The Stage: Mourning playwright AR Gurney and the end of an Off-Broadway era

September 15th, 2017 § Comments Off on The Stage: Mourning playwright AR Gurney and the end of an Off-Broadway era § permalink

Andrew Keenan-Bolger and Carolyn McCormick in A.R. Gurney’s Family Furniture at the Flea Theater. (Photo by Joan Marcus)

Playwright AR Gurney would have found great irony in the fact that his life was commemorated at Broadway’s Music Box Theatre this week because, despite his success, Broadway was never much of a home to him.

Only four of his nearly 40 plays ever made it to the Great White Way, and the longest run was for his 1987 work Sweet Sue, which eked out six months including previews. Gurney attributed that entirely to the presence of Mary Tyler Moore and Lynn Redgrave in the four-strong cast.

The playwright, known to one and all as Pete for reason long lost to his family lore, had a career that flourished Off-Broadway and in regional theatres. When he died in June at the age of 86, there were the appropriate obituaries for such a successful and prolific man of the theatre. But there were few critical surveys of his career, or think pieces about what his plays had meant, like those that followed the deaths of Edward Albee and Sam Shepard.

Gurney’s work was never groundbreaking, but it resonated strongly with audiences of many ages, even though it was steeped in the lore of the white Anglo-Saxon Protestants who had dominated America for many years.

From the very start, Gurney was quietly, subtly rebelling against his genteel upbringing, simultaneously taking pleasure in the traditions that had surrounded him growing up while poking fun at them theatrically.

At Tuesday’s memorial, it was noted that his father took genuine displeasure at Gurney’s chosen career and the sentiments expressed in his plays. Despite that, until his father’s death, he was always billed as A.R. Gurney Jr., out of respect.

As it happens, I first had the opportunity to meet and work with Pete in 1984, when I was only two weeks out of college. He had only truly broken through in his career two years earlier, at the age of 52, with his comedy The Dining Room.

While he was fond of noting the critical reception for Scenes from American Life in 1971, it was The Dining Room that made his name, and allowed him to stop teaching full-time – that alternate profession had sustained him for two decades. He didn’t fit the model of an emerging playwright in appearance, demeanour or choice of dramatic subjects.

I didn’t quite realise this at the time, and I treated him as I treated every artist I met in my earliest years: with something approaching awe. But Pete’s warmth and genuine interest in every person he met led to a professional friendship that lasted the rest of his life, even though he was only three years younger than my dad. When I took a new job in 2003, he called me to say he was proud of me – the most paternal gesture I can imagine, and one that I will never forget.

Being a younger, Jewish man, Pete’s works held a certain anthropological fascination for me. As I watched his plays over the years, often with audiences that seemed to have stepped out of his plays – as did much of the crowd at his memorial – it struck me that they were coming to see their way of life satirised, criticised and – perhaps against their will – eulogised.

Pete’s particular gift, lost to the casual observer, was that he managed to do this without giving offence. I liked to say that his audiences recognised his characters as the family down the street, but never as themselves.

At the memorial, actor Holland Taylor, who had worked with Pete often, said: “He may have hung his heritage out to dry, but he was always dressed in it the next day.”

Pete’s greatest success was certainly his play Love Letters, which was translated into 24 languages and produced in 40 countries. In its simplicity, it was perhaps his most structurally daring play: two actors, seated at a table, reading from their scripts, never looking at one another until the penultimate moment, requiring no rehearsal, consisting entirely of a life-long correspondence of unrequited love.

What few recall is that Love Letters followed his uncharacteristic work The Snow Ball. While his plays typically called for a single set and perhaps six actors at most, The Snow Ball took place in multiple locations, called for a cast of about 16, and if memory serves, about 80 costumes.

Yes, I worked on his most technically complex play, and one of his least seen. At the memorial, director Jack O’Brien railed against a now-deceased Boston critic who had derailed its path to New York.

I will miss Pete always, and with that I will miss the Off-Broadway era that allowed him such great success. While his regional productions were legion, and presumably will remain so, we no longer see the days when plays would transfer from Playwrights Horizons, the late Circle Repertory or other not-for-profit venues to sustained commercial runs Off-Broadway, as Pete’s did.

Now plays either move on to Broadway or they finish their limited runs and are lost to New York, more often than not setting the stage for larger audiences and bigger royalties outside of the city than in it.

Pete didn’t mourn the passing of the world in which he was raised; he told me it was culturally bankrupt when I interviewed him in 2015. But with his death I mourn the passing of an era when plays didn’t have to move to Broadway in order to have a chance of survival in New York, and could find ongoing homes in smaller theatres.

Without that, I fear we lose the opportunity to foster emerging playwrights most fully, whether they’re 20-year-old tyros or, like Pete, 50-year-old overnight successes.

She Has A Name: Casually Diminishing Women In Theatre

November 1st, 2015 § Comments Off on She Has A Name: Casually Diminishing Women In Theatre § permalink

A few weeks ago, the headline of a review rubbed me the wrong way.

I didn’t have an issue with the review itself, by Charles McNulty for The Los Angeles Times. But the headline for the piece, which covered the new Broadway productions of Old Times and Fool For Love, read as follows, “Clive Owen and Sam Rockwell hit Broadway in ‘Old Times’ and ‘Fool for Love’ with different results.”

Why was the headline only about men, I thought. Admittedly, I hadn’t seen either production at that point, but I was familiar with the plays, and knew that the character Rockwell plays in Fool is at least evenly matched with the role played by Nina Arianda, and Owen shares the stage in a triangle with characters played by Eve Best and Kelly Reilly. My theatre-centric brain took this headline as gender inequity.

Thinking on it, I can see why the men might have gotten the headline mentions, since both have done television and film work, with Owen currently in the second season of The Knick. But neither are exactly bankable stars who “open” movies. Best and Arianda are “only” Tony Award winners, which may mean less in the entertainment hierarchy these days than electronic media work, especially in the major paper of the city that is the center of television and film business.

That said, Best appeared in 51 episodes of Nurse Jackie, though she’s not the lead, as Owen is on The Knick, but she did that series for much longer on Showtime than Owen has been doctoring on Cinemax. Admittedly, Owen was making his Broadway debut, and Rockwell was only making his second appearance, making their gigs slightly rarer than Arianda and Best each taking their third Broadway turns. I decided this wasn’t a clear cut case of advancing men over women, despite my own perception of implied unequal worth among the players along gender lines.

But this male favoritism sprang to mind again just this morning, when I saw this headline on a theatre story on NorthJersey.com, a website that includes coverage from The Record and other New Jersey outlets: “The woman directing Al Pacino in David Mamet’s new play.”

Headline from The Record

Now I knew instantly that the piece was about Pam MacKinnon because it’s my business to know who’s working on what show, but also because Pam has quickly become one of New York’s most recognized female directors, for such works as Clybourne Park (for which she had received an Obie) and Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (for which she won a Tony). Yet the headline was all about the big, male names, even though neither of them had spoken to The Record’s Robert Feldberg. Only Pam had done so.

Pam MacKinnon

Pam MacKinnon

Sure, you can chalk it up to celebrity, to what might get the most clicks online, but once again it was a case of choosing male names over female, and in this case the article was about “the woman.” I don’t fault the writer, but an editor and perhaps someone at the copy desk, who figured they’d go with male fame, rather than the female subject of the story.

Obviously it’s not possible to say from the two headlines I’ve cited to say that there’s a widespread pattern here, but I would suggest to readers who care about this issue that they should be on the lookout for such casual disregard of women in the theatre and call it out (or let me know; I’m starting a list) whenever it appears. Yes, it’s a very small-bore, incremental game of standing vigilant, but if indeed there’s a pattern, then it has to be broken at every opportunity.

Before I wrote this post, I called out The Record on its headline on Twitter as follows, at 10:30 am:

Now I can’t know for certain there’s any cause and effect, but 25 minutes later, after multiple favorites and retweets of my message, The Record altered its headline to “Director’s hard work on ‘China Doll’ pays off.” It appears they got the message – though presumably the original headline is what’s in the print edition. It’s also worth noting that the headline was changed without any acknowledgement, so in the long memory of the internet, the male-centric headline never happened. That’s dishonest.

Revised headline in The RecordBut even in an effort to ameliorate their insensitivity, it seems The Record still can’t bring itself to give the “Director” a name. So I’ll say it once again: it’s Pam MacKinnon. Remember it and use it, because without it, the record is incomplete and the paper’s bias is showing.

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

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