BWW First Person: 'An Italian Thing': A BRONX TALE Meets a Staten Island Girl

When I first met Joe, my Missouri-born boyfriend, he had never before encountered the term, "stoop." "Let's sit on the stoop," I'd say. "Wait for me on the stoop." "I was standing on the stoop.", etc.

"What the hell is a stoop?" he'd reply, bewildered by this seeming grammatical error in my otherwise meticulous speaking pattern, and invariably I'd answer, "It's a New York thing."/"It's an Italian thing." And, without question, my non-native boyfriend would shake his head and otherwise leave this cultural idiosyncrasy at rest, knowing that I'd be providing no further explanation.

This season, my Midwesterner and I got to visit "A Bronx Tale", a vibrant and moving new musical in which the "stoop" is the central theme of its opening number. To be honest, when the idea of a musical version of Chazz Palminteri's autobiographical one-man-show-turned-film arose, I was somewhat trepidatious. For Italian kids, particularly of the New York variety, "A Bronx Tale" is something of a staple; we watch it growing up, we internalize its lessons, and quote it endlessly. More than half of all yearbook quotes in Staten Island are comprised of the words, "The saddest thing in life is wasted talent." (A statistic I just made up, but it does creep in quite a lot.)

The theatre has its history of singing gangsters, some successful ("Guys and Dolls"), some less so ("Bullets Over Broadway"), but the tone of this particular piece struck me as odd fodder for a musical. Call me crazy, but a dark, and often graphic, look at one young man's coming of age, torn between the honorable work ethic of his father and the power of the local mob boss didn't exactly sing for me, in theory. But, placing my trust in the legendary creative team, I made my way to the Longacre Theater on a November afternoon to visit with the now singing and dancing denizens of the Bronx.

Admittedly, my trepidation followed me to 48th street that day. But as the lights came down for the matinee, something truly unexpected happened, and I could not help but feel tears of pride fill my eyes as, for the first time, I saw something truly familiar in the theatre.

As a white person, I have never found myself wanting for better representation in entertainment. Generally, it is understood that there will be faces that look like mine for miles in every direction no matter where I turn. But as I sat in the audience that day it wasn't the familiarity of the faces that drew me in. That afternoon, a truly authentic story of my heritage played out before my eyes. The accents, the stories, the slang, the code, the wisdom, the food; the essence of what it really means to be Italian-American in all its overlooked forms coming to life on a Broadway stage.

Italians generally reject the image of the "gangster." From Jolson all the way through Scorcese's films and up to "The Sopranos", the murderous mafioso cliche has always been a point of contention within the Italian-American community. For this reason, "A Bronx Tale" has always had a special place in the pantheon of Italian representation. Because although it has its fair share of routine mafia activity (an undeniable facet of our history and present) we also get a glimpse into the bulk of what makes the Italian-American community truly special.

We see Lorenzo, the pure-hearted and hardworking family man, a first generation American who puts his dreams on hold so that his son might have a better future. We have Rosina, Calogero's devoted and tough as nails housewife mother who provides a sobering glimpse into the proud history of Italian immigrants. Even in the neighborhood's resident made-man, Sonny, we are afforded an opportunity to see into the soul of a hardened criminal who, in his own way, attempts to steer his young charge in a better direction than the one he chose. We see a vibrant community of families working hard to create a better life for their children than they one they knew.

With all of this Italian pride taking center stage, however, this is a story that doesn't hesitate to reckon with some of the more blighted moments in our history. It pointedly asks both its characters and audience to examine tough questions regarding racial division and bias. It breaks through stereotypes without absolving wrongdoing. It peeks behind the curtain of history and forces us to decide what kind of world we want to live in. It is this kind of rigorous interrogation of both past and present that pushes us forward in all facets of society.

Generally, I consider myself a crusader for better representation for people of all colors, creeds, ethnicities, sexualities, and gender identities, both on stage and everywhere else. But as a white woman, I could never speak to the emotional impact of what that representation truly means, only that it was necessary. That day I stood for a few short hours in the shoes of these marginalized groups, swelling with pride at the sight of my people at the center of one of our most beloved stories and getting a form of validation that, frankly, I never knew I needed.

Taking in the glorious opening number that day, I watched, bursting with pride, as the familiar faces of "the neighborhood" swirled and smiled before the audience, welcoming us to Belmont Avenue. My boyfriend, on the other hand, couldn't help but laugh, finally understanding what I'd been getting at with this "stoop" business. As a confirmed outsider, he got an easy kick out of the novelty of the lyrics, confirmation of what had up until that moment had been brushed off as, "an Italian thing" but for myself and many other Italian-Americans in the audience, it was so much more. It was validation; visual, physical, singing, dancing proof of our worth as a community.

The current push for better representation in our media is one that is often trivialized in the scheme of greater ills in our society. But the need for positive depictions isn't simply a matter of wanting to see familiar faces. It is a psychological and emotional need to not only be seen, but truly and fundamentally understood. In the face of a world where division is the theme of the day and whole ethnic groups find themselves being held responsible for the actions of a few, it is paramount that we give ourselves opportunities to see past the stereotypes and examine the human beings confined to them, for better or for worse. And that's not just, "an Italian thing."