As Kiwi comic and musician Deb Filler kicks off her London run this month, Judi Herman speaks to her about the moments that made her
Comedian, actor and musician Deb Filler has had one hell of a life and career, much of which we discover in Cohen, Bernstein, Joni and Me. This latest show from the Jewish New Zealander – or "Kibrew”, as she reveals – is part storytelling and part concert, with a fistful of humour peppered throughout. Like her previous offering about “the three Lennys” – Kravitz, Cohen, Bernstein and Me – the audience is once again taken on a guitar-fuelled journey through Filler's life, discovering the events that made her and the meetings (and friendships) with her heroes that made her day. Ahead of her London run above The Gatehouse pub in Highgate (20 January to 1 February), we caught up with her to find out more about her celebration of Leonard Bernstein, Leonard Cohen and Joni Mitchell, as well as her upbringing in Auckland, musical family and stance on the rise in antisemitism.
You are so celebratory of everything, not just the music you love, but your heritage and gender too…
I celebrate because, as many of us know, “there but for the grace of God go we”. It was a miracle that I was born. My father survived Auschwitz and my mother survived pre-war Germany. They made it to New Zealand in 1938 from a town called Hildesheim in north-west Germany. My father's family was stuck in Poland and he and his brother were the only ones who made it out, so I feel everything is a gift. I’m lucky because I see the world as a glass half full, and my job is to tell the story and to do it with as much levity, joy and music as possible.
And you've been doing that since you were in single figures, by the sounds of it, telling a vicar “I didn't kill Jesus, so there!” aged nine.
I grew up in a household that was very aware of what antisemitism was and that the germinating of it took place in ‘The Church’. So, as all my classmates in Auckland looked round at me when the vicar said the Jews killed Christ, I thought, “I’ve got to put a stop to this”, even though I was nine. He apologised profusely.
How do you feel about the current rise in antisemitism and the horror that happened on Bondi Beach?
It reaches me on a deeply personal level. I’m sure many of your readers feel the same way. It’s terrifying and I’m angry about it, really angry, and anger is one of the stages of grief you can do something about. I’m going to be a matador and, if the bull is charging after me, my flag is going to be humour and music. And I’m going to tell the truth. All the stories in the show are true and they’re all about the quest for bettering oneself or individuating. I think that’s a very universal journey. I honestly believe that Anne Frank was right – that good reigns in the end. What happens along the way or in the subsequent journey may be upsetting and scary, but we have to gird our loins and tell each other that we are a community and we’re going to come out with our truth and joy blazing.
Tell us a bit more about school…
In the same classroom that the vicar said Jews killed Christ, another teacher played the guitar. He had friends who played too, so they made records of popular folk numbers and used us students as singers. We were called The Little Folk Singers of Mount Roskill and we were very popular – we had hit songs about children on pedestrian crossings! And we covered singles by [major American artists] Malvina Reynolds, Josh White, Bob Dylan and Peter, Paul and Mary. The songs really spoke to my nine-year-old heart because I understood what lyrics about liberation and freedom meant, coming from my background. So I sang with gusto and joy. And, of course, my mother was pushing me: “Why aren't you the lead singer? You're by far the most talented.”
That’s mothers for you.
She was a Jewish mother, but also had an eye for talent. My parents – and my grandmother too – all had musical and storytelling abilities and nurtured my talent. I don't think they expected me to make it my career. I think they expected me to marry, have a family and live round the corner.
No spoilers, but we discover in the show that you actually met Peter, Paul and Mary early on, didn't you?
Yes I did, as a young girl. I sang for them and, well, you'll have to see the show to hear how the story goes. And there's a real arc to the show. Cohen, Bernstein, Joni and Me is not about a groupie or sycophant, it's the real story of a young person who wants to be bigger than her environment, to individuate and find her own voice. I think that's a very universal story. And there are a lot of things that try to stop this character, but do they succeed? Come and see the show to figure that out.
By Judi Herman
Cohen, Bernstein, Joni and Me runs Sunday 18 January – Sunday 1 February. 7.30pm, 4pm (Sun only). £25, £23 concs. Upstairs at the Gatehouse, London, N6 4BD. 020 8340 3488. upstairsatthegatehouse.com