaire was continental. In short, Astaire was someone the immigrant might himself become. It was almost like Astaire was himself Jewish beneath the relaxed urbanity. In a film like Top Hat he is audacious, rude, clever, funny, and articulate, relying mostly on good intentions and charm to win over the girl—and the audience. He is the antithesis of a Clark Gable or a Gary Cooper; Astaire is all clever and chatty, balding, small, and thin. No rugged individualist he. And yet his romantic nature and persistence win all. Astaire only got on his knees to execute a dazzling dance move, never as an act of submission. His characters were largely wealthy, self-assured, and worldly. He danced with sophistication and class. In his famous pairings with Ginger Rogers, the primary dance numbers had the couple dressed to the nines, swirling on equally polished floors to the strains of deeply moving romantic ballads.”
― Stuart J. Hecht, Transposing Broadway: Jews, Assimilation, and the American Musical