Steve Cuiffo Is Lenny Bruce at Mass MoCA
Yaddee, Yaddee, Yadda
By: Charles Giuliano - Dec 07, 2008
The mid 30s actor and comic, Steve Cuiffo, aspires to be a living museum/ library of the hipster comic Lenny Bruce (October 13, 1925- August 3, 1966). He has memorized some five hours of Bruce material and through his heir, a daughter, Kitty Bruce, has been given access to the comic's papers and notes for performances.
The hour of material presented as "Steve Cuiffo Is Lenny Bruce" in the Cabaret of Mass MoCA was faithful to its source. There was an attempt to adhere to the cadence, nasal, New York accent, scattered, reflective delivery, mannerisms and nuances. While this conflated as an impersonation we were never able to lose ourselves and sniff the intoxicating fumes of the greatest of all hipsters. We remained too grounded rather than getting stoned on the outrageousness and insights of one of the greatest social satirists of his generation. It was just not the Lenny Bruce we recall as an icon of irreverence in the 1960s when the counter culture worshiped Bruce as the Jonathan Swift of our time.
There is an enduring hipster dictum "Never hip a square." In that sense most of the nuance, references, and slang were lost on the mostly square, suburban audience. At one point, for example, Cuiffo riffed on the relative merit of jazz performers with scathing comments on, among others, Dave Brubeck and Paul Desmond, who do not swing. But he said of alto sax player, Desmond, that at least he had his own style unlike all those guys like Stitt and Getz who tried to blow like Bird. Yeah right, you don't know what I'm talking about. That's the point.
Regarding hipsters and the 60s, well, yah haddah be there man. Like gone. Of course there were always hipsters hanging in the jazz world. Particularly Jewish jazz musicians. Well, not always, Benny Goodman was definitely not a hipster. But that other Jewish clarinet player, Mezz Mezzrow, sure was. Nobody listens to his music anymore as it was derivative at best. But his book "Really the Blues" remains one of the great classics particularly for its use of slang that is so arcane that you have to constantly flip to its glossary to follow the drift. Years ago I devoured it like the Bible. At about the same time I was listening to the Bruce LPs on Fantasy as well as the sides of Lord Buckley, Dick Gregory, George Carlin, Shelly Berman and other anti Americans. God bless them. A lot of us grooved on King Pleasure and Lambert Hendricks and Ross. In high school I went to Storyville with my pals Ken Fried and Bill Serrill to dig the scat trio. Ken and I were sophisticated and ordered cocktails but Bill was so dufus we got carded and served Shirley Temples. It was humiliating. Annie was sensational in a pink, peau de soie, sheath dress accented with long gloves. To hide the tracks. She dropped out but I caught her just once years later when she was straight.
Growing up absurd in Post War America being cool was how one clung to the fragile thread of sanity. Not much made sense. Like the ex Marine dads of the chicks I dated who would put me through the wringer like a witness before the HUAC committee. You had to pledge allegiance to the flag before you could take their frails to the flicks. Then grope about in the back seat at the local passion pit. If you catch the drift. Solid.
The other side of all this, the square suburban thing, is being presented brilliantly in the TV series "Mad Men." We became fans during the second season and are now checking out season one on Netflix. It captures the era I grew up in and revolted against. Particularly, all the smoking and drinking as well as the smarmy, dirty sex. Nice girls who did it, like Peggy, got knocked up. Just like in all those romance magazines my sister read. Nobody I knew actually scored but there was a lot of heavy breathing.
Lenny Bruce took that absurdity head on. His approach was about pushing the buttons of race, sex, politics and the bomb. We all lived under a nuclear cloud. "On the Beach" was a popular novel at the time. Later I saw it as a nude ballet performed in Copenhagen by the Royal Danish Ballet. It was the time of "I Am Curious Yellow."
While Lenny was a smacked out Hipster there were also the pot smoking Beatniks like Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac. Bill Burroughs was a Beat but a junkie. Kerouac retired to Lowell where he committed Catholic suicide. And threw knives at his mother when he was blitzed. In high school we read "Howl" and "On the Road." A friend, Chaz Starr, even drove a Hudson Hornet. What a short man. We wore shades and hung out at coffee shops like Club 47 in Cambridge where we first heard Joan Baez, Tom Rush, and Bob Dylan.
By the late 60's there were riots in the streets protesting the war in Vietnam. The Beatles recorded "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" and Leary told us to "Turn On, Tune In and Drop Out." Kids became hippies but they were more dopey than hip. True hipsters like Lenny Bruce were smart and acerbic. There was a revolutionary fervor and sarcasm that was lost on the political zealots and schlumpy drop outs, man. It wasn't all groovy as the notion of being hip had lost its edge; inundated by zillions of total gonzo wannabeees. The kids went from the Kingston Trio and Peter Paul and Mary to Jimi Hendrix and the Doors. They knew nothing about jazz although Miles met them half way with "Bitches Brew" which was too far out. It frustrated Miles who never managed to reach the same audience as Sly Stone.
This seems like the right time to say Yaddee Yaddee Yadda. It was the Seinfeld tribute to Bruce. The expression came during the famous Father Folotsky dialogue with the rioting prisoner Dutch. The good priest is trying to strike a deal with Dutch the response to which is "Yaddee Yaddee Yadda Father." Or "Dutch, this is Kiki, the hospital attendant, don't give up the good times boobie." Yaddee Yaddee Yadda was short hand for stop ragtiming and talking jive. What a hilarious routine.
It is what I had anticipated from Cuiffo. There were so many great bits. One half of Lenny was outrageous stand up comic. The other side, which Cuiffo presented, was Lenny the crusader and social commentator. It is the later aspect that is captured in the raw, black and white film of one of his final appearances "The Lenny Bruce Performance Film" (1967) which is the only feature length footage of a performance. By then, he had been busted and the appearance is obsessed with the case and its nuances. During much of the film he reads from and comments on a transcript of the trial. I showed it to my avant-garde class and got a mixed, even apathetic reaction. To a young audience it was dated and not very funny. It would have been better to play the LPs of his comic sketches. I was never able to convey the true sense of Lenny Bruce and his tragic legacy.
That was the problem with Cuiffo's performance last night. It just wasn't funny. Like the real Lenny Bruce, on any given night, you just don't know who would show up. Today, talking dirty isn't all that shocking. Back in the day, it was hilarious and outrageous, Times change and nothing dates faster than comedy.