The Unsettling Intersection of Food and Theater on Broadway

The recent announcement that Pulitzer Prize finalist “Here There Are Blueberries” will take its final bow on Broadway this fall has sparked a reevaluation of the intersection of food, theater, and history. On the surface, the pairing seems unusual: an album of Nazi-era photographs showing camp guards at leisure, brought to life on stage by Moisés Kaufman and Amanda Gronich.

However, as one delves into the story behind this production, it becomes clear that there are unexpected connections between food, culture, and our understanding of humanity. The use of the album’s title “Here There Are Blueberries” is particularly noteworthy, given its seemingly incongruous reference to a fruit with little apparent connection to the horrors depicted in the photographs.

In reality, Kaufman and Gronich are not simply trying to tell a historical tale; they’re using the story as a lens through which to examine our collective relationship with food. The photographs themselves show camp guards lounging on the beach, enjoying picnics, and engaging in other leisure activities that seem jarringly incongruous with the atrocities being committed.

Kaufman has said that these images hold a mirror up to our humanity in the most intimate and unsettling way – forcing us to confront our own complicity in historical injustices. The intersection of food and history is a rich and complex one, often glossed over when exploring culinary traditions.

In “Here There Are Blueberries,” Kaufman and Gronich are not simply trying to educate their audience about the past; they’re using the story as a way to explore how our relationship with food has been shaped by historical events. The play’s production history is also noteworthy, having premiered at La Jolla Playhouse in 2022 before making its way Off-Broadway.

It’s clear that Kaufman and his team have invested significant time and effort into refining the production, which will undoubtedly make its Broadway debut all the more impactful. As we look ahead to “Here There Are Blueberries” taking its final bow on Broadway this fall, it’s worth considering what this production means for our understanding of food, culture, and history.

The play’s use of food as a narrative device is particularly striking. The camp guards’ picnics and leisure activities may seem trivial in comparison to the atrocities being committed, but they also highlight the ways in which even in the midst of trauma, people continue to find ways to connect with each other through shared experiences like food.

This theme is not new to Kaufman’s work; he has often used food as a way to explore social justice issues and historical events. “Here There Are Blueberries” represents a natural extension of this interest, using the story of the photographs to examine our collective relationship with food.

The use of storytelling in “Here There Are Blueberries” is also noteworthy – particularly given its reliance on historical events. Kaufman and Gronich are not simply trying to educate their audience about the past; they’re using the story as a way to explore how our relationship with food has been shaped by historical events.

This approach highlights the power of storytelling in shaping our understanding of the world around us. By using the photographs as a narrative device, Kaufman and Gronich are able to tap into something deeper – a sense of shared humanity that transcends the specifics of the story itself.

The production’s use of food as a narrative device also highlights the ways in which our relationship with food is shaped by historical events. It’s not just about the photographs themselves, but about what they reveal about our collective relationship with food – and how that relationship has been shaped by trauma, injustice, and oppression.

As “Here There Are Blueberries” takes its final bow on Broadway this fall, it’s worth considering what we can learn from this production – not just about food, but about our collective relationship with history and culture. The curtain will soon fall on Kaufman’s production, but its impact will undoubtedly linger long after.

As we reflect on the story behind this production – and the ways in which food has been used as a narrative device – we are forced to confront our own complicity in historical injustices. And that is a truly unsettling thing – one that leaves us with more questions than answers, but also with a deeper understanding of what it means to be human.