THE DETROIT JEWISH NEWS
Friday, June 15-,- 1984
25
Cristine-Rose, left, who
portrays Janie Blumberg,
and playwright Wendy
Wasserstein, get a chuckle
out of "Isn't It Romantic?"
BY MICHAEL ELKIN
Special to The Jewish News
New 'York — Theater, with its
promise of a romantic relationship in
sheer darkness and its mating ritual
of performance and applause, offers a
seductive siren call to those writers
who heed its sweet allure.
Wendy Wasserstein is one of
those who has turned her heart over
to the stage. In return, she has re-
ceived the love notes that a writer
truly appreciates: critical raves. We
meet in a quiet, cozy cafe next door to
Playwrights Horizons, where her
current hit Isn't It Romantic? is now
playing.
It is drizzly outside, but Was-
serstein is not about to let herself be
drowned out by a mere cloudburst or
two. Her laugh, an unbridled roar
that rips away at the saturnine
weather, invites attention and admi-
ration. Indeed, at 34, Wendy Was-
serstein has a lot to laugh and cheer
about.
Not the least of which is Isn't It
Romantic? which started life at the
Phoenix Theatre here in 1981. A bit-
., tersweet saga of the relationship be-
tween two women who approach 30
with despair and commiserating
hugs and sad tales of opportunities
lost, Isn't It Romantic? has charmed
critics and audiences alike. There is
talk of it moving to a larger theater;
there is now talk of Wasserstein's
script for the movie version.
- As we share cappuccinos, there
is talk . . . of Wasserstein's simpatico
identification with Janie Blumberg,
the comedy's chunky-thighed Jewish
heroine determined to tap dance
around life's precipice. There is talk
of Tasha, Janie's give-'em-hell mom
whose only wish for her daughter is
that she settle down with a nice
Jewish doctor who would remedy
free-lance writer Janie's cash-flow
problems. There is talk of theatrical
succesa,liMPiq'tbittlitig.cirikwVON:.
Wendy Wasserstein:
playwright finds
`insecurity' Off-Broadway
tional magazines to Wendy Wassers-
tein.
But first things first. While
many playwrights begin their
careers as a path to personal dis-
covery, Wasserstein began hers as a
shopping trip. While an "intellectual
history" major at Mount Holyoke
College, Wasserstein was sidet-
racked on her road to a summer ja' as
a congressional intern when a friend
suggested the two take courses in
playwriting at Smith College. "And
then afterward," the friend ex-
plained, "we can shop."
There was no way Wasserstein
could know what was in store for her.
Instead of shopping for bargains,
Wasserstein picked up a career in the
process. The courses at Smith so in-
trigued her that after Holyoke — and
turndowns from several law schools
— she turned to City College, taking
courses with playwright Israel
Horovitz and author Joseph Heller.
"They made playwriting real to
me," she recalled. They were real
people." And, obviously, they weren't
starving artists. "It's not like they
were living in garbage cans."
The stage was set for her next
move, entering Yale Drama School.
At Yale, Wasserstein wrote what was
to be her first hit, Uncommon Women
and Others, which opened in 1977,
six years after her graduation from
Holyoke. Not so coincidentally, Un-
common Women focuses on a group of
women exploring life and options six
years after graduation from Holyoke.
Isn't it romantic? Depends on
your version of romance, says a
-54tere.. g)e
mother of the playwright, it may be a
different story. "In my case, I have
parents who are eager that I marry
soon, said Wasserstein. "I have seven
nieces and nephews and it's still not
enough for members of my family."
Oh, sure, her family is proud of
her singularly sensational accom-
plishments. But . . . "My parents
(Morris and Lola Wasserstein)
thought I'd marry a lawyer and do
community theater in Scarsdale."
Instead, the off-Broadway com-
munity has welcomed her royally.
But Wasserstein's parents should not
be surprised about the way she's act-
ing. Her grandfather, Shima
Schleifer, the principal of a Hebrew
Her family is proud, but
they "thought I'd marry a
lawyer and do community
theater in Scarsdale."
school, also wrote plays, she said. "He
knew a lot of people in the theater,
like Molly Picon. My parents never
talk about that aspect."
Wasserstein's parents are like
the Blumbergs: well-meaning and
supportive — and she loves them de-
arly. "I was brought up with my
mother saying, 'Always remember,
yOu have your family.' Pause. 'You
have your family. You have your
family.' " Wasserstein said with an
affectionate laugh.
Family is about all that Janie
and her best friend, Harriet
ecirttwall 'have inign'tit Romantic?
That and the tsores of loneliness.
Even when they meet potential
suitors, the two women share a spe-
cial bond: despair.
Despair is not part of Wassers-
tein's current vocabulary; she
chucked that a while ago. Insecurity,
however, still has a special meaning
for her. "Oh, I'm so insecure," she
said, taking a sip of her cappuccino.
"Maybe because my career doesn't
fall easily into one particular path.
I'm not a traditional sort of person.
But then, I realize I am my mother's
daughter."
• What does that mean?
•
"My mother is a creative per-
son," she said. "Someone who walks
into the room and sings, 'here's no
children like our children.' "
To a degree, Lola Wasserstein is
right. One son, an attorney; worked
on the merger between Getty Oil and
Texaco. Another child handles com-
munications for American Express.
And then there's Wendy, the
playwright. "The triumph of the
underdog!" she chuckled about her-
self.
That underdog is also now a
Guggenheim Fellow, a dikoncerting
victory of sorts when Wasserstein
checked her latest Holyoke alumni
magazine. When she looked at the
list of women and their accom-
plishments, most had the same to of-
fer: children. "Then I came to my
name: 'Wendy Wasserstein received
a, Guggenheim.' "
A Guggenheim, a hit at the
Playwrights Horizons, a new musi-
cal, a theatrical legacy including Un-
common Women: Wendy Wassers-
tein can be proud of herself. And the
family of this uncommon woman also
has a right to be proud.
They are, aren't they? "My
mother says, 'Of course, I'm proud of
her,' " smiled the playwright. " 'But
I'm proud of all my Children'