Dan Leventritt, Václav Havel, and Scott Simpson after Havel visits the performance of Audience at the Havel Festival |
I have directed Václav Havel’s play Audience twice.
The first time was as part of a double bill, which included
Slawomir Mrozek’s Striptease. It
was my first production in New York, and I was not only director, I was stage
manager, set designer, lighting designer, costume designer, tech crew and box office. The second time was as part of the Havel Festival, and Havel
himself attended. The first time
the translation was by Vera Blackwell, and I had found it in a big stack of
Samuel French scripts and taken a liking to it, somewhat at random. The second time the script was by Havel
friend Jan Novák, who had been commissioned to translate all of Havel’s Vaněk
plays for the festival. The first
time we averaged about eight audience members a show. The second time we had a relatively full house every night.
Both times, the Brewmaster was played by Dan Leventritt, who
seemed to me to be made for the part. Dan’s performance in 1992 stuck so
strongly in my memory that I knew I wanted no one else to play the part in
2006.
Audience, for those unfamiliar with it, is a two-hander that
introduced the character Vaněk, an alter ego of sorts for Havel. Like Havel, Vaněk is a playwright who is
forced to work in a brewery because the government has declared that he can no
longer work as a writer. I have
written a little about the character in my essay that introduces the book The
Vaněk Plays (you can find that essay here)
When I first directed the play, I was new to New York. I
borrowed money from my father and brother to rent a black box theater for two
weeks, but had no money for any other aspect of the production. We rehearsed Audience in Dan’s apartment
on the Upper West Side, where I and the actor playing Vaněk, Moni Damevski,
crowded in around a small table.
Fortunately, a small table was about all the play demanded.
Simultaneously, I was directing Striptease with an actor I
knew from college, Jason Katz (who now uses the name Jason Harris), and an
actor who had appeared in my New Jersey production of Artist Descending a
Staircase, Peter Brown. Both
became good friends. They were
game enough to follow me into a little empty space I found that seemed
unoccupied, somewhere in midtown.
After a couple of rehearsals, we found out why it was abandoned, when
men in protective suits came in and told us they were there to remove the
asbestos.
The set included a table (which I found in the theater) and
two freestanding doors. I created
the lighting on my own one night during what I loosely called “tech week,”
running between the light boot and climbing up ladders to approximate some very
basic cues. I recorded a toilet
flushing and used some Michael Nyman music as our only sound cues, except for
the mixtape I made for preshow and intermission.
A day before we went up, there were still no doors. The morning before the first
performance I called my friend Mike Nuzzo. “Can you please help me?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said, always game to assist. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“Curtain is in eight hours,” I said.
He drove in from New Jersey with two doors, and with the
help of a little wood from Dykes Lumber, we somehow got them to stand. When the actors arrived at 6pm, they
expressed surprise that we had been able to set up the doors at all.
My brother David, who besides being our major
funder/cheerleader was a stagehand/puppeteer for Striptease (there were two giant hands that needed manipulation),
came in and learned his part in the hour or so remaining. Then we opened.
Fourteen years later, at the Ohio Theater, Václav Havel sat
in the audience and watched Dan and our new Vaněk, the wonderfully talented
Scott Simpson, perform the show.
Afterwards he congratulated Dan and Scott, and I introduced him to our terrific
stage manager, Taylor Keith, and the rest of our staff.
It was another small theater in New York, but it was a long
journey between the two productions. And I am proud to say, Havel was pleased.
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