Worth the schlep
Deb Filler’s latest one-woman show is both uplifting and brilliantly executed. I walked home with an extra spring in my step, despite the January blues. In Cohen, Bernstein, Joni & Me, Filler takes to the stage with all of her best stories: chance encounters with musical celebrities, miserable jobs in New York, childhood memories from post-WWII New Zealand. Now in her seventies with many professional successes already behind her, she focuses on the personal realities behind the big dreams. Where does the journey begin? How do you make your way in the world? What happens when things go pear-shaped – not just once, but over and over again? This warm Jewish Kiwi has seen it all, and her show serves as an important reminder that a full life is often a messy
one.
Filler begins by telling us about her parents, Ruth and Sol, both of whom had a significant influence on her choice of career. Her father was a Holocaust survivor and often reminisced about Leonard Bernstein’s 1948 concert at the Landsberg Displaced Persons Camp. Hearing Bernstein play Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue was what gave him the strength to carry on after the horrors of Auschwitz. Following the liberation, he worked hard, got married and started afresh, opening a bakery in Auckland. Sol was a vibrant, cultured man, and when Filler was a young girl, he used to hum melodies by classical composers and ask her to guess the piece. Ruth, her mother, also
loved music, forever gushing about Broadway and hoping that her daughter would turn into a mini Judy Garland. She was going to be a star!
The opening segment of the show is littered with fond (overwhelmingly Yiddish) impressions and funny anecdotes. Filler ushers us into her early life as if we are old friends, recreating the cast of her youth with a boundless affection that we can’t help but absorb. It is a skilled performance that goes well beyond casual nostalgia, for she single-handedly populates the stage with a variety of unforgettable voices and the transitions are almost entirely seamless. By the end of the night, you feel as though you have met and become intimately acquainted with a whole roomful of characters. It’s like an open love letter to everyone she’s ever known.
Some of Filler’s sharpest humour is located in the descriptions of her young adult life, from her challah-themed encounter with Bernstein to her joke-filled cab ride with Leonard Cohen. These standout moments punctuated an otherwise challenging start to her career in the arts, with years spent scraping by in tenement housing in New York. Completely unembarrassed, Filler tells us of the many, many ‘improper jobs’ she had at this time, including dressing up as an ‘over-sexed Jewish grandmother’ and delivering king-sized futons across the city. It’s a refreshing monologue, most of which is spent glorying in the seedy days before success – and there’s something to be said for this, especially in 2026. You see, in our godforsaken LinkedIn era – where every professional advancement is noted and flaunted – we often forget that each chapter has its place.
Filler helps take us all down a notch, showing us that a zest for life is just as important as naked ambition. L’chaim, Deb! You asked for more young people to come and watch your show: I’m telling them to get a move on. Trust me.