I have been asked a lot recently about why I work in theatre…here are just a few examples why…
Each time I walk into a theatre I haven’t entered before, whether for work or simple pleasure, I am awed by the sacred space in which artists do their work. No matter how small, how large, or how odd a space is, the magic that is created within it engulfs me in feelings and sensations. It is equally exciting to walk into a space that has been utterly transformed for a specific production –space that has been transformed to support a vision and convey a message.
Above all else I cherish the first moments I walked through the doors of theatres I have worked for, lived in. I remember vividly the first things I saw, the smells, the people who were there, and my stomach fluttering with excitement – whether it was MCC, Union Square, Vineyard, Signature, WCP, or the three academic institutions that shaped my love of the world of theatre. I hold those first moments in the deepest part of my heart and soul.
The show that had the most significant impact on my life professionally and personally was the original Off-Broadway production of Wit. I remember lying on the floor of my New York sublet reading the script and knowing it was something special. Of course the script has some flaws – there are no perfect scripts — but I knew just from the first reading that it would reach into audience members’ hearts and remind them to connect to the people in their lives with love and respect. The company of artists on the show became a true family – theatre people often say that but in truth, it’s a very rare occurrence. I remember the break-through moment that took the show from good to great – when the set designer eliminated the rolling walls from the set and added the curtains on tracks. That simple but profound decision visually and psychologically opened the staging in a way that tied together all the elements — the writing, directing and acting — and fully served the arc of the piece. It was a wonder to behold.
Kathleen Chalfant led the company with grace and taught me that kindness, equity, respect and dignity were the most important tools a person could possess. It was my first show to transfer to a commercial run. I worked with all three New York companies, even after I had left MCC. I was so proud when I was introduced to Judith Light and she told me how glad she was to finally meet me because the entire company kept telling her I was the one who knew the show best and held it together. I fell in love with my husband on the show and was honored that Kathleen did a reading at our wedding and most of the members of the three companies were there to see us married, years after the show and tours had closed. Most of all I love that Maggie Edson told the story she wanted to tell, said goodbye to a dear friend after helping him achieve a directing legacy, and went back to teaching kindergarten.
At the Vineyard, I recall reading the treatment for Fully Committed and knowing it would either be brilliant or a disaster. Thank goodness it ended up the former. For weeks on end Mark Setlock (the actor playing tens of roles) and Becky Mode (the playwright) would run from the rehearsal room to our administrative offices and gather us quickly so they could run an idea by us to see if it was funny. It was a period of great spontaneity, collaboration, and fun. It was wonderful to watch the audiences each night laughing at the rudeness or foolishness of the play’s restaurants’ customers some of them unaware they had acted in the exact same manner towards the box office when purchasing or picking up their tickets. Our box office even wrote their own version of the show which was performed for Becky and Mark after the closing performance.
I am grateful that I got to hear Anika Noni Rose, Mandy Gonzalez, Ronell Bey, and Judy Kuhn sing the songs of Laura Nyro in Eli’s Coming every night (except Mondays) for ten weeks. I hadn’t even heard of Laura Nyro when we started creating the show, and although the storyline never pulled together, the music and performances were among the best I have ever witnessed. It was on this show that the true art of orchestration and arrangement was taught to me.
I was at the Vineyard on September 11, 2001. I couldn’t get into the City from Brooklyn and watched it all from my roof just across the river. Our crew had gone in at 8 am that day and the master carpenter’s wife worked in the North Tower –so everyone worked together to find her (thankfully we did). I remember Doug Wright who had written and directed the show that was in rehearsals at that time was also stuck in Brooklyn and we spent most of the day on the phone. We were talking when the Pentagon was hit, and I can still here Doug saying, “Jodi the world will never be the same, what is happening?” We were back in rehearsals two days later, bound together forever by the experience of walking through Union Square each day looking at the posters of those missing and the vigils. I think we all survived that week by being in the theatre working on a show.
I am one of the fortunate people in this world to have lived on Avenue Q. I learned all the ups and downs of enhancement deals on the production – if it could happen it certainly did on the original off-Broadway production. We went through six full set design versions before finding the right one for the show. We had to learn an entire art – puppet making and maintenance. We had an actor fall off stage and have to perform all of previews from a wheel-chair on the side of the house. But the entire time we laughed until we cried. I had fractured my ribs right before the tech of the show. During the tech rehearsal for the love scene between Princeton and Kate Monster, I actually laughed so hard that I re-fractured a rib. I spent the rest of the week and previews watching the show with pillows stuffed around me in my chair.
Simultaneously, with Avenue Q, I began work at Signature – working 60 hour weeks covering both jobs for 30 hours each. It was glorious. Downtown, I had the kids on Avenue Q and uptown, the talented cast of Lanford Wilson’s Fifth of July. When it opened I was general manager for both the biggest hit musical in town and the hottest play revival.
At Signature there are almost too many profound, life-changing moments to list: my first conversation with Arthur Miller (very relaxed and inspiring), my first conversation with Edward Albee (very awkward and unnerving), watching Bill Irwin endlessly disappear into that trunk, and on and on.
I do have to talk about the luminous production of Horton Foote’s Trip to Bountiful. The only other cast that was a family to me and still truly is to this day. I am not sure why but of all the playwrights I have ever met and worked with, I connected most powerfully with Horton . Perhaps as a fellow Texan, his words spoke to me in a special way, or perhaps it is simply that he was a true gentleman of the theatre. I am blessed to have known him, and his wonderful words will live with me forever.
There are so many more shows or moments that I could go on and on about good or bad but all cherished – like the night at the Vineyard when the grocery store above the space decided to defrost their meat freezer and the drain poured meat “by-product” that had been in the drain onto the stage and the actors. The night that a prop gun didn’t go off and an actor jumped up and down on stage screaming bang, bang, bang until the other actor picked up the cue. Each standing ovation is its own memory – the ones that were earned and not obligatory as they so often are on Broadway. Or the endless times I sat watching the audience, seeing them lean in as if they could feel the moment even more if they were just a bit closer to the stage. Or the artists who proud of their performances or filled with joy of seeing their work on stage lit up a room with their smiles. And those are just the shows I worked on.
Not included are the wonderful events, galas, readings, and education programs that I carry with me. Angela Lansbury singing “Nothing’s going to harm you,” or David Hyde Pierce singing a John Kander song that had never been heard before by anyone as John had written it for a lost love . Kevin Bacon bringing down the house while honoring Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins. And there was the magical moment when Harper Lee toasted Horton Foote on his 90th Birthday (and told me to call her Nell).
And all of this still doesn’t include the shows I have seen but not worked on. Those unforgettable moments that are burned into your memory– the frying pan in Beauty Queen of Lenane or the grabber in Well. Or the emotions that well up when I think of a show I have seen, for instance, the sheer anger of Stuff Happens or the pure awe of anything done by Cirque du Soleil. Or the opportunity to see some of the great talents of our time on stage – Paul Newman in Our Town or Meryl Streep in Mother Courage. Or the joy one finds in discovering a new talent – Tom Sadowski in Reasons to be Pretty. The shows that were embarrassingly fun – Mamma Mia and Jersey Boys. Or the shows that hit you so hard in the gut that you can still feel the pain of watching them – Grey Zone or The Baltimore Waltz.
I could write forever on how much I love, crave and belong working in a theatre, watching theatre, and producing theatre. It is in a theatre that I come as alive as the actors and audience. I love the interactions with actors, crews, playwrights, directors, and the staffs who work far more hours than they can ever be financially compensated for. I could write another six pages about the moments where I saw an education program impact and change someone’s life in an instant. I could certainly write a book about how the theatre has changed mine.
