In an interview, the directors of two different productions -- Matt Pfeiffer at Theatre Horizon and Damon Bonetti at Hedgerow Theatre -- provide a look at the challenges of directing this fast-paced piece in which, by stripping the cast down to four actors, the melodrama takes a turn for the comic. The play is based on the thriller by Alfred Hitchcock (1935), which was adapted from the novel by John Buchan (1915). Simon Corble and Nobby Dimon originally adapted Hitchcock's version as a four-actor stage production in 1995. Patrick Barlow's rewrite of the Corble-Dimon adaptation, first performed in 2005, served as the basis for the two local productions.

HE: What were your overarching goals for your production of The 39 Steps?

Matt Pfeiffer: I wanted it to be a valentine to live theater and a celebration of movies. I love cinema. I love noir. Film puts us in those exciting places easily, and I loved the idea of capturing that energy using stage language.

Damon Bonetti: I wanted an entertaining, exciting, and funny show, paying attention to detail and clarity with what we were trying to achieve, moment to moment, in both the acting and the technical aspects of this seemingly simple, but deceptively complicated show.

HE: Matt, could you tell us a bit more about your use of “stage language”?

Pfeiffer: Stage language for me would be physical creation in space and invention outside of technology. A log on a chair with an actor warming his hands is the fire, whereas in film, you’d just film a fire.

HE: Damon, what makes this play “deceptively complicated”?

Bonetti: You look at the stage. There’s just a couple of ladders and boxes, but in reality the tech involved in the show can be massive: a whole machinery made up of props, lighting, sound, and the important but invisible theater staff members who work behind the scenes.

Comedy is hard — timing is of the essence, among the actors and among the tech, and between the actors and the tech. Without perfect timing and teamwork, 39 Steps could not exist.

HE: What did you try to avoid under all circumstances?

Bonetti: Unintended sloppiness and heavy-handedness. When rehearsing a show like this, you come up with a hundred comic moments, but you can’t have them all. I select those that work, the ones that are consistently funny and inventive. The cheap joke has its place in a play like this, but only so many times.

A genuine comic moment occurs in the play when Hannay sees Pamela again. The lights change, the "Pamela theme" plays, and then all goes back to normal when she disappears — leaving Hannay speechless for a moment.

When the Psycho knife appears in the Professor-Hannay fight, the audience experiences another comic moment. Even though it’s a cheap joke, it's another Hitchcock reference, and we get it.

Pfeiffer: I tried to resist the urge to answer problems with conventional staging solutions. For example, we could've used a bed, a fireplace, or steering wheel for the car. But instead, I really wanted all of the objects to come from what was available. It was in for a penny, in for a pound. Once you make the train out of boxes, you need to stay true to that aesthetic. For example, Hannay and Pamela get stuck on a stile. We could’ve just built a stile or fence-type set piece. Instead, we kept with the spirit of invention and made it out of two ladders and a stick.

HE: What were your greatest challenges in directing this play, given that it's based on a famous film?

Bonetti: I'm surprised that I'd say over half the audience has never seen this movie. As an actor in the Horizon production, I felt the ghost of Robert Donat looming, but you have to let that go and realize that, although the plot is basically the same, the tone is completely different — still in the spirit of Hitchcock, but more with the flavor of farce. If anything, I tried to find more ways to fit Hitchcock into the show.

We added the Bates Motel to the shadow sequence, a pair of scissors (Dial M for Murder) in another place, and music from Torn Curtain, Saboteur, and North by Northwest.

Pfeiffer: Keeping the momentum going forward. It's a hard pace to maintain when you don't have a camera to cut to someplace else. Creating an environment of controlled chaos and a breakneck speed is a challenge. Music and lights were essential. Getting the timing of all of that just right was difficult.

The choreography came out of trial and error. You figure out the pace of a scene and experiment to see which would be the clearer or funnier version of the physical action. There were three stagehands, who were essential to executing the show.

HE: Looking back at the first few plays that you directed in your career, how would you evaluate your work on The 39 Steps?

Pfeiffer: I am an actors’ director. Early on I was mostly concerned with performances. I worried less about the visual tone of a production or the overall aesthetic choices. 39 Steps requires a sense of visual rhythm and timing. It's only after years of working that my sense of those choices has become intuitive. 39 Steps tested that intuition severely. It was good to discover I could handle it.

Bonetti: 39 Steps is an anomaly for me. Having just acted in it, I was influenced by that previous production. Matt Pfeiffer is a great director. At the Hedgerow Theatre, we rented a lot of the same set pieces, and hired the same costume designer, Janus Stefanowicz.

I think I created a good balance between giving actors what they need to succeed, while I, as a director, stayed aware throughout the process and provided hands-on guidance in the important technical aspects of the show.

HE: Could you give us some examples of the “good balance” which you created?

Bonetti: I made sure to create a space where the actors were allowed to experiment with their own visions of the roles without being too influenced by the great work of Genevieve Perrier, Adam Altman, and Steve Pacek, who played in the recent Theatre Horizon production. Different actors, different production.

But still, the knowledge of where the tricky moments in the script are guided me through harder moments. For example, for the train sequence we wanted to create a sense of movement, excitement, and danger with the tech. I therefore had a lot of input for Jared Reed [lights] and Stefan Arnarson [sound] on what the show needed.

HE: Damon, looking back at your many years of acting and directing, how do you see your development as a director?

Bonetti: What has helped me the most as a director is being a professor — I teach at Drexel, Rutgers-Camden, and occasionally Rowan. Going back to the basics of action-oriented, moment-to-moment work has helped me to understand how to collaborate with actors and how to "put on a play."

I'm also a musician. Sound is important to me, not just the music, but the musicality of a piece of drama — the rhythm that makes a play come alive. I even dabbled in photography, setting up the shot, the picture you want to capture.

HE: Matt, after these many years of acting and directing, how did you develop that extra sense of “intuition” in 39 Steps?

Pfeiffer: Trial and error. As an actor performing comedy over the course of a production, you see how the audience reacts to jokes. You learn timing. As a director, it was about seeing if the internal process I discovered as an actor was translatable. It was my outside eye which allowed me to develop an even sharper understanding of how physical choices, the use of space, and the timing of technical aspects, all contributed to the storytelling.

HE: Thank you both for having taken many more than 39 steps in directing two memorable shows. If only Mr. Hitchcock could have seen your creative interpretations.

Photo: Joel Guerrero, Rebecca Cureton, and Andrew Parcell pay homage to Hitchcock’s "The Birds" in this scene from "The 39 Steps" at the Hedgerow Theatre. (Photo: Ashley LaBonde with Wide Eyed Studios)


Originally published by the Broad Street Review, July 29, 2014.

Each show features a variety of special guests, including multi-talented actor JP Dunphy, comedian Tony Braithwaite, Broadway's Jennifer Hope Wills, Philadelphia favorite Fran Prisco, and many others.

One of the primary motivations for the creation of this event was to help establish and grow a connection between An Evening at the Cape May Summer Club and the Cape May community at large.

With that in mind, the organizers of this event established a scholarship to be awarded to students from the Lower Cape May Regional school district who are currently involved in the live arts—theatre, music, dance—and who aspire to pursue their craft professionally.

In this interview, Coon gives a moving account of what teachers in New Jersey did for his life. Based on 20 years of professional work, Coon then addresses parents and young people and shares things that very few people dare to address—all in practical and caring ways.

Tell us as much as you remember about your experiences as a child and adolescent in Cape May and your first forays into the theatre, music, and dance world.

JC: My first theatrical experiences in Cape May were in junior high school at Teitelman. I had done some revues before that, when my family lived in Florida for a few years, but my first official play was that chestnut Headin' for a Weddin'. My friend Sharon Buehler and I played a mute hillbilly brother and sister who stayed under the family bed for most of the play. It was an auspicious beginning.

I did play the viola at that time, but Nan LaCorte, the Teitelman band director, encouraged me to try the trombone instead, which I played until my senior year in high school and at various times after that—especially in the Arden Theatre's production of Assassins a few years ago.

During my freshman year in high school at Lower Cape May Regional, I got my first taste of musical theatre. They were doing The Music Man and needed boys. I had never sung before, and didn't even think I knew how. So, I auditioned and was cast as one of the salesmen and townspeople. It was really the beginning of my descent into musical theatre madness. :)

Could you portray those teachers who impacted your life as a theatre artist the most? What exactly did they do and say that encouraged you to explore new worlds?

JC: There were several of them and they all have had a lasting effect on me. The first was Sandy Beane-Fox. She was the closest I've had to a mentor in my life. She shepherded me into finding my singing voice. She was our choir teacher, the vocal director for all the musicals, and the teacher in charge of the yearbook committee. I spent A LOT of time with her and, to this day, I say any good habits I still have when singing are directly attributable to her—anything bad is something I've picked up along the way.

Paul Mathis was the second. He directed all of the musicals and plays. He was the first teacher who cursed in front of students. He introduced us to Mel Brooks, Thoreau, Monty Python, and Gilbert and Sullivan. He made us feel like we weren't just kids, but collaborators with him. He encouraged us to "take risks" and "be in the moment." He helped provide a safe place for all of the theatre kids who just wanted to be in shows and "play" together.

He passed away last year. There was a large concert held to celebrate his life. It was well attended and many people came from far away to be a part of it. It's a testament to how much he touched the lives of many individuals.

Ed Jurewicz was my band director in high school. He was, and is, an absolutely brilliant man and musician. He challenged me to work harder and practice more. He introduced us to Miles Davis, Benny Goodman, Woody Herman, and this wild and weird Jersey TV show called The Uncle Floyd Show. He cared about the music as much as he cared about the kids. He instilled a sense of admiration and appreciation for great music in me.

Stina Smith was our choreographer for all the shows. She wasn't a teacher at the school, but she taught me how to do a barrel roll and a flea hop. She also told me that I could dance if I just tried harder. I'm not sure she was right about that, but she made me believe it and that, in and of itself, is no mean feat.

Finally, Lynn Massimiano did all the costumes and make up for our shows. She also sold ads for the programs. She did anything and everything to make these shows at school a success. She has been as invaluable in that same way to the shows we're producing in Cape May. She was the first teacher that I was ever able to see as a "real person" outside of school. Even before Sandy Beane Fox, Lynn helped me realize that as much as I admired all of these teachers, they were still just regular people working their asses off to make us kids look good and have a great time.

Have you stayed in touch with some of your former teachers in Cape May? And what have been their responses to your phenomenal rise to the top in the Philadelphia theatre and music scene?

JC: You bet. I have stayed in touch with all of them. They arranged whole bus trips to see my shows in Philly. I've even had beers with all of them at one time or another. They are a remarkably supportive group of people to whom I'm incredibly grateful. That support has been extended for over 20 years now. And truly, I wouldn't go all out in producing these concerts if it weren't partially due to their artistic, moral, and sometimes even hands-on support.

What would you say to young people in Cape May, especially those who would like to follow in your footsteps—from Cape May to starring in one of America's largest theatre cities.

JC: Work hard and play nice. Work as much as you can, whenever you can, and be nice to EVERYONE you work with, even when you might not want to be. There are too many people in this business who are talented. The ones you remember and want to work with, time and time again, are the ones who show up prepared, ready to work, and who don't make a ton of waves.

That doesn't mean don't speak up for yourself. Rather, it means speak up for yourself in a way that respects both yourself and the rest of the people you're working with. Nobody wants to be around a jerk. So be nice to each other, and support other artists! A rising tide lifts all ships, so don't spend so much time just trying to get yourself ahead.

Lend a hand when you can. Go see other shows or work—it's educational and important.

Standing on stage, performing, and basking in applause from the audience can be a great experience, but there are also problematic aspects for practically all theatre artists who have to hunt down new jobs all year 'round. What would you say to young people to help them prepare themselves for the many rejections they most likely will experience, without letting any negativity distract them from their artistic and professional life goals?

JC: Play a game with yourself: In a given time period, set a goal for the number of jobs you DON'T get. Look for the No in your life and embrace it. That process forces you to take the power out of that little word we hear so often in this business and make it something you look for.

For example, set a goal that says you have to get 30 NOs over the course of a month of auditioning. This method FORCES you to go to more auditions. You'll increase your NOs, but you'll also increase your chances of getting cast, which obviously is the real goal. It also hones your auditioning skills and makes you inured to the negative a little bit more.

Also, try to remember that just because you get a NO doesn't mean you're no good. It means that there are many factors involved in getting a job and, this time, it just didn't work out. Keep auditioning. Keep working when you can, and keep your chin up.

Could you address the parents of young people in Cape May and invite them to the upcoming series in one of America's oldest vacation resorts? When they see a most professional and entertaining show in one of New Jersey's most charming cities, they could then see what their children could do one day—not only making them proud, but delighting audiences all over the country.

JC: Twenty-five years ago, I was some version of your kid. I was figuring out who and what I was and wanted to be. I had some great teachers who pointed me in directions that I didn't necessarily expect, but enjoyed anyway. I worked hard.

I have established a career in the arts which ain't always easy, but I didn't do it on my own. I did it with supportive communities of people who helped foster me and keep me moving forward and growing as an artist—even when it wasn't always easy. That's part of why we're establishing a scholarship through these concerts, because I want to be able to give a small token of my thanks to the community that helped foster me by doing the same thing for another kid interested in the arts.

Thank you, Jeff. I like what I'm hearing and would like to see your show. Is there any chance that I could also meet all those mentors of yours during intermission?

JC: Absolutely, but you're going to have to find them without my help because [he smiles] I'm going to be a little busy during intermission on Saturday night.

Originally published by the New Jersey Stage, July 25, 2014.

While we laughed non-stop, Brooklyn’s Colin Quinn took us into the heart of the American darkness with a verbal flashlight, illuminating the present. “The American Constitution,” according to the book of Quinn, “it’s four pages long. No one has that kind of time.”

Let me say it up front: Unconstitutional, running through July 6th at the Philadelphia Theatre Company, is a tour de force stronger than the Tour de France.

The famous Quinn, familiar to Saturday Night Live fans, presents his observations on the quirks of life in the U.S. at such a neck-breaking pace that I thought I was participating as a bidder at an auction, where the auctioneer speaks at world record speed so that I, as one of his “bidders,” was unsure at times if I was buying or not. So as not to miss his many powerful insights, wrapped in highly addictive humor, I was forced to listen carefully. And listen I did.

The next day, the comedian who has entertained millions, gluing together historical events and the foibles of human beings, then and now, answered my questions—well, most of them.

Henrik Eger: Colin, how have your perceptions of the U.S. evolved as you studied American history in creating Unconstitutional? 

Colin Quinn: My studies and view of America have changed. One of the frustrations that I have is that we’ve almost thrown the baby out with the bathwater. In righting a lot of wrongs, we also dismiss any of the positive aspects of the earlier times. 

For example, the 1950s, today, are characterized by their hypocrisy, banality, and conformity, but there were also standards, discipline, and common sense that were lost along with the rigidity.

HE: Where did you find the many details about the founding fathers for your historical show, especially as James Madison had destroyed most references to his personal life?

CQ: I didn’t find that many facts about Madison that were outside of the books written about him. I looked at quotes, and just imagined the mindset of a man who’s shorter than everyone else, who grew up rich, but was never “one of the guys.” And then I just arrogantly profiled him, based on the info I had. 

HE: It seemed that the words were coming out of your mind faster than your throat and mouth could deliver them. Is it possible that new thoughts and jokes hit you in the middle of a performance, creating new improvisational comedy?

CQ: Sometimes new thoughts or jokes hit all comics during the show, and when they happen, it’s the happiest time for us.

HE: Given that you’re addressing a wide-ranging audience—different ages, educational backgrounds, income, ideologies, etc.—how do you make your show relevant so that both sides of the aisle are laughing in unison?

CQ: I don’t care about both sides of the aisle. It’s just my personality to feel like there’s got to be hypocrisy on any side and in every person, myself included.

HE: Your show was directed by Rebecca A. Trent, described as a “one-person comedy industry.” Could you tell us about that process of working together and compare it to your work when Jerry Seinfeld directed you in the popular Colin Quinn Long Story Short? 

CQ: Rebecca’s knowledge of comedy and love of comics had a big influence when we worked together. And she’s also a Virginia girl who has her own feelings on the Constitution and America. She’s funny and brings humor to the process. 

Jerry is a master, of course. He’s got the eye for the joke like few people do. He’s also a great editor. He would jump up on stage and show me how he thought it would look. It was pretty charming to see the legend up there acting out a piece. He’s an amazing friend, too.

HE: In your one-man show, Colin Quinn Long Story Short, you channeled the demise of various world empires. In Unconstitutional you skewered the contradictions in the history and the life of America. Pray, what’s next in your creative life? 

CQ: I’m working on the great forbidden: Ethnicity and ethnic humor.

HE: We’ve seen you as a high-energy, intelligent, and sharp-witted comedian. How do you, as a mensch, strike a balance in your personal life?

CQ: I don’t. My personal life has always been banal, yet disastrous.

HE: You seem to be as tough with yourself as you are with the founding fathers and their arrogant and foolish great grandchildren today. 

With all of your hard-hitting criticism of the foibles, the ignorance, and the cruelty in this society, we saw in Unconstitutional a deeply committed American artist. Mark Twain would be damn proud of you, Colin Quinn.


Originally published by Phindie, Philadelphia, July 2, 2014.

I sat in a front row seat at the Suzanne Roberts Theatre on a journey into the greedy heart of the unconstitutional United States, written and performed by Colin Quinn of Saturday Night Live(SNL) fame, and quite a few national TV shows of his own, like Colin Quinn: Long Story Short (directed by Jerry Seinfeld) and the popular Tough Crowd with Colin Quinn.

Unconstitutional exposed the audience to Quinn’s hard-hitting bullets and made us laugh nonstop and think for split seconds — each time one of his many entertaining verbal grenades exploded:

“The Constitution? It's the document that the drunker you get, the more you understand it," Quinn quipped, and then continued with a straight face: "It's impressive that we talk about it, because nobody's read the whole thing."

Quinn, who can steamroll the founding fathers — most of them slave-owners — without batting an eyelid, also goes on the barricades in our own times when he castigates racial discrimination in the US with great power and clarity, so much so that an African-American friend of mine and I both felt like standing up and saluting the comedian turned statesman.

Quinn did not mince words, and with his Irish-American Brooklyn swagger, showed another side of the true strength of a country that wants to right old wrongs.

Sometimes, however, I wasn’t quite sure which way the unconstitutional wind was blowing. Trying to learn more about the creator of this show, I asked him a number of questions.

Could you tell us when and where your curiosity in history began?

My father used to read to me those classic comics that they had back as a kid, with all the knights and the Roman legions. And I loved it.

You seem to have a love-hate relationship with both America and Americans. How did you manage to create a show which hits us over the head, and at the same time, makes us think and feel good?

I think it's because that's how I feel every day. Mood swings and mixed feelings about life and America — and everything else. The way most of us live. Gray area stuff.

Writing a play with a straight-forward chronology is one thing, but you are holding up a mirror to America in form of a kaleidoscope with constantly moving historical events, colored by the vagaries of the past and its impact on our present time. How did you go about writing this complex piece?

I wrote this show by starting with the [U.S.] Constitution and then trying to figure out what was funny about the founding fathers as human beings. And, if in fact, their document had an effect on our national psychology, which I think it did.

You are famous for, among other things, doing great work on Saturday Night Live. How much did your experiences in that environment shape the writing of Unconstitutional?

Saturday Night Live was just a constant state of trying to write for that week’s news. To this day, that's how it is. You all compete to write the best take of that week’s news story.  SNL shapes a lot of things about me and everyone who's been there. As a habit, it makes you pay attention to the news and translate what's funny about it.

Is Unconstitutional a combination of a stand-up comedy show with most parts written and learned by heart, but other parts added at the spur of the moment, varying each night?

Yes, my show is written, but there's always room for some improv, or more importantly, an addition that's permanent. For example, describing Bush tonight, I improvised, "Whether it was by design or accident, his fault or just fate, everything he touched, broke" — which seems like an accurate summation of his time in office.

Your show was directed by Rebecca A. Trent, described as a “one-person comedy industry.” Could you tell us about that process of working together and compare it to your work when Jerry Seinfeld directed you in Colin Quinn: Long Story Short?

Rebecca's knowledge of comedy and love of comics had a big influence when we worked together. And she's also a Virginia girl who has her own feelings on the Constitution and America. She's funny and brings humor to the process.

Jerry is a master, of course. He's got the eye for the joke like few people do. He's also a great editor. He would jump up on stage and show me how he thought it would look. It was pretty charming to see the legend up there acting out a piece. He’s an amazing friend, too.

You were very clear on issues like ignorance and racism in the U.S. However, there were moments where I wasn’t quite sure whether you were supporting something or not. For example, were you advocating abolishing guns, or were you presenting a Quinn-ean alternative as mysterious as the answers that came from the Oracle of Delphi?

Well, I don't support or not support guns. I support us sitting down in a Constitutional convention environment and discussing things every couple of years, that's all.

Well, you’ve come to the right city for such a Constitutional convention. In Colin Quinn: Long Story Short, you channeled the demise of various world empires. In Unconstitutional, you skewered the contradictions in the history and the life of America. What’s next in your creative life? 

I'm working on the great forbidden: ethnicity and ethnic humor.

At the end of his amazing show, against the backdrop of the overpowering American flag and an almost gratuitous, elegant table and chair, symbolic of the founding of the United States in Philadelphia, Quinn bowed to the audience and ended the show with just one word, which brought tears to many eyes: “Philadelphia!”


Originally published by the Broad Street Review, Philadelphia, June 25, 2014.

The world premiere of THE MOST SPECTACULARLY LAMENTABLE TRIAL OF MIZ MARTHA WASHINGTON hit Philadelphia with full force. The play by Barrymore award-winner James Ijames certainly is filled with humor and hilarity, but each utterance almost always freezes one’s laughter mid-stream when the playfulness turns into eruptions of anger and violence, leading viewers into unexplored territory.

“You will be broken and put back together again,” as one theatregoer commented on Facebook.

Given the explosive nature of this extraordinary play, I thought it important to talk to the playwright directly.

Henrik Eger: The theatre critics in Philadelphia have written great reviews of your play, as have a lot of theatregoers who left messages on Facebook. Quite often, critics get a bad rap for not doing justice to a play and a production. What did you think of the various reviews that have come in?

James Ijames: This is a complicated question, I think. I have loved the reviews for this show and have felt very moved by the outpouring of support on Facebook. I’m excited that the heart of what I wanted to do with the play is shining through and that the reviews, in addition to celebrating the production, also acknowledge the writing.

HE: Did you ever experience racial stereotyping or discrimination in your own life? Or would you say that your play was perhaps impacted more by a collective feeling of having to stand up to and voice the terrible wrongs of the past?

JI: I do feel a sense of rebellion in my work. Fundamentally, I wanted to say something about America’s neglect of addressing or even acknowledging its ongoing race problem.

Personally, I move through life as a black man without really considering how that affects anyone else. If someone sees me as “just a black guy,” I’m not really aware of it, because my self-image is larger than that.

My relationship to blatant racism in the way that my mother or grandmother may have experienced it is different. It’s more subtle. It’s battling privilege and assumptions more than white sheets and police dogs. I deal with the smaller micro aggressions, which are a different kind of violence, but are violent nonetheless.

HE: In The Whipping Man at The Arden Theatre, you played one of two slaves in Virginia, debating how to handle the Jewish plantation owner who fought the North, and was now so badly crippled that he could not have survived without his slaves.

Did that play by Matthew Lopez inspire you to write about Martha Washington, who relies for her survival on the goodness of the captives on her estate?

JI: The Whipping Man is about survival and transition. It takes place after slavery has ended, though recently, and John and Simon are exploring their newfound emancipation. My play is about slaves acquiring agency while still in slavery, which is a story we don’t typically hear. I’m not sure I thought much about The Whipping Man while writing this play.

HE: You thanked many of your professional supporters publicly for their help and advice in a most charming way: “I want to show some love to the midwives of this play. It could not have happened without them.” What input on your play did you receive from these theatre professionals who became friends and supporters of your work?

JI: Paul Meshejian is a miracle. What he does with PlayPenn is so important to the American theatre. His taste is impeccable, and he has created a development format that really allows a play and a playwright to grow. I can’t thank him enough for including my play in the festival last summer.

He also gave me the gift of having Dr. Michele Volansky dramaturg my play. She is an amazing dramaturg and knows how to make a play better and stronger. She knows the right questions to ask a playwright to ignite inspiration. Sometimes she would say only a few words to me that would result in entirely new scenes.

Niegel Smith helped me find the style of the play and make it more theatrical. The title of the play is in large part from my collaboration with Niegel. He is great at making the work more dangerous, pushing me to think in terms of emotion and scale colliding. Big emotions require a large scale of text, longer thoughts, and more poetic thoughts. He taught me that. He also helped me find my voice. I am forever in his debt.

I was also given an amazing cast, some of whom are in the current production (Melanye Finnister, Steven Wright, and Taysha Canales). They understood the process of play development and went with whatever I threw at them.

HE: Your script shows the most detailed stage directions I have ever seen in any script. Some of them even look like mini poems in the making; others show detailed accounts of the inner workings of the characters—not just physical actions. Example:

“ . . . She becomes possessed. The ritual of bringing her into the fold has worked. She dances with abandon! She is free. She focuses on the movements. Gives in to the sounds. The song. Sings along . . .”

How much freedom do your detailed stage directions actually give a director? How did that collaboration work?

JI: My stage directions are only meant to suggest a mood or a feeling of a scene. I want every director who approaches the play to find their own take on the play.

I love [director] Ed Sobel like a father. He is very much someone who has invested in me as an actor and a playwright. I trust him completely. Ed would call and ask me what I thought about something he was going to try and I would say “Go for it.”

I was not in rehearsal very much in the process so I really had to trust Ed’s choices, which was easy, because he knows how to work on new plays. He’s developed and directed dozens of new plays. A lot of this collaboration was simply allowing Ed to take the wheel.

HE: Is this the final version of your play, or are you tempted to develop the script further?

JI: The play has changed on my computer even from what is being performed now on stage. I think plays are always evolving. We cut Shakespeare. We adapt Chekhov. In my opinion, the play is never completely frozen.

HE: What are your hopes for audiences attending this production?

JI: I want the audience to have a great time, but I also want them to walk away thinking and talking. I want them to be energized to make some change in their lives and in their society. I hope that the play still entertains, but my main focus is not to make people feel good, but to make them think.

HE: I was in awe of the cast, from the extraordinary Nancy Boykin as Martha Washington to the slaves, who morphed back and forth into different personas, human beings torn by allegiance and rebellion: Jaylene Clark Owens, Darryl Gene Daughtry, Jr, Aaron Bell, and the actors from the PlayPenn reading who also appeared in the world premiere.

The intriguing compositions by Daniel Perelstein connected the past with the present. Marie Anne Chiment greatly added to the visual impact of the play by transforming stage directions like these into fantastic outfits:

Sucky Boy enters dressed as a Southern Belle. Fancy and nostalgic. Enormous Antebellum hoop skirt large enough to encompass all of history. Very transparent drag.

Even now, I am haunted by one of the most symbolic parts of the play: the scenic and lighting design by Thom Weaver, director of the Flashpoint Theatre, who allowed us to see the dying slave owner and the rebellious slaves as large silhouettes in black and white, filling the screen—subtly illuminating a play that most likely will travel all over the U.S. and cast long shadows on the collective conscience of America.


Originally published by Phindie, Philadelphia, June 26, 2014.

I was hit hard by the The Most Spectacularly Lamentable Trial of Miz Martha Washington — Martha Washington as America has not seen her and her time. A dramatic mirror held right up to the face of America — warts, erasures, distortions, layers of truth, and all.

Others apparently felt the same way, so much so that BSR contributor Jim Rutter wrote in the Inquirer, “James Ijames has crafted a superbly written, emotionally compelling, and morally challenging play. How challenging? About halfway through his 80-minute one-act, I no longer wanted to review it.”

Neither did I. An interview with the playwright seemed the best way to come to terms with this extraordinary drama that will most likely still get performed a hundred years from now.

How did you come up with the subject matter of the dying Martha Washington, surrounded by her slaves, and being both nurtured and brutally confronted, all at the same time?

I was working on a research project called FRoNTiN and watched a documentary called Africans in America, with an entire segment about Martha and George and slavery. I was intrigued by the fact that she freed the slaves before her death, even though George put in his will that they should be freed upon Martha’s death.

Martha Washington seemed a nice lady, albeit the wife of America’s most prominent slave owner at the time. What made you focus specifically on her and put her through nightmarish experiences?

After more research, I found some correspondence between Abigail Adams and a woman named Mary Cranch in which they discussed Martha’s fear that the slaves were going to kill her in order to be freed. I thought this scenario was comedy waiting to happen, and it turns out I was right.

I chose Martha Washington because of her decision to free the slaves and because she thought they might kill her. That seemed like a great entry point to explore slavery.

Also, Martha is a major figurehead in American history, and I’m interested in deconstructing the American mythos in my plays, so she seemed a perfect person to explore.

What did you, as the playwright, experience intellectually and emotionally within yourself when you created these remarkable characters, who are riding on an emotional and verbal seesaw, vacillating between humorous banter and sadistic outrage, even physical threats directed against the dying Martha Washington?

I’m pushing the theatricality and the “violence,” both in the language and what the play asked the actors to do, in order to keep the audience and also the performance off balance.

This play is not “well made” in the way A Raisin in the Sun is. However, I think both plays drop into hot-button issues through character action and language. I’m trying to generate an emotional experience for the audience that will affect change in them — and not simply pity or guilt.

The verbal violence in the play reminds me of Amiri Baraka, aka LeRoi Jones. How much were you influenced by his work?        

I’m attracted to the hyper-theatrical and theater that is political in a violent way, as well as in a humorous way.

I have certainly read Baraka, and he is totally a part of my artistic heritage. However, I don’t think there is a direct line between his work and mine. I am much more influenced by James Baldwin’s writing and rhetoric. I’m also very influenced by Suzan-Lori Parks, Paula Vogel, Branden Jacobs-Jenkins, Jackie Sibblies Drury, and Rachel Bonds in terms of playwriting.

You worked with playwright and Yale professor Paula Vogel. What was it about her approach that impacted your writing the most?

I was one of several writers in Philadelphia who took a boot camp taught by Paula and offered by the Philadelphia Young Playwrights. This boot camp was really the beginning of me finding my voice and pushing my self as a writer.    

Could you describe the writing and rewriting process of your play, both as an individual writer, but also as a member of a collaborative team?

Initially, I just wrote the play I wanted to see. I let the play be messy, unclear, and poorly structured — just to get all of the heart and blood on the page.

Then, I did “in-house” readings with friends, just so that I could hear the play. I would listen and then go and rewrite from there. I think that’s the most fruitful way to rewrite.

Theater should be heard, not just read. I learned from the actors about what feels good in their mouths to speak. If an actor constantly had a hard time with a particular line or phrase, I often changed that line. The language should work with and for the actors, not against them.

Your play was first presented as a reading by a large cast which had people abuzz in Philadelphia for many months. Could you tell us more about that reading and its impact on the final version of the play, if, indeed, it is the final version?

I learned how to craft a play in a very specific and complete way. The major work that was done on the play duringPlayPenn was finding a “structure” that had the largest impact.

I made superficial cuts to the play after the reading to make things more clean and streamlined. I tried to focus the play to be less “entertaining” and to be more poignant and thoughtful.

You are quoted as saying that "Guilt is an empty emotion," and that you want change, "making the audience feel they're on the right side of history — until they're not.” Could you tell us more about that?

Guilt doesn’t make change. It allows you to fester and stew. I want the audience to be troubled by the play and then talk to people, maybe see where they are implicated in the state of race relations. We all think the work has been done, but there is more to be done.

Is there anything that you always wanted to do, but never gave yourself permission to create?

If I had the chance, and was young enough, I would love to study ballet and I would love to have learned to play the piano. In terms of what I would love to give myself permission to create, I create the thing I wish existed. That’s how I make things! I make the things I wish existed.

Originally published by the Broad Street Review, Philadelphia, June 25, 2014.

Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman it was not. The opening night audience for How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying — a wildly satirical musical and popular chestnut, performed at the Walnut Street Theatre — rooted for a little window washer. This male Cinderella wins the crown not with the help of a good fairy or a prince, but because of his wit, his charm, and his cunning way of manipulating people. We witnessed someone who won in the lottery of life, thanks to his innovative ways of deceiving others.

Even I, who considers the much-touted “American dream” an illusion, cheered on J. Pierrepont Finch, the lovable scoundrel, who managed to get a job in the mailroom of a large company and who moved all the way to the corporate top. I saw in him an American Everyman who firmly believes that every person who works hard can become a millionaire — except that the little Finch, from the very beginning, used one trick after another to win over backstabbing colleagues, conniving superiors, and insecure higher-ups in the hierarchy of the corporation.

On the way home, I asked myself why I would fall for this kind of a manipulative fairy tale. And then I remembered John Steinbeck’s sobering explanation for why socialism never really caught on in the United States: “The poor see themselves not as an exploited proletariat but as temporarily embarrassed millionaires.” And therein lies part of the secret of books and musicals like How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, especially during harsh economic times.

Auditions and director’s cut

The Walnut presented an entertaining show that also made one think. Casey Hushion’s direction hit hard with its many gentle, hilarious touches, and Michele Lynch’s choreography hit the floor and the audience with an energy that matched the story of the little window washer climbing the ladder of success.

I asked Hushion to share some of the secrets of successful casting: “In the audition process, we talked a lot about people who had the right chemistry and joy on stage, and a genuine love of musical comedy," she said. "You can’t fake that. That’s the intangible element that can make a production really lift off. We wanted people who could take a number like ‘Brotherhood’ and just make it explode with personality. We looked for eccentricity, too — actors with their own distinct looks and comic sensibilities so we could create our own quirky World Wide Wicket universe.”

Asked about how she coordinated these wildly talented cannonballs, Hushion revealed, “I had crazy looking notebooks full of little drawings that look like football plays about who could move what piece when. Luckily, Michele Lynch, the choreographer, and I are great friends. We have an awesome collaboration together, and we both adored this cast. They had incredible spirit, charm, humor, and positivity throughout the process. That made any challenge we faced surmountable."

Corporate servility, a choreographer’s cut

Michele Lynch’s finely tuned choreography brought out the sexism of the book by Abe Burrows, Jack Weinstock, and Willie Gilbert (based on the original best seller of the same name by Shepherd Mead), with lyrics and music by Frank Loesser.

Castigating the servility of employees who were expected to follow every command from above, Lynch literally had the dancers bend over, performing satirical-erotic rear-end movements. This wickedly creative absurdity made many of us laugh and become aware of how denigrating life in the corporate world can be, especially for women.

“On the surface, it's a man's world. However, the women in this show embody a subversive power: Rosemary, Hedy La Rue, Finch's mom, and Biggley's wife drive most of the decision making,” choreographer Lynch said, adding, “The glorious fashion of the time gave us great silhouettes for women.”

How to succeed with costumes, lights, scenic design, and music

Lisa Zinni’s zany costumes replicated the 1960s with her seductive outfits and over-the-top coiffures. The set design by Robert Andrew Kovach matched the intention of the musical perfectly, from the glass façade of a skyscraper and a hydraulic lift for the window washer all the way to the fancy, hilarious men’s room at a large corporation.

Paul Black’s lighting designs brought out intimate scenes with great effect, and Craig Beyrooti’s clear sound design made it unnecessary for anyone to borrow hearing aids. As in previous productions, the live orchestra, under award-winning music director Douglass G. Lutz, delivered a rich, top-rung quality sound.

Walnut cake productions: Great actors, great ensemble

Whoever discovered Jeremy Morse, the star of the show, hit a musical goldmine. Morse’s voice, his gestures, his charm, his agility, his split-second timing, and his impish good looks made him the finely carved figurehead on this corporate ship, bouncing up and down with the social waves.

The young hero who knows how to catch everyone’s attention and hook each higher-up into his net gets caught like an enthusiastic little goldfish by a lovelorn secretary (Becky Gulsvig), but he quickly learns to turn even these intimate circumstances into more dividends, yields, and rewards than he had ever imagined.

His enemy, the tall and snakelike Bud Frump, played by Brian Shepard with great conviction, looked like the descendant of the serpent in paradise. As a result of Frump’s double-tongued trickery, we liked the little Finch even more.

J. B. Biggley, the all-powerful company boss, looked and acted more presidential in parts than most corporate leaders. And his love interest, Hedy La Rue, a long-legged Barbie doll, played by Amy Bodnar, filled her role with erotic vigor, blending reality and fantasy that brought back the early days at Hugh Hefner’s Playboy Mansion in Chicago.

Two of Philadelphia’s singers with a heart and vocals that don’t need a microphone, Joilet Harris and Jeff Coon, added to the richness of the program, though I wanted to hear more of their stunning voices. As so often in Walnut cake productions, there are always cherries that have to wait for another musical torte.

What happens on Sunday, July 13, when the last curtain comes down for the little Finch, all the actors and dancers, even the director and choreographer, is another story. It’s almost always back to square one for everyone in the struggle toward success.

Originally published by the Broad Street Review, Philadelphia, June 20, 2014.