Black Magic Crosses Directing & Design Line in Connecticut

December 9th, 2015 § 8 comments § permalink

There’s been a great deal of discussion in the past couple of months about the rights of playwrights, the legal protections of copyright and licensing agreements, the prerogative of directors to freshly interpret a writer’s work and so on. But none of this should suggest that writers are the only theatre artists whose work is to be respected and protected. This holds true, variously on legal and ethical grounds, for all creative artists in theatre.

Bell Book & Candle at TheatreWorks New Milford

The cast of Bell Book & Candle at TheatreWorks New Milford (Photo by Richard Pettibone)

This is brought to the fore currently by a production of John van Druten’s supernatural comedy Bell, Book and Candle at the company TheatreWorks in New Milford, Connecticut, running into January. Theatreworks is a non-Equity company that pays its actors a stipend for appearing in productions; whether they are a community theatre, semi-professional or professional non-Equity is subject that could be debated, but that’s not where my focus is fixed.

Instead, I’m looking at photos of Bell, Book and Candle, and though I haven’t seen the production at TheatreWorks, the photos seem strangely familiar. Why? Because the set appears to be a fairly slavish recreation of a production of Bell Book and Candle that was co-produced by Long Wharf Theatre and Hartford Stage three years ago. That production was directed by Darko Tresnjak and designed by Alexander Dodge. Incidentally, it is 30 miles from New Milford to Long Wharf, and 40 miles from New Milford to Hartford Stage.

Mate MacCluggage in Bell, Book and Candle at Long Wharf Theatre (photo by T. Charles Erickson)

Kate MacCluggage in Bell, Book and Candle at Long Wharf Theatre (photo by T. Charles Erickson)

The similarities are striking, and having discovered that I’m connected to many of the creative team and cast of the Long Wharf/Hartford Stage production on Facebook, I can say that they think so too. Indeed, while I don’t think it’s appropriate to publish people’s Facebook posts when I can’t be sure what’s private and what’s public, I will quote simply the first word of Tresnjak’s initial post on this subject: “Grrrrrr.”

There is no copyright protection for the work of directors (though the ethics of replication should be taken into account by all theatre artists), but designs can be copyrighted, and so the appropriation of Dodge’s work (created in collaboration with Tresnjak for his production) by TheatreWorks director and designer Joseph Russo without permission has crossed a line. While the costumes in the New Milford production are reminiscent of those designed by Fabio Toblini for the prior Connecticut production, they are not replicas. Anyone undertaking a Google search will also discover another set of similar photos from a Bell, Book and Candle at The Old Globe in San Diego in 2007, but that’s understandable: it was also directed by Tresnjak and designed by Dodge.

It is incumbent upon directors to produce a script according to the approved version by the playwright, yet it is also incumbent upon them to create their production anew, through their own conception, their cast and their design, to name but a few key elements. Now to be fair, there’s a blurry line when it comes to iconic shows, often musicals. Productions of A Chorus Line rarely stray far from the original, particularly Theoni V. Aldredge’s costumes, and as an avowed Sweeney Todd fan, every production I saw for years was in some way an homage to the Hal Prince directed original, and to Eugene Lee’s scenic design, until John Doyle broke the mold with his Watermill production that eventually came to Broadway.

But unless both Joe Russo and Alexander Dodge either have vivid personal memories of the original 1950 Broadway production of BB&C and/or they both lifted their ideas from photos of George Jenkins’s original Broadway designs (which likely were only photographed in black and white), it’s pretty safe to say that Russo took “his” design ideas from Dodge, without permission. That’s not an homage, that’s copying.

Given the online conversation over the past 11 hours, word of concern has reached Joseph Russo and Theatreworks. At 10:30 this morning, the following was posted to Theatreworks’ public Facebook page:

Dear friends of TheatreWorks: we’ve been receiving several comments on Facebook and in a recent review by OnStage Critics Circle, that our production design for “Bell, Book & Candle” was inspired by The Hartford Stage production of 2012. This is correct, and the oversight to credit director Darko Tresnjak and designer Alexander Dodge occurred in our rush to open the show last weekend. We are crediting both Mr. Dodge and Mr. Tresnjak in our program, on our website, and any other communications involving the production. We thank you for your kind attention to this, and we apologize for any misunderstanding. What’s more, we appreciate you raising this issue with us and for supporting TheatreWorks New Milford.

This statement misses the point entirely. It’s not that Tresnjak and Dodge should have been credited – their work should never have been taken in the first place. That Russo acknowledges the debt his production owes to the Long Wharf/Hartford Stage original confirms exactly how he came by his directorial and design concept, but his statement neither excuses or resolves the issue. I suspect unions have already been contacted by the artists involved in the source production.

Chronicling this incident is not meant to demonize TheatreWorks, who are at least in the process of owning up to what they’ve done. They still must go farther than their statement, which glosses over the issue and ignores the essential problem. How Tresnjak and Dodge choose to settle this issue remains to be seen, and they deserve satisfaction for any claims that may be forthcoming; that their original work was done at major theatres, and the copying was at a small one, should be irrelevant to the conversation. TheatreWorks has hopefully learned an important lesson, and through them, perhaps others will as well.

This does provide an excellent example about respect for every creative element in every production, and while examples don’t often come to light, there has been litigation over the appropriation of key elements from Urinetown (the original Broadway production) by another company, to name a prominent precedent, demonstrating that this practice is not confined to small, quasi-professional companies, but to professional productions as well.

To those who have expressed to me in recent weeks their concern that in directing productions they don’t want to be hamstrung by excessive faithfulness to published scripts, and therefore original productions, this is a perfect example of why doing so isn’t in anyone’s best interests. Respecting an author’s intent is not the same as creating a Xerox copy – or a 19th generation copy – of the original or another notable production. It’s about how does every director and their team at every level – academic, amateur and professional – imagine a play anew without subverting the playwright’s wishes (unless permission is granted to do so), making their own discoveries along the way.

TheatreWorks Facebook postUpdate, December 9, 2:30 pm: The Facebook post from TheatreWorks referred to above was online as of 11:30 am as this post was being prepared, but was subsequently removed. However, the same post still appears, for the time being, in the comments section of a review of the production on the Facebook page of the online On Stage magazine.

Update, December 9, 8 pm: Earlier today, several hours after this piece was first posted, I spoke briefly with Darko Tresnjak, who I know casually. He spoke of being “freaked out” at discovering the remarkable similarities between his production of Bell, Book and Candle and the nearby production in New Milford. Tresnjak noted that it had come on the heels of discovering that a Swedish production of A Gentleman’s Guide To Love And Murder (Tresnjak won a Tony for directing the Broadway production) had copied Linda Cho’s costume designs, noting they replicated specifics which were in no way indicated in the text and must have been gleaned from photos and videos online. He also described to me particular choices he had made with his designers on BB&C, which were quite distinct from the show’s original Broadway production and in no way indicated in the printed script.

“I don’t want to be petty, but I’m upset,” said Tresnjak. He said he was speaking out because, “It’s just not right. If you let it happen, it will happen.”

Update, December 10, 9 am: TheatreWorks has canceled performances of Bell, Book and Candle until further notice. It was announced on their Facebook page at midnight.

TheatreWorks Facebook notice

Update, December 17, 4 pm: Bell, Book and Candle is now scheduled to resume performance tomorrow night at TheatreWorks, according to the following letter which appears on the company’s website:

Dear Patrons and Friends of TheatreWorks,

We want to express our sincere apologies for the cancellation of some of the performances of Bell, Book & Candle.

As most of you know, TheatreWorks New Milford is almost 50 years old. We are a small, not-for-profit, non-professional theatre and our mission is not to make a profit, but to provide a service to the community of New Milford and surrounding areas. Our Board of Directors are all volunteers. We therefore must place a good deal of trust in our directors and designers to provide the best possible productions.

Joseph Russo, the director of this production, has directed a number of productions at TheatreWorks in recent years. He indicated that he saw the production of Bell, Book & Candle at Hartford Stage in 2012, which inspired him to stage it at TheatreWorks.

In his zeal to mount this production, Joe designed and built a set which contained major elements that were extremely similar to those used at Long Wharf/Hartford Stage. He was unaware that these actions constituted an infringement. Those of us at TheatreWorks who are responsible for the artistic decisions were unaware of these similarities until we received notification from Long Wharf Theatre and Hartford Stage.

The Board of Directors of TheatreWorks takes full responsibility for this oversight, and we have taken the following actions:

1) Our production has been completely re-staged and re-designed, under the direction of actor/director Matt Austin and will reopen on Friday, December 18th for an 8PM performance.
2) Mr. Russo has voluntarily resigned from the Board, and has sent an apology to Hartford Stage, Long Wharf Theatre, Alexander Dodge and Darko Tresnjak, the latter two being the respective designer and director of The Hartford Stage/Long Wharf production of Bell, Book & Candle.
3) TheatreWorks has also personally apologized to all of the aforementioned injured parties.
4) We are putting in place a new policy to review all of the design elements and staging of every future production before the production begins rehearsals.

The Board would like to extend a special thanks to our cast of Bell, Book & Candle, who were integral in the re-mounting of this production. In addition, we would like to thank Mr. Dodge, Mr. Tresnjak, Michael Stotts, General Manager of Hartford Stage, and Joshua Borenstein, General Manager of Long Wharf Theatre for their graciousness, understanding and forgiveness throughout this situation.

Again, we are very sorry for this incident. It has been a hard lesson for us, yet we are very grateful for having learned it. We are also grateful for all of your patience, support and kindness throughout.

Thank you again, and we hope you can join us as we re-open Bell, Book & Candle on December 18th as a humbler and wiser organization.

Respectfully,
The Board of Directors of TheatreWorks New Milford

Correction: An earlier version of this post misidentified the designer of the original production of Sweeney Todd. It now appears correctly in the text.

Howard Sherman is director of the Arts Integrity Initiative at The New School College of Performing Arts.

 

Black Magic Crosses Directing & Design Line in Connecticut

December 9th, 2015 § Comments Off on Black Magic Crosses Directing & Design Line in Connecticut § permalink

Bell Book and Candle at Long Wharf Theatre (Photo by T. Charles Erickson)

Bell Book and Candle at Long Wharf Theatre (Photo by T. Charles Erickson)

There’s been a great deal of discussion in the past couple of months about the rights of playwrights, the legal protections of copyright and licensing agreements, the prerogative of directors to freshly interpret a writer’s work and so on. But none of this should suggest that writers are the only theatre artists whose work is to be respected and protected. This holds true, variously on legal and ethical grounds, for all creative artists in theatre.

This is brought to the fore currently by a production of John van Druten’s supernatural comedy Bell, Book and Candle at the company TheatreWorks in New Milford, Connecticut, running into January. Theatreworks is a non-Equity company that pays its actors a stipend for appearing in productions; whether they are a community theatre, semi-professional or professional non-Equity is subject that could be debated, but that’s not where my focus is fixed.

Instead, I’m looking at photos of Bell, Book and Candle, and though I haven’t seen the production at TheatreWorks, the photos seem strangely familiar. Why? Because the set appears to be a fairly slavish recreation of a production of Bell Book and Candle that was co-produced by Long Wharf Theatre and Hartford Stage three years ago. That production was directed by Darko Tresnjak and designed by Alexander Dodge. Incidentally, it is 30 miles from New Milford to Long Wharf, and 40 miles from New Milford to Hartford Stage.

Bell Book and Candle atTheatreworks New Milford

Bell Book and Candle at Theatreworks New Milford

The similarities are striking, and having discovered that I’m connected to many of the creative team and cast of the Long Wharf/Hartford Stage production on Facebook, I can say that they think so too. Indeed, while I don’t think it’s appropriate to publish people’s Facebook posts when I can’t be sure what’s private and what’s public, I will quote simply the first word of Tresnjak’s initial post on this subject: “Grrrrrr.”

There is no copyright protection for the work of directors (though the ethics of replication should be taken into account by all theatre artists), but designs can be copyrighted, and so the appropriation of Dodge’s work (created in collaboration with Tresnjak for his production) by TheatreWorks director and designer Joseph Russo without permission has crossed a line. While the costumes in the New Milford production are reminiscent of those designed by Fabio Toblini for the prior Connecticut production, they are not replicas. Anyone undertaking a Google search will also discover another set of similar photos from a Bell, Book and Candle at The Old Globe in San Diego in 2007, but that’s understandable: it was also directed by Tresnjak and designed by Dodge.

It is incumbent upon directors to produce a script according to the approved version by the playwright, yet it is also incumbent upon them to create their production anew, through their own conception, their cast and their design, to name but a few key elements. Now to be fair, there’s a blurry line when it comes to iconic shows, often musicals. Productions of A Chorus Line rarely stray far from the original, particularly Theoni V. Aldredge’s costumes, and as an avowed Sweeney Todd fan, every production I saw for years was in some way an homage to the Hal Prince directed original, and to Eugene Lee’s scenic design, until John Doyle broke the mold with his Watermill production that eventually came to Broadway.

But unless both Joe Russo and Alexander Dodge either have vivid personal memories of the original 1950 Broadway production of BB&C and/or they both lifted their ideas from photos of George Jenkins’s original Broadway designs (which likely were only photographed in black and white), it’s pretty safe to say that Russo took “his” design ideas from Dodge, without permission. That’s not an homage, that’s copying.

Given the online conversation over the past 11 hours, word of concern has reached Joseph Russo and Theatreworks. At 10:30 this morning, the following was posted to Theatreworks’ public Facebook page:

Dear friends of TheatreWorks: we’ve been receiving several comments on Facebook and in a recent review by OnStage Critics Circle, that our production design for “Bell, Book & Candle” was inspired by The Hartford Stage production of 2012. This is correct, and the oversight to credit director Darko Tresnjak and designer Alexander Dodge occurred in our rush to open the show last weekend. We are crediting both Mr. Dodge and Mr. Tresnjak in our program, on our website, and any other communications involving the production. We thank you for your kind attention to this, and we apologize for any misunderstanding. What’s more, we appreciate you raising this issue with us and for supporting TheatreWorks New Milford.

This statement misses the point entirely. It’s not that Tresnjak and Dodge should have been credited – their work should never have been taken in the first place. That Russo acknowledges the debt his production owes to the Long Wharf/Hartford Stage original confirms exactly how he came by his directorial and design concept, but his statement neither excuses or resolves the issue. I suspect unions have already been contacted by the artists involved in the source production.

Chronicling this incident is not meant to demonize TheatreWorks, who are at least in the process of owning up to what they’ve done. They still must go farther than their statement, which glosses over the issue and ignores the essential problem. How Tresnjak and Dodge choose to settle this issue remains to be seen, and they deserve satisfaction for any claims that may be forthcoming; that their original work was done at major theatres, and the copying was at a small one, should be irrelevant to the conversation. TheatreWorks has hopefully learned an important lesson, and through them, perhaps others will as well.

This does provide an excellent example about respect for every creative element in every production, and while examples don’t often come to light, there has been litigation over the appropriation of key elements from Urinetown (the original Broadway production) by another company, to name a prominent precedent, demonstrating that this practice is not confined to small, quasi-professional companies, but to professional productions as well.

To those who have expressed to me in recent weeks their concern that in directing productions they don’t want to be hamstrung by excessive faithfulness to published scripts, and therefore original productions, this is a perfect example of why doing so isn’t in anyone’s best interests. Respecting an author’s intent is not the same as creating a Xerox copy – or a 19th generation copy – of the original or another notable production. It’s about how does every director and their team at every level – academic, amateur and professional – imagine a play anew without subverting the playwright’s wishes (unless permission is granted to do so), making their own discoveries along the way.

TheatreWorks Facebook postUpdate, December 9, 2:30 pm:The Facebook post from TheatreWorks referred to above was online as of 11:30 am as this post was being prepared, but was subsequently removed. However, the same post still appears, for the time being, in the comments section of a review of the production on the Facebook page of the online On Stage magazine.

Update, December 9, 8 pm: Earlier today, several hours after this piece was first posted, I spoke briefly with Darko Tresnjak, who I know casually. He spoke of being “freaked out” at discovering the remarkable similarities between his production of Bell, Book and Candle and the nearby production in New Milford. Tresnjak noted that it had come on the heels of discovering that a Swedish production of A Gentleman’s Guide To Love And Murder (Tresnjak won a Tony for directing the Broadway production) had copied Linda Cho’s costume designs, noting they replicated specifics which were in no way indicated in the text and must have been gleaned from photos and videos online. He also described to me particular choices he had made with his designers on BB&C, which were quite distinct from the show’s original Broadway production and in no way indicated in the printed script.

“I don’t want to be petty, but I’m upset,” said Tresnjak. He said he was speaking out because, “It’s just not right. If you let it happen, it will happen.”

Update, December 10, 9 am: TheatreWorks has canceled performances of Bell, Book and Candle until further notice. It was announced on their Facebook page at midnight.

TheatreWorks Facebook notice

Correction: An earlier version of this post misidentified the designer of the original production of Sweeney Todd. It now appears correctly in the text.

Howard Sherman is director of the Arts Integrity Initiative at The New School College of Performing Arts.

American Theatre: A.R. Gurney’s Last Play? For Pete’s Sake, Say It Ain’t So

October 1st, 2015 § Comments Off on American Theatre: A.R. Gurney’s Last Play? For Pete’s Sake, Say It Ain’t So § permalink

A.R. Gurney (Photo by GregoryCostanzo)

A.R. Gurney (Photo by Gregory Costanzo)

Standing with A.R. Gurney in the garden area outside Connecticut’s Westport Country Playhouse on a summer night evokes a profound feeling of déjà vu. Thirty-one years ago, I met Gurney just after graduating college and beginning a summer job at the Playhouse, when Westport produced 11 shows in 11 weeks. Gurney was a frequent guest during that time, when the theatre also produced his play The Middle Ages.

I’ve seen Gurney, born Albert Ramsdell Gurney Jr. but known to all as Pete, in countless theatre lobbies since then, often near his Connecticut home—at Hartford Stage, where I was public relations director for eight years, during which time the theatre mounted Children and the premiere of The Snow Ball; at Long Wharf Theatre, where his Love Letters had its first sustained production and where I saw it performed by, most notably, Jessica Tandy and Hume Cronyn; and in New York City at the Flea Theater, at Primary Stages, at Lincoln Center.

Gurney, of course, is the enormously prolific author of more than 40 plays, including The Dining Room, The Cocktail HourThe Perfect Party, and Sylvia, which is being revived this month on Broadway. Our meeting in the Westport garden was on the occasion of an “invited performance” of his newest play, Love and Money, which would officially premiere several weeks later at New York’s Signature Theatre.

Pete has let it be known that Love and Money might be his last play, as he turns 85 next month, but he’s been dropping not-so-subtle hints about retiring for at least four years.

We spoke again in his Manhattan apartment a few days later. He’d moved there just a week before, downsizing from his longtime prior home a block away. As in Michael Yeargan’s set for Love and Money, there were packing boxes here and there, a sign of transition in any life—in the play, a home being closed up, but here a new home just beginning to be filled.

HOWARD SHERMAN: So, Pete, is Love and Money really going to be your last play?
A.R. GURNEY: Well, you know, you can’t predict your own psyche to that degree. Playwriting is such a habit with me now. I’ve written an awful lot of plays. You can’t tell what ideas will suddenly strike you.

Jim Houghton [Signature’s artistic director] said, “We want to revive two of your older plays,” and he named the two that I thought would work, and added, ‘We want you to provide a new play at the end.” And I said “A new play? Jim, I’m 84 years old, I don’t think I can whomp up one,” but I did, and it turned out to be a particularly rewarding experience.

What was so rewarding?
I found myself reverting to habits that I really hadn’t done in quite a while. I wrote plays, I’d occasionally change a line or two, but I knew just what I was doing. This one I didn’t know quite what I was doing, and as the play developed, I changed the nature of it. We added characters—I felt like a kid starting out again, and thank God for [Westport artistic director] Mark Lamos’s tolerance of me, and thank God we still have time at Westport where we can fool with it a little bit.

I noticed a lot of references in Love and Money, both explicit and subtle, to other plays of yours. Does it help if an audience knows your other work?
I found I was footnoting myself as I went along. If the audience wants to make those connections, I’m delighted, but I hope the play isn’t dependent on it. I’m trying to think of other examples in drama and elsewhere where writers have done that, alluded to themselves. Faulkner does it, but I’m no Faulkner.

In 1982, when The Dining Room became your most widely produced play to date, you were already over 50, but you’d been writing since the 1960s. In that sense, you’d been an emerging playwright for an awfully long time.
The Dining Room was an experience full of luck. There just happened to be a slot open in the 60-seat upstairs theatre at Playwrights Horizons, and I had just happened to meet David Trainer, who was looking for something to direct. The play was successful artistically and we managed, with luck, to get some excellent actors in it.

But then there was much more luck involved. The downstairs theatre at Playwrights Horizons opened up. I said to André [Bishop, then-artistic director of the company], “I just don’t think we can move downstairs, 120 seats—I don’t think we can do it.” But one thing led to another. Roger Stevens happened to see it and wanted to put it on at the Kennedy Center, so there was luck in availability of space, and coincidence in availability of actors.

It wasn’t a play that just knocked everyone off their feet—some people didn’t like it at all. If you look at the original review of The Dining Room, it was way in the back of the Times. If that was a breakthrough, it was on rather unusual terms. On the other hand, I enjoyed the experience so much, of writing it, of doing it, and because it was beginning to make a little money, I decided I could leave teaching alone.

You taught literature at MIT, not a liberal arts college and certainly not an arts school. Besides an income, what did teaching give you?
In the end, I learned a lot. I was an English major at Williams College, and it was a very narrow major—I didn’t read around a lot. At MIT I was forced to read classical literature, philosophical argument, Pascal and Descartes, and I had to talk about it with extremely bright students.

So what was the appeal? Just the sense that I was learning a lot in the course of teaching, and performing a lot. As a teacher at MIT, your classes don’t pretend, and they’re eager to learn, or at least I felt they were. But you have to keep them interested. They’ve all been up to the wee hours of the morning doing their problem sets and experiments. You have to become a good theatrical teacher in order to survive.

In your work, you often take off from other literature—the Bible, the classics, Shakespeare. What’s the affinity?
In the first place, most of the stories, whether from the classics or from the Bible, were pretty good stories. What I didn’t realize was that these were at the heart of the traditional WASP culture, these things we had to learn in Sunday school, these plays we had to read at school. As I continued to write, I came to realize that I’m not just trying to swipe a plot that seemed important in the past, but that I’m really writing about Western culture as it was embraced by the WASP culture.

Maybe I was trying to hit common denominators. I felt in order to speak to another human, you have to put your arm around them and say, “We all agree on this story, we’ll agree on this plot, so let’s all work together.” The Golden Fleece really dealt with suburban culture, and what was going on was that men and women were waking up to their responsibilities as parents and their dreams of being more than just parents.

While you were tagged as the great chronicler of WASP culture, you weren’t necessarily celebrating it. You were writing about its downfall and perhaps not regretting that.
Even at the end of Love and Money, I celebrate aspects of WASP culture that I hate to see go—but yes, that’s why my parents really didn’t like what I was doing. They felt I was just poking fun at things they took very seriously. I’d always been the wise guy in the family. I’d always been the outsider making wisecracks at the dinner table, and I found I could do that better on the stage. I didn’t realize to what degree the WASP culture was bankrupt, and I think it is—culturally bankrupt, not financially bankrupt—until really the past three, four, five years. I was just trying to write about what it was and how silly it was in some ways, and one thing led to another.

There are characters in your plays who seem like they might be you—a young man or grown man from Buffalo, N.Y. Were you ever writing veiled autobiography?
I was not absolutely hamstrung by trying to repeat history, but I was aware of some of the characters, such as in Indian Blood or the son in The Cocktail Hour, being like me.

There was a wonderful production of The Cocktail Hour at the Huntington—the character of the young man in that was played by James Waterston, a wonderful actor—and for some reason the play became his story, more than the mother’s or the father’s, maybe because the actors were generous enough to give it to him. His story was extremely moving to me. My son saw the opening and said, “Don’t go near it, Dad, they don’t know what they’re doing.” I went down and saw it anyway and thought they knew exactly what they were doing.

So many of your plays are set in Buffalo. Is it the real Buffalo, or the Buffalo of your mind?
It was my home, although it’s like Dante’s Florence. Dante wrote the Divine Comedy not while living in Florence—he was banished from Florence—but he grew up there, and it was at the heart of his thinking, and he used it as a way of saying very general things about the world. Well, Buffalo, for many reasons, was very influential in my life. My parents, my grandparents, in some cases my great- grandparents, were born there. My great- great-grandfather was one of the first mayors of Buffalo. My wife comes from Buffalo and her family comes from there. So there’s a tribal pressure there, and the story of Buffalo as it changed from an aggressive, vibrant town to a town which is trying to decide what it’s going to be and do next is a general story.

You have worked often with a relatively small core of directors: Daniel Sullivan, Jack O’Brien, Joey Tillinger, Mark Lamos, Jim Simpson, David Saint, and David Trainer. Is there a benefit to that?
We knew each other so well that we could talk easily with one another. But I’ve had very good experiences with other directors. Lila Neugebauer, who directed [Signature’s] Wayside Motor Inn, which had been a real loser of a play—she just brought it to life. I worked with Kim Rubenstein on The Cocktail Hour at Long Wharf, and she was terrific, but she had a very different slant. So I don’t think it’s always important that you work with someone who’s in the same world that you are or who knows what your work should be like. I think Arthur Miller would say the same thing.

What did you think of Jim Simpson’s deconstruction of What I Did Last Summer this past spring at Signature?
When Jim decided to have a drummer onstage and when Michael Yeargan said, “We just want rear-screen projection on paper, the paper of the script,” I said, “Oh, God, that’s not what I had in mind at all.” But I didn’t say, “Knock it off.” I went to a rehearsal and looked at it and thought, “It’s sort of interesting. I’m sort of taken up by this.”

I hope I’m not so old that I can’t respond to change if somebody else wants to do it. But I can’t suddenly change the way a play should be done. That’s the director’s job. And if there’s any kind of argument in its favor, the director has to make it and I’ll try to go along with it.

Take Mark Lamos’s recent production of The Dining Room [at Westport]. When I first saw a rehearsal I said, “It’s a terrific cast, Mark, but it’s not the way I envision it. The dining room table and the scenery is all powder blue. What’s going on? I assume it’s just a rehearsal table.” And he said, “No. What you see is what you get.” Under lights, the way people entered and exited without giving a hint of what the world outside is like, it all worked beautifully. I never would have thought of it myself. But I hope I’m smart enough to know that there are many ways to skin a cat.

Sylvia is only your fourth play to reach Broadway, but your plays have had such success in smaller venues. Was Broadway ever something you wanted?
I’ve never had much luck on Broadway. Lord knows I’d be a fool if I didn’t want to have a play on Broadway. But with Sweet Sue, for example, without Mary Tyler Moore and Lynn Redgrave selling the tickets, it would have closed after a week.

I do think my subjects are not necessarily what Broadway has traditionally been interested in. The pressures of adjusting the script, as we had to with Sweet Sue and again with The Golden Age, which lasted I think two weeks, it just hasn’t appealed to me.

I have to feel compatible and congenial with the audience. I have to feel that these people are people like me, who have some of the same concerns and interests and that’s why they’re at the theatre. As I look around at a Broadway audience, and I hope this changes in Sylvia, I don’t see that many people of whom I can say, “Oh, I’m glad that person is here, I hope I can speak to him or her.”

Though we’ve talked about Jim Simpson, we haven’t talked about your work at the Flea, which has done eight of your plays, making you, as I’ve said before, the hottest 75-year-old Off-Off-Broadway playwright around. What’s the draw?
You know, a lot of people tease me because I’m always sure I’ve written my last play.

I got a call from Swoosie Kurtz, who was performing in The Guys, and she said, “You’ve got to get down here, it’s a terrific play and the whole Flea Theater situation is very interesting.”

And I liked the play very much, I liked Swoosie very much, and I liked Jim Simpson very much.

So I found myself surrounded by younger people, theatres that were available all around me. A lot was happening politically in our country, mostly bad, and I found myself wanting to write with and for these young actors. It was a very refreshing experience for me.

And before too long, I’ll have another play there.

This interview originally appeared in American Theatre magazine.

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