Despite the revisionist thinking about whether he actually lived that’s been occasioned by the archæological tracks that remain — or do not — in the stones and the sands of the Middle East, Moses still looms over Western civilization. Truth, myth, or fiction, he has inspired countless artists to re-create him in art, literature, and drama.
Although it’s not exactly on a scale with Michelangelo’s image in the Sistine Chapel, God’s Donkey, A Traveling Jewish Theatre’s irreverent but moving chronology of the life and times of Moses, might be considered a tiny miracle of theatrical verisimilitude. Utilizing the Story Theater technique developed by Paul Sills in the late 1960s and dependent on the imagination of the audience to enhance its emotive power, this wryly humorous 80-minute mini-musical is as wise a deconstruction of the Book of Exodus as one could wish for.
The San Francisco–based company comprises director Corey Fischer, actors Aaron Davidman and Eric Rhys Miller (who with Fischer wrote the show), and composer Daniel Hoffman, who plays a small orchestra’s worth of instruments on stage. Davidman and Rhys Miller create the entire nation of Egypt, including the evil Pharaoh and his princess slut of a daughter, who sings in rap-like lyrics about the antics of the dysfunctional royal dynasty: " my father building tombs, my brother to be my groom. " It’s no wonder she needs something to amuse her — and as luck would have it, there’s Moses in the bulrushes. Enlisting the physical skills of Chinese acrobats, Davidman and Rhys Miller also portray the entire enslaved nation of Israel and the Egyptian army, not to mention God as a cool dude, his eyes sensibly covered by shades to ward off the rays of the sun.
The transformations from one character to another are accomplished by body posture, gestures, magical changes of voice, and a collection of shmatas that double as various head coverings, costume pieces, and props. Richard Olmsted’s set design of a painted backdrop and raked platform proves that it indeed takes little more than two boards and a passion to make theater. Hoffman’s score ranges from traditional Hebrew chants to rap rhythms, a cabaret-style blues number, and an affectionate spoof of gospel song à la " Let My People Go. "
Like Fiddler on The Roof, the show starts with Hoffman playing a klezmer melody on his violin, then progresses to tell the story through tiny skits, narration, song lyrics, and some stunning pantomime. Pharaoh’s opening command to kill the Israelites’ baby boys because " they are becoming too numerous " is a chilling reminder of how ancient and deeply embedded are the roots of anti-Semitism.
The tone of the piece shifts rapidly from poignance to comedy as Moses is born and grows to manhood. He’s the antihero, with a stuttering tongue and not much self-confidence, despite God’s whiny demands. Pharaoh calls him " God’s donkey, " describing a man who assumes his tasks reluctantly. Indeed, this Moses is unsure of his ability to lead, but he never loses his compassion — or his quick temper. He may question God’s motives — and even the wisdom of some of His moves — but he nonetheless leads the Jews out from Egypt to the hills overlooking the Promised Land. Yet as he observes, the Promised Land isn’t much of a gift, since it’s already inhabited.
The anthropomorphic God of God’s Donkey is a contemporary mirror image of the boutique-crawling denizens of Newbury Street. Imperious in His stance, giving orders that He expects to be followed, this God would no doubt demand the best table at the latest trendy restaurant while paying scant attention to the hard-working wait staff. Quick to anger, he dispenses Justice according to His whims. In the final scene, however, He takes the life breath from Moses, then strides off stage with Moses on His back. Never mind the disappointments and disagreements, God and man who created Him remain intertwined.
