Fynsworth Alley

By Zachary Van Brunt

July 3, 2001

Marc Kudisch appeared in the Broadway revival of Bells Are Ringing as leading man Jeffrey Moss. He’s also appeared on Broadway in Michael John LaChiusa’s The Wild Party, The Scarlet Pimpernel, Beauty and the Beast, and notably spent time on the road and in a television movie as the title character in Bye Bye, Birdie. But make no mistake: fame has not gone to his head. Marc takes his job seriously, but, as he says, he never takes himself all that seriously.

ZVB: Let’s start with Bells Are Ringing. With this show you made the jump from supporting actor to above-the-title leading man. Did that make a difference for you?

MK: Yes and no. Yes, to people’s perception of me, but no, not to me personally. I’m a character actor. Pure and simple. It’s what I do. I’m not a leading man in the sense that I’m not a personality that you put onstage. I’m not like this guy that does this thing that he does and that that will happen to fit particular leading roles. I’m a character actor; it’s what I’ve always done. And Jeffrey Moss happened to be the character in this show that I was right for, which in this particular case happens to be the leading man. But the roles that I’ve played in the past have been the roles that I have been right for in those particular shows and those generally end up being the supporting roles more than the leading man because they’re characters. I find Jeffrey Moss very unconventional for a leading man, because he’s neurotic, he’s an upper-East snob, he’s a bit of a hypochondriac. So he’s not your typical strapping kind of leading guy, for whatever that is. And, quite honestly, he’s more in what would be considered to be the woman’s role of the play. He’s a very reactive character as opposed to being an active force of the show, which is why I enjoyed playing him. What I mean by "reactive" is that he’s very influenced; he’s very affected by her activity. It isn’t until the end of the show that he actually takes the action onto himself to make something happen when he’s trying to figure out who she is and chase her down. But up to that point, it’s her energy and her affection and it’s her personality that are opening him up to things about himself that he didn’t realize.

ZVB: That’s just rather atypical for a leading man in a show.

MK: Yeah, actually. It’s rather atypical, quite honestly, for a man in a show, period. That’s usually that woman’s role. And that’s just our society and all that and the way that typically things are written. This was a role that was written for a woman. I mean, even Frank Butler – even though Annie Get Your Gun was written for a woman – Frank Butler has a certain action on his own, although he is also to a certain degree reactive, he is still already an established character of, let’s say strength and power and manhood. Where, personally, I find Jeffrey Moss – I mean, when we first meet him, he’s a mess, which, again, is very atypical. I’ve never played a character that when you meet him, he’s at his absolute worse. And then as the show progresses, he becomes more and more into himself thanks to her. Most of the time I end up playing characters that are very forceful, powerful personalities; the kind of personalities that when they walk on the stage, that stage is theirs. They start off looking their best, and by the end of the show are at their absolute worst. You know, Birdie. I don’t mean it in a bad way, I mean in any given way. Birdie starts being great and in the end of it he’s, like, disguised as a woman trying to get away. George Kittredge [in High Society] starts off strong and ends up storming out.

ZVB: Or even Jackie [in The Wild Party] for that matter.

MK: Jackie, well, of course. He starts off looking as polished as polished can be, and by the end, of course, he’s an absolute mess. But as we get into these people’s minds, we discover the façade they put up for themselves is only a cover. Gaston. Chauvelin. Every character. All of them. And this is that case where you meet him at his worst, but then that façade is uncovered to reveal what happens to be a really great guy. Human, but still a great guy, who’s discovering his own heart. Like at the end of the show, that’s really the beginning for him. It’s the beginning of his real realization of where his life is truly going to go next, thanks to her. She’s given him strength to be able to give her the strength back. That’s what cool about it. But that’s a character. That’s not really a leading man.

ZVB: You said that people’s perceptions of you changed. How did you see that?

MK: People’s perceptions changed because I’m above a title, so they’re like, "Aha! He’s worthy of leading-man status now." In people’s perception of this business, the business and the work are two different things. The business is that people say, "Well, once you’re above the title you’ve obviously reached a certain status or a certain power or a certain notoriety that you’re above the title." When in truth, work is just work. And for me, it’s the role. My next job is playing Trevor Graydon [in Thoroughly Modern Millie], who is a character and is the second-leading man of the show, but not the leading man of the show, per se. I step into what the people consider to be the leading man above-title thing, and then I’m stepping back into a supporting character again. Now, it’s the best character in the show. It’s an amazing character, and yet again, it’s a powerful personality that starts off one way and ends very different. But that’s the fun, you know? I like playing roles that are interesting. I like playing roles that are challenging, that are unexpected. That will give you either something completely unexpected, or that I’ll start off with giving you what you expect and then take you someplace you’d never imagined you go. That was the fun of Jackie. You thought you got him in the first couple of scenes, and then slowly he began to really reveal himself. And, ultimately, he took you someplace you just didn’t expect to go, and when you went there, you questioned your own instinct, in terms of, ‘I thought he was this, but her turned out to be that.’

ZVB: Was that a throw for you when you had to play Jeff Moss the other around?

MK: Sure. It was great fun. Because the trick of that character – and it’s a very tricky character. It’s the trickiest character in the show, because you’ve got to love him, but you can’t apologize for the fact that he is a bit of an ass, and a snob, and a hypochondriac, and neurotic. I mean, you can’t apologize for that. If anything, that is wherein his charm lies. Because we’re all human, and it’s finding the ism’s of a character that are funny but also truthful. Not going for a shallow laugh, or something that will get a giggle in the moment. It’s going for some truth that is naturally funny, but also resonates who that person is, so that later on that will pay off for you, either in a repetitive action, we’ll really get what he’s saying. Like with Jackie [in The Wild Party]. Jackie starts off saying little things and he seems cute and clever and witty, and then we realize it’s not so funny. And then we realize the true nature of that character, and it’s not funny at all. If anything, it’s a little sad – not a little sad, very sad. He ultimately ends up being the most dangerous person in that show. And you think he’s the harmless one. And that’s where humor pays off, because it’s not just funny, but it resonates with something a little deeper. And with Jeff, his own self-deprecation, is funny, but also resonates the truth of who that man is. That later when he even admits things about himself, we laugh at the recognition of this man knowing himself, I think.

My favorite little moment of Jeff Moss is when we’re on the subway, and he’s sitting there saying, "You were the miracle. You even got me to take the subway and I never take the subway." And he’s excited because he’s enlightened to something about himself and about what’s just happened in his life, and he’s almost a boy because he’s completely open to it, and then he turns around and he sees the beggar. And he immediately clicks into, ‘Ooooo. Oh, look. People on the subway,’ the very thing that he wants to avoid. So at the same moment he’s opening up to this certain enlightenment is the same moment that he’s still the snob that he’s always been. And it’s those little things that make us human and real. It’s like I said to somebody, "It’s the hypocrite in all of us." One of my favorite things ever was when Rent first opened, and all these people, all these very rich, upper-upper-class white people were going to see Rent. And they were, like, "Oh, this is really moving and breathtaking," and "Oh, it’s a terrible thing, these poor children. Something needs to be done," right? As they’re walking out of the theatre and walking by the very homeless kids that are sitting in front of the theatre and ignoring them. So, they can sit back and be moved by it. Meanwhile, they’re, like, "Oooh. What are these kids doing in front of this theatre?" That’s that hypocrisy that I like about being human. Does that make sense? I’m a very analytical person, at least when it comes to the aftermath of things. I think that rehearsals are all about this: really finding the truth to a character, really getting in and analyzing things to a certain degree. Of course, then, when you get there, it’s just, do it! It’s part real analysis and then it’s part spontaneity.

ZVB: The role wasn’t written for a particularly strong singer, which you definitely are. Did you find any difficulties in that?

MK: Oh, hell, no. No, no. If anything, it was a joy because it had never been associated with a singer. And because of that, I don’t think, I don’t think they had ever, like, in a larger production, ever really had a singer. And it was interesting, because in the beginning, when I auditioned, and then we started working on the material, they were, like, "OK. We need to work on not singing so much," only because they had only associated this with a non-singer. And as we did the show and as we got into rehearsals, I think – especially [authors] Betty [Comden] and Adolph [Green] love my voice. So then they just allowed me to go there more and more, and then it was never a discussion of not singing too much. Because it was really the first time that they had had – in a large production, obviously on this level of production – a singer in that role. So it was actually quite a joy. We took alternate notes and we played around with the music. And I thought that it helped, like in "Independent." Right at the end of the song when we’re all singing together, and we go, "On … my … own," and I hold this G out forever above everybody else. And I just think that it’s emotionally worth it here. It’s almost like a cry of defiance of some sort.

So it gave me more an opportunity, I think, to really kind of express the music, where before they didn’t have someone that could. I mean, I sang more in "I Met A Girl," than Chaplin did originally because I could. I sang more in "Independent," because I could. They cut back on a lot of the music originally because he couldn’t sing. It’s interesting, the role was written for him. I mean, written for him. Judy Holliday got him that job. So the truth is, to be quite honest with you, I’m not playing Jeffrey Moss. I am playing Sydney Chaplin. I mean, truthfully. The role was written around his personality, but he was a triple threat: he couldn’t sing, he couldn’t dance, and he couldn’t act. What he was was a very charming man who was Charlie Chaplin’s son, who was charismatic and quite a womanizer. And he was seeing Judy Holliday before the show, and, of course, Judy got the show and she wanted Sydney to be there. So the role was really kind of written around his own behavior: he was a partier; he was a huge drinker; he was a playboy. And, of course, in the land of music theatre, this woman comes into his life and completely changes him. And, of course, he screwed around behind her back all the time. And that’s why it was interesting. I remember when some of the reviews came out and some people said that I wasn’t as effortless as the original. And it made me laugh because I wanted to say, "Well, sure, because he wasn’t acting." He probably didn’t even realize that they were really just writing it around his personality. But back in 1956, you didn’t really act in musicals anyway.

Back in 1956, that’s when The Actors’ Studio was just coming to a front. That’s when we were just discovering this modern, realistic style of acting that we have. That’s when Tennessee Williams was writing, and this was back in ’56. Plays were just starting to come out of a more declamatory style into a more realistic style. Musicals were still finding their way out of vaudeville. Even though structurally, they were becoming books with music, but style was still – you know, Alfred Drake. This was in his heyday. And Alfred Drake was a personality. Kiss Me, Kate was written for him. It was written for that personality. He was wonderfully good at being Alfred Drake, but was he an actor? Was Larry Kert an actor? No. They were personalities that were very electric on a stage, but acting was not really a part of Broadway yet. It was coming very soon. But you’re also talking about Comden and Green, who are still very much a vaudeville-type of entertainment. I mean, you can watch Bells and see that. A lot of the book, as good as the book is at times, every third line is a punch line. This, I think, is also the first time that it was being attacked as an actual play with real acting going on, in both of our cases. So, in truth, to make a long story short, I’m playing Sydney Chaplin. He’s named Jeffrey Moss, but I was trying to play the truth of what they saw that personality to be. I know that’s a long answer, but it’s interesting to me.

ZVB: Well, yeah. And that’s what we’re here for, so there you go. Were you at all familiar with the show before you auditioned?

MK: Not at all. I still have yet to see the film. I don’t like to see films. If I read a script, that’s the only research I need, is to read the script. And if the script is good, I’ll get it. A lot of people said to me, "The role of Jeffrey is very underwritten." And I’d say, "No. I don’t think he’s underwritten. I think that there’s just enough written. You just need to know what to do with it." I think that my take on Jeffrey was very different than anyone else’s take has ever been, but that’s because I went for the truth. I wanted to play the arc of this guy’s journey in the show. And it’s a little edgy and a little dark. And you know what? So was Sydney. The truth of Sydney Chaplin was: he was a dark man. He was alcoholic, he was a womanizer, and it was behavior that quite honestly never stopped. The same thing he went through with Judy Holliday, he went through 10 years later he went through with Barbra Streisand in Funny Girl. Same thing. So, sure, he was charming and light and all that stuff on stage, but the truth of who this man was, as a human being, was completely different, and that is what I wanted to play. Now I’m not saying I was trying to play Sydney Chaplin, don’t misunderstand what I’m saying. It wasn’t like I’d researched him to find out what the truth was. But reading the script you could tell it was written around someone’s personality. Like, when you read it, you can tell it was written around Judy Holliday’s humor. But, if you read, and you read between the lines, you can also tell it was written around her insecurities as well. It’s one thing to see the play, it’s another thing to read the script. Like, no kidding. You should go and read the script. Just get the libretto and read it, and you’ll see how much of that is not necessarily on the page, but it’s in the interpretation or is what’s between the lines. Because Jeff Moss in the script is just reactionary. But if you read between it and you get the logic, than you really get the depth of who that person is. Now that’s my job as an actor. But, in truth, it’s everyone’s job: the director’s job, the choreographer’s job. You get the essence of the truth. And then you don’t need so many words – just the right words.

ZVB: How do you normally prepare for auditions then?

MK: I read the material. I try to understand as much of it as I can. Most of the time I want a whole script. If I don’t know it, I want the script. Because it’s not enough to be given a scene. That doesn’t give you anything. And I’m not one of these guys – I like to play the truth of the moment. I don’t like to play an entire script in a scene. No one can do that. No one does that in real life. So, if I’m going to audition for a musical, I want as much information as I can get so that I’ll understand the fullness of it, and I’ll also understand that if they give you a couple of scenes to read you’ll know the context of where that character is at that given period in the play, so that you can play the truth of that moment. I like enough time that I can get my own very clear sense of it, so that when I walk in, I’ve got a very clear take. And I believe when you audition, not only are they auditioning you, but you’re also auditioning them.

ZVB: In what ways?

MK: Well, I’m going to walk in with a very specific idea of this character. One of three things can truly happen. One: my idea of that character will be very much their idea of that character, and they’ll be, like, "That’s it! That’s great! That’s exactly what we’re looking for!" In which case, I go, ‘We’re on the same wavelength already. That’s a good thing. Now I know that our ideas are similar and we can approach working at this from the same place. Two: you’ll walk in, and you’ll be very specific, and they’ll be, like, "OK, OK. Um, why not try that like this?" or they’ll give you a little bit of direction. In which case I go, ‘OK, maybe this isn’t their idea of a character, but they’re aware of the fact that as an actor, I make specific choices, and they now want to see what kind of an actor I am, how quickly I can take direction, how flexible I am, how mercurial I am. Am I able to change up like that?’ And the way that they ask, and that’s the way that they react to it is also telling in terms of whether I will be able to work with these people or not. Or three: you’ll walk in, you’ll do it, and because it’s not the way they see the character, they think you’re not a good actor, or they think that you don’t get it, and that tells me this is not someone I want to work with. Because they’re not giving me direction, they’re not being specific what they want, and/or they don’t know how to communicate what they want, so they’re hoping someone’s going to walk in and just be it. And who wants to work with that? That’s only going to be frustrating, because there are those people out there that basically want to put on top of you what they see. And I’m all for collaborating. I’m not for being told what to do. That doesn’t mean that I won’t take direction, that just means that if you hire me, you hire me for who I am and what I bring. And it’s a collaborative art.

I would say that my favorite director I’ve ever worked with is George Wolfe. I think he’s brilliant that way. He knows how to see the concept of something as a whole, and he knows how to help you to where he needs you to be for the play, but in a way that’s completely organic to your process, whatever that is. He won’t give you line readings. He’ll drop ideas in your head that make you go, "Ohhh!" And he’ll say, "Yeah. Now go." Then you’ll go and you’ll find it organically on your own and then he’ll come to you and say, "That’s it. Do you see what I mean?" And I go, "Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah." Or he’ll say, "OK, maybe that’s not quite what I meant. That’s not in the direction. Now try a little bit of this," you know what I mean? I remember I had so many people tell me when I auditioned for George Wolfe, "Look out. He’s terrible." That was one of my favorite auditions that I’ve ever had. He was so clear about what he wanted. He was so clear about what he felt. I guess that can be intimidating for some people. For me, it was, like fresh air. Because there was somebody who wasn’t caught up in an insecurity or wasn’t dysfunctional in their communicative skills. Again, long, but specific. I’m very, very specific. Semantics are hugely important to me.

ZVB: Let’s go on with The Wild Party a bit. Jackie was certainly an interesting character, as we went over earlier. How did you prepare to play him?

MK: I didn’t. Let me see if I can – like, when I went into auditions, they gave me my first number, "Breezin’ Through Another Day." They gave me the song. And it’s funny, too. Originally, I didn’t get an audition through submission. I had bumped into Michael John on the subway. And he came up to me and said, "Hi, Marc. Michael John LaChiusa." And I was, like, "Hi, Michael. How are you? We had met before." We literally were on the subway, and he goes, "Listen. Are you in town?" And I said, "Sure." And he’s, like, "Well, we’re going to be doing a workshop of this piece that I’ve been working on for a little while, and I’ve been interested in you for a while in this role, but you weren’t really available before when we did this first workshop of it." And he said, "It’s this really interesting role: Jackie." He said, "You’re very not-the-type that we’ve been seeing, but it’s your essence that I think is right." What they had been looking at were, I guess I should say, lighter personalities, but it was always an issue or a force. They had to force bringing out the darkness at the end. Their personalities were that light sort of thing, but then when it came time for the bite, they really didn’t have it. And he had seen me in High Society and really enjoyed what I did. He said to me, "I think you have the refinement to pull off the tough stuff, because I know that you’re personality is naturally dark at the end. But I know for you, that’s the easy part." And he said, "And I’m just interested to see if you could do the lightness in the beginning and the polish." And I said, "OK. Great." But I’m a baritone as opposed the role being really written for a tenor. but I’m able to use my voice in a way that I can lighten it. And I said to him, "When the time comes, I can open it up." But I can keep it light, but they’ll always be an edge there, and that’s what I think he liked about the idea of me.

So when I went in to audition, it was so funny, because there were all these boys: very light, I want to say, almost fey personality. And then there was me, who’s used to playing all these forceful, very masculine, very big, dark, powerful personality. It was fun, because I knew I could do that; I knew I could play that other side. I mean, I knew I could do that. And looking over the song, everything you need to know about Jackie is in that first number; it’s completely who he is. Not only is it all his background information, it’s how he takes that information – how he takes the disgusting dysfunction of his life and turns it into this fabulous adventure. Now if that doesn’t tell you a lot about a person, how much more do you need? How much more information do you need? It’s all there. It’s just for you to find it. And then play with it and let it go. Like I say, I read it, I went over the song, I got the song, and then I walked in the audition and just did what came.

And then in the rehearsals of doing Jackie (that’s pretty much what it is, but that’s kind of how I rehearse anyway) I would analyze things more as an observation and less than a set-up. I’ll just do it, then I’ll observe what I did, and then I can figure out the why’s of it. And then I can get deeper into the logic, so that the next time I do it, it will just be spontaneous again with a deeper knowledge of who the person is. I’m a very from-the-hip person. Working on Jackie was really just playing and figuring out the whole rape sequence – I remember the day I just did it, and there it was. And as I was doing it, the progression and logic of what makes the character go from A to B to C just came to me. I mean, literally, that was an interesting day. Let’s see … what’s the proper way to rape a 14-year-old? Because George and I had a lot of talks about that and ultimately, I came to the conclusion that it was not a rape at all.

ZVB: What’d you come to then?

MK: It was just a miscommunication of ideas. I remember, our final run before we moved to the theatre down at the Public, we were all talking about the characters and stuff like that. I was quiet most of the time, and then somebody asked me something about Jackie. I said, "Well, quite honestly, I think that Jackie is one of the most innocent people on the stage." And the entire company railed on me. "How could you say that?" Like, everybody was sitting in judgment of that character at that moment. And the only person defending what I was saying, or even listening was George. And I said, "Look. Every one of you all. Don’t sit here and judge what I did. The only difference between my character and y’all’s characters is I was the first one to go over the cliff. But y’all are right behind me, so don’t even sit and talk to me. Don’t judge." But she’s 14. And I even said, when you get to know the nature of a character, you get to know the logic of that character, because nobody thinks that they’re crazy or really wrong. I said, "Does anyone own a cat? When a cat plays, does it bite? Does it mean to hurt? No. That’s how that cat plays. This is how Jackie plays." He was taking it from his father from the time he was probably 11 or 12 years old. This is what this man knows of affection. Period. End of story. As dysfunctional as that is, as abusive as it is; is as much affection as he knows because this was the only time in his life his father ever showed him real attention was when he was giving it to him. Now that’s not unlike a lot of people in this world, and that’s not unlike other people’s dysfunction. So I said, for Jackie, this is not unnatural. And beside the fact that she was dressed up like a woman; she looked like a woman. She wanted to do the cocaine, she wanted to do this, she wanted to do that. How did he know that she didn’t want to do this? It was miscommunication. She didn’t say no; she didn’t say stop. And everybody was, like, "She’s 14. She’s 14." And I said, "Yeah, but so is he … in the body of a 30-year-old, but still." You know what I mean?

ZVB: That adds a lot more depth not only to those who only know the recording, but probably also to those who got to see the show.

MK: Oh, sure. Well, the recording only gives you what you’re hearing, and not even that much. I mean, you have to see it to understand. Because no character – no character – affected and/or upset people as much as Jackie. No other character would have gone there. No other character would have done such a thing. Even killing someone else wasn’t as bad as raping a 14-year-old. That’s just wrong and taboo. But the thing that made Jackie so dangerous is that he was such an innocent. None of his actions were malicious at all, so he was capable of doing anything – anything – because there was an innocence in his action. Now, that’s hard to grasp maybe, but that’s what made him interesting and ultimately incredibly sympathetic. And I think that that’s where people had a problem with him, because they watched his actions and then – what you don’t hear on the album is: there’s a huge breakdown after that. So there I am on top of her and then Eddie comes running in. Then she starts screaming while I’m screwing her because she doesn’t know what I’m going to do and then when she feels that, she’s never felt that in her life before, and so she starts freaking out. But we were laughing before that, so the difference between the laughter and the screaming – it takes a minute. And then Eddie comes in and he pulls me off of her and he starts beating the crap out of me, and then he starts running around, like, screaming at everybody because he’s drunk. Then everybody comes in and starts accusing me of doing this. Of course, I just start to freak out and become a little 8-year-old, going, "I didn’t do anything I didn’t do anything I didn’t do anything wrong." And then she says – Nadine says – that nothing happened. So I start to get really happy and dance around and sing and do all this, like I sing this little song. I sing this little reprise of "Uptown." Running around, and I pull out my cocaine and I try to get people to have cocaine with me and stuff. I mean, it’s like this really, odd, weird little moment. It’s even sicker than the rape itself because I get away with it essentially.

And the audience was, like, "Why doesn’t he get caught?" Because it was a slow process; it wasn’t me just jumping on top of her. It was us playing in the bed and me teaching her how to snort cocaine. And then, like, I start to tickle her and then I pull her underwear off. And then I drop my pants and I wasn’t wearing anything, so it was the visual of ‘Oh, my God.’ It’s not the act that’s frightening. It’s the knowledge of the moment. It’s the knowledge of what’s going to happen before it happens that’s frightening. And I knew that. And ultimately, Jackie doesn’t rape her as much as he rapes the audience because I led the audience to believe he was one thing, and then I do the most unthinkable act, and they’re wondering why their funny friend would do that. And then people don’t know what to think, because they have sympathy for the poor guy, but why would they have sympathy for someone who screws a 14-year-old?

So ultimately – again, in a long story – I loved playing him because he doesn’t fit any genre. He didn’t fit any pigeonhole. You didn’t know what to make of that. There’s never been a character like that in music theatre. I don’t know that there’s been a character like that so much even in plays. It’s just such a gray area where – and for an audience, you know, it just went to the pit of their stomach. Nobody knew what to think of that. Nobody knew what to make of that. There wasn’t an explanation. So for audiences, it was tough. Dude, I’d come out the stage door and people wouldn’t look at me.

ZVB: Oh really?

MK: Oh, yeah. People wouldn’t look at me. Friends would go, "Holy shit!" I mean, I had a buddy of mine who said, "When you first came out, I was thinking, ‘Oh, my God, man. You’re looking a little, you know, you’re looking a little fey up there, dude.’ " And then he realized what the character was, then he was like, "I can’t believe this." And then he lost me in it completely and just got into Jackie. And he said, "Oh my God." I mean, people would either completely avoid me or would come up to me very quietly say, "Oh my God." Audra McDonald: "You scared the shit out of me." And then, of course, people: "Oh, my God. What a stretch. What a challenge." In truth? No it wasn’t. No. No. It’s a part of our personality. I am open to my own personality. I am open to whatever comes out. I believe in life, as well as in the work: get out of its way. The real task is having the power, the confidence, the trust, the faith and the abandoned to do nothing and let it reveal itself to you. And with Jackie, he revealed himself to me. Being in that environment, working within the ideas and the logic of who that man is, and letting sticky thing just happen. And I think that people are always excited and/or impressed or moved by watching an actor on stage with real abandon. Because it’s difficult to see – well, or it’s fun to see that there’s a very fine line between the person who that person really is and the character they’re portraying. The line becomes very thin, if you’re committed to the truth.

That’s what I mean by I’m not a personality. I’m not the kind of guy who walks on stage and does the same thing in every show. I’m not. And I think that most of the times the reaction I get when I do a show is, "Wow." Like, every time, people are surprised that I’m funny, or that I’m dark or dramatic, or that I can play that kind of bisexual, subtle, polished, witty character, or that I can be absolutely outrageous and funny, or that I can be very still and very dangerous. Because, quite honestly, I’ve had the good fortune of going role to role where one looks nothing like the other. And that’s been a joy, and, in some ways, an obstacle because it confuses people.

In this business of ours, especially nowadays, people really want entertainment. They don’t want darkness in there so much, because so many dark things have kind of come along. Especially from last year, the two Wild Partys, people felt – when I say "people," I mean, those that are in those positions. Those elitists. The critics, nominators, people who consider themselves the dubbers of what good, quality theatre is. Their tastes move and shift, and I’ve found, especially this year, they don’t want darkness. They want entertainment. They don’t to have to think. They want personalities on a stage that always allow them to be aware that they’re performing for them. So that there’s not a danger. So that there’s not a confusion. You know exactly what they’re doing. You can sit back in the comfort of knowing that they don’t really mean it, and you can sit back and know that they’re entertaining you. I mean, even doing something as Bells I think confused people, because I didn’t just come out and be Mr. Charming-Guy. I came out and I was a little dark, a little edgy. I was a little, like, ‘Oooh. This is a little insidious, what’s with this guy?’ That’s not Bells Are Ringing. And then, ultimately of course, he comes into it.

But I mean, I remember Howard Kissell and John Simon – and I know them both – reviewed me and said, "Well, he wasn’t as easy in the first act." Howard was like, "Well, he starts off kind of drunk and kind of sleazy. He gets really charming in the second act, but by that time, it’s too late to believe that Ella would fall for him." And I’m, like, "Ella fell for me before she met me." And John was, like, "He wasn’t as effortless, but he relaxes in Act II." That’s not me. That’s the character. That’s what’s written. That’s called arc. What did you expect? Just me to come out onstage? No! That’s not what I’m paid to do. I’m paid to tell you who this person is. But I don’t think people want that anymore. Not now at least. That’s why I think The Producers was a big hit. Because no matter how offensive it is, it’s not offense like the original film was offensive. When it originally came out, it was. It was, like, "Hey! What the hell are you doing?" And I’m not putting it down. I thought it was great. But it’s a play that has the advantage of constantly winking at the audience; of constantly breaking the fourth wall; of constantly telling you, "We don’t really mean it." So we can go as far as we want because we don’t really mean it. But, like, with The Wild Party, you were never told that we didn’t really mean it. So you wondered: ‘Do you really mean it?’ I’m telling you, people were, like, "OK. This is odd. I didn’t know Marc could be like this. I didn’t know these people could be like that." And what was funny were friends of mine were, like, "Dude, there’s just not one single person on that stage you can feel for." And I’m, like, "You should feel for all of them. They’re human beings."

We have lost track. What’s interesting is: there is a dichotomy in musical theatre right now. One side of it is: let’s have the old musicals the way they used to be in the Golden Age. And another side of it is: let’s find where musicals are going next. Because, you know what? The Golden Age of musicals is gone. It was a different time. It was a different style. We’re moving into a more realistic, raw, truthful place in the theatre. And that’s where plays are going; why can’t musicals? They’re going to have to, because that’s where we are now. No one is going to accept what Comden and Green – there was a first section where I try to write on my own, and it was like this whole vaudeville schtick-y thing where I go off on tangents just by, like, playing tennis with myself, and then looking, and going, ‘I’m out of shape; I’m doing push-ups,’ and then he’d always go, "The play!" And then he’d always go off on a tangent and try to come back to writing. And I said to the director, and she said to me, "This isn’t going to work anymore. This isn’t going to work today. This is vaudeville. In ’56, this was an acceptable style of performing. Not now." So people screamed for the old-style musical. But the truth is, you can’t do – if you do the old-style musical with the truth of today, people go, "What are you doing? That’s now the way they did it then." Like the revival of Guys and Dolls, I think worked as well as it did, because it was like a cartoon. The colors and everything let you know that this is a fantasy, folks. It always let you know this is entertainment. I’m not putting down the performances. I’m just saying, in our version of Bells, we really played or tried to play truth, which was not the way it was originally played, because the styles are different. It’s tough. It’s a real dichotomy of where we are right now in music theatre.

ZVB: Did you feel that dichotomy at all when you were in The Scarlet Pimpernel?

MK: Well, yeah, in a way I did. Well, one of the biggest criticisms – like Brantley even said – we treated the script with more respect than any of our predecessors, we were better actors than our predecessors, we were better vocalists than our predecessors, so ultimately, it hurt the show. Because we gave it more respect than he thought it deserved. Now, this is what’s interesting to me about Brantley: he likes sheer entertainment. He liked the fact that, quite honestly, in the second one, the acting was not very good. But that was a choice. He’d compare me to Rex and say that I had more bite and more authority with the role, and I had a darker, more powerful voice. But he missed the campy-ness. He missed laughing uncontrollably leaving the first act because they were over the top. So in the second version, because they really camped it up, I guess he had more fun because it was just silly, where we really wanted to be honest and truthful to the story and give it some bite. Not to take away all of the humor, but humor can come in so many forms. And my particular form of comedy that – or, I like the most is situation, not trying to be funny. Anyone can walk out on a stage and scratch their ass and get a laugh. Anyone. But that’s like eating doughnut as opposed to eating a meal. It tastes good, but you’re going to forget about the doughnut in five minutes. A three-course meal is going to sustain you for the rest of the day. And that’s the kind of comedy I like. I like laughing in situation, and I like character recognition. Now, in doing what we did, we also pointed out the huge holes in the book.

So, yeah, I found that in The Scarlet Pimpernel. I loved doing it. I enjoyed doing it, and I felt that I’d played the role in a way that I hadn’t seen him played yet. I’d felt that both times before the character of Chauvelin was a dolt; an idiot. And I even said to the director, "Without a Chauvelin, you don’t have a Pimpernel. Without a threat, without a danger, you don’t need a hero. And the smarter Chauvelin is, the smarter Percy must be." Your villain must be smart. He’s just obsessive. He smells it all around him. It’s like when you’re looking for your keys and you’re in a hurry and they’re in your hand. It doesn’t make you an idiot. It just makes you not present to what’s in front of you because you’re so obsessed with finding it. Sometimes when you can’t find something, you just have to stop, you just have to take a breath, and you tell yourself, ‘I know I’ve only got five seconds, but you’ve got to breathe through this. Now let’s go through it.’ And that’s what was fun about playing Chauvelin for me, was, I wanted to play him like a danger. He was smart and he smelled it all around him. But that’s what made Percy so brilliant. In that period of time, when men did battle, they stood out on an open field and they went head-to-head. And the most talented man was the one still standing. They didn’t hide in the bushes. They didn’t hide behind façade characters. They didn’t do that. And that’s how Percy constantly kept him off the scent. It’s how Hamlet kept everybody off the scent of him, by playing mad. Because people didn’t do that. And Polonius is always made out to be a dolt. He’s not, in my opinion. He’s a smart man. He smells it. He just can’t find it. And Hamlet knows he’s looking, so he keeps him off the scent by throwing him this personality, this madness, that will keep him repelled long enough for him to do his job. And with Percy, it’s the same kind of thing. He keeps throwing this thing in front of him that he knows will repel this man quicker than the man will pick up on the scent.

Now, if I had had my way really, with that show, we would have gone back in a really worked on the book a little bit more. But by this time, it was the third rendition, and nobody really wanted to take that kind of energy out again. I had talked to Nan Knighton about some of the lyrics. I said, "Nan, these don’t make sense." And she said, "You’re the first person that’s ever even said this to me." Just in little places here and there. It’s interesting, in some ways I didn’t think some of the lyrics made sense. In other ways, I felt the lyrics had made more sense that I think anyone else had felt they made. I remember people would say to me, "That ‘Falcon in the Dive,’ song, man. That song’s awful." I’d be, like, "Are you kidding? It’s beautiful." How interesting for such a visceral man, for an impetuous man to be so poetic and so self-aware. It says a lot about somebody. I’ve said he’s the only character in the show that really understands his place and his plight. Who really is so self-aware and understands how unhappy he is with the particular position that he’s in, but also understands that there is a way for him to go beyond it. I thought that that was great. It showed such intelligence. People: " ‘Where’s the Girl?’ Oh, that cheesy song. That Love Boat song." I’m, like, "Unh-uh." And I remember when we worked on it, there used to be a drum beat in it, which is what gave it that ’70s sound. And I asked Frank, "Please, can we take the drum out of it? Let me be what’s percussive in it." And so then it ended up just being strings, and suddenly this song is gorgeous. And they’re, like, "You’ve got to seduce her here." I said, "No, I don’t. I don’t have to do anything. All I have to do is speak these words, and the truth of the words are what seduce her." It’s just seductive. When you try to be seductive, there’s nothing seductive about that. But what he’s saying is seductive to her because they’re truth in it. And that’s his form of romanticism. It’s his one really vulnerable moment on that stage. When he opens his heart and says, "Here I am. Don’t you remember this? This is who you are. This is who we are. How can you deny this?" I mean, I loved singing "Where’s the Girl?" Especially with [co-star] Carolee [Carmello], it was just so much fun. Such a beautiful moment. It just drew the audience in because suddenly you care about these people. You’re like, "Oh. OK. There’s something going on here." To the point where some people think, ‘Damn. I wanted her to go with you,’ which is exactly what they should feel. Just because you’re the villain doesn’t mean that from the beginning doesn’t mean you should know the end. It’s like 1776. What a great musical, because we all know how it ends. But, my God, the journey there, we never knew, we never fathomed. Halfway through that show, you’re going, ‘Did we actually sign the Declaration of Independence?’ And that’s when you know you’ve got an audience. So when it finally gets to where you know you’re going, you go, "Holy shit, what a trip. What a trip!"

ZVB: So it’s one of those it’s-the-journey-rather-than-the-destination things, then?

MK: Of course. Every musical is that. Every musical is that. That’s why, in some ways, it’s way easier to do a new musical rather than it is to do a revival, because in a revival there’s already expectations. You already know it. And I think, and I said this to a critic that I know. I said, "Did you read the script of Bells before you came and saw it?" "Well, I already know Bells." I said, "No, you don’t. However, you think you do, but did you remind yourself of it? When was the last time you saw Bells? You probably watched the film, which is not the play." I said, "When did you remind yourself of the script again?" Because you have this idea, this icon in your head that’s become legendary. And you may forget that it’s not legendary. Go back, read the script, and go, "Oh. Oh, this is Bells." Then you’re fresh. I mean, you don’t want to read a new play. You want that to be a new experience. That I understand. But it’s easy, because you’re not going to be compared to anything.

ZVB: Just to change gears a little bit, I want to back up to Beauty and the Beast for a bit. When you played Gaston, did you have more of a cartoon-y feel to it, or more of a human side?

MK: No. Oh, way more human. Way more human. When I came into the mix, it was, like, eight months after it had opened, so the show was still fresh and it was still the original company. When I came in and started to rehearse, I was very clear about what I wanted to go for. Like, in rehearsal, they’d be, like, "Well, Burke does this," and I’m like, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, but let me try this. Let me just give this a whirl. I mean, I know that Burke does that and it’s great, but let me find what’s organic for me here." And they were really cool with me. I think they trusted me. Of course, Burke had given them the formula for Gaston. Burke gave everybody the formula of Gaston. He gave them a style and he gave them a structure and he gave them a physicality that was fabulous and so uniquely that character. You know, I was up for the role originally, but I think I was a little too real, and they wanted hyped and styled, and I didn’t quite know what it was and they didn’t quite know how to express it because they weren’t sure themselves. And then, of course, Burke came in and he gave them the formula. He said, "Is it this?" And they went, "My God, that’s it." And that’s what’s great about originating a role: it’s that you give them something that they didn’t think about and it’s your own stamp. So I took what he gave them and then I added my sense of reality on top of it. And at first, they were a little daunted by it. Ultimately, I think they discovered it’s what infused the character even more.

I remember they used to try to lighten me up in the first act. They loved my second act, because I was dangerous then. But in the first act, even being light and fun, I still had edge. But I always said to them, "Why are you afraid of this edge?" And the thing that I loved about the character was the sexuality of it, which is something they were always nervous about. And I said, "Why? Why are you nervous of it? It’s a part of what it is." I’m sorry, but that relationship between Gaston and LeFou … sorry. It is what it is. I didn’t play on that, but I didn’t not play on it, either. There was something very dominant and submissive about that relationship, and there was this certain sexuality to this character that I liked. They wanted me to play him stupid. I said, "This is not a stupid man." He’s just so vain, he doesn’t get – like I said to the director, he said, "When she called you ‘positively primeval,’" he said, "you seem to understand what that word means. You shouldn’t." I said, "Of course I understand what that means." He said, "What do you mean? Gaston is not that smart." I said, "Absolutely he is. It’s how he defines himself. That’s what’s funny." No one could possibly be insulting him. He’s so vain; no one could be insulting him. And primeval? Oh, yeah (seductive growl). So, it’s funnier because not only is it’s meant as an insult, but he takes it as a compliment and it becomes an even worse situation for her than him just kind of going, "Why, thank you." Like, ‘What does that mean? It must be a compliment." No no no no. It’s much more interesting when he’s, like, "Thank you (seductive come-hither noise)." So, that I liked. That I enjoyed, because when she finally does call him out, you see that petulant child who wants to do nothing but hurt. And that’s dangerous. Anyone that’s hurt is dangerous. Anyone that is given pain is dangerous. Because you’re going to get their real side, especially someone like Gaston. Embarrass him, hurt him, take away that image that he has so worked hard to promote, and he will hurt you for it. I mean, that’s what I loved about it. My God, he doesn’t stab the Beast once, he stabs him twice just to make sure he gets it in there right. That’s kind of sick.

Now, maybe I’m taking it a little further, but I think you should, especially if you’re going to do it onstage. I mean, I’m sorry, but I used to do, "antlers in all of my dec-orating," and they’d say to me, "It’s too gay." And I’d be, like, "Are you kidding me? Have you seen the film? He’s a huge flame at that moment. Come on! Let him go there." And not that I was being gay, but flamboyant. I think that’s a part of who that man is. They used to stop me from doing so much stuff, and then six months, a year down the line, I’d see other guys doing that very stuff they didn’t want me to do, because they had got that that was good; that that was possible. So much of that character is double-meaning. And I think that they’d be afraid of the sexuality because there’d be kids there. And I’d say, "You know, the kids aren’t going to get it. The kids will get the physical humor. They’ll get the ‘boonk-bonk-bing-bing-bing.’" I said, "The adults will get the sexual humor, and that’s who I’m doing it for." And for the truth, the truth of that show. So that not only the kids, but the adults, all of them will be enwrapped in the story. Because I love Beauty. I think it’s great. I actually just went back and saw it not long ago again. I went and saw Seussical in the afternoon and then I went and saw Beauty and the Beast, and I was, like, ‘Man. I’m telling you. The artistic group from Seussical needs to go across the street and see how this shit is done.’ Because it’s great. I think Beauty is a great show. I think it beats the shit out of Lion King and Aida.

ZVB: Oh, really? You’d go that so far to say that?

MK: Oh, yeah. I think that there’s really clever stuff in Lion King. I think Julie Taymor is wonderfully brilliant, but you can see the dichotomy between what she was going for and what Disney would allow and would not allow. The first act should’ve ended with the death of Mufasa and the second act should have started with Simba. Disney didn’t want that to happen. I mean, and that’s only obvious. They were, like, "We can’t end our first act on a dark note like that." So, of course, they have to bring Timon and Pumbaa in it right at the end of the first act so that it’s happy. That’s stupid. Tell your story. Don’t apologize.

ZVB: You’ve also done several readings for musicals. How do you like working on shows that are still being developed?

MK: That’s the best part. That’s what I love more than anything. I love the structure. I love the process. I love putting it together, finding the truth, finding the pattern, the logic, all that good stuff, putting it together. Because then, like, a couple of months after that, I’m ready to try work on something else. Yeah, I love it. I’ve been working. Manhattan Theatre Club’s got me busy, a lot, doing that stuff, and I love it. And I love that they love me being there that way.

ZVB: Isn’t that kind of weird? Only, a tiny portion of people get to see these readings, so there’s really no glory there.

MK: Oh, there’s glory there. A different kind. The glory is being a part of the process. The glory is being a part of the collaborative force. There are two reasons why people get in this business: they get in for the celebrity or they get in it for the work. I’m in it for the work. I don’t give a shit what people think about me. I care what they think about my work ethic, about my integrity for what I do. I don’t have an ego; I’m not a self-promoter. People would interview me and say, "So how does it feel to have your name in lights." And I’d, say, "Honestly, half of it’s really cool and half of it’s really horrific." "Oh, come on!" "No! I mean that." I’m not a self-promoter. I’m not about me. I’m not about, ‘Hey! Look at me on stage!’ I’m, like, ‘Hey. Check this out. Check out what I’m doing up here. Check out the character. Check out the story. Check out what we’re trying to tell you here.’ That’s what I like. I love it. It’s awesome fun, man. And it’s such an honor to be asked to help structure a new piece that way. And I love that Manhattan Theatre Club just asked me to do Joe!; I’m doing a reading of a Charles Busch play they’re thinking about remounting playing opposite of Charles, and I love that Charles wanted me there, and then they wanted me to do another workshop of another musical after that. It’s, like, anything that they’ve got going on, if there’s anything that I’m remotely right for, they want me there. And I love that. I love that they respect for the craftsman that I am. There’s nothing better than that, man. Awards don’t mean dick. Anyone can be nominated for anything. It’s politics, and it’s the moment. But it’s the longevity of what we do. That’s all politics. It’s an interesting thing, because it is a part of the business; you can’t deny that. Like this year, it was a difficult year. There were a lot of leading men. I thought that I did really good work, but again, it wasn’t that kind of role that was going to merit that kind of attention. Like, for those that were aware of the work or aware of what I was doing with it, that was one thing. But a lot of time that’s not what people see. They just see an end result. And it’s the stuff that draws attention to itself. And I don’t do that on the stage. I don’t draw attention to me. I do the character. And if you find it fun, great. My next gig, that will be the accolade one. And I’m not trying announce something before – and I mean this honestly: it has nothing to do with me. It has to do with the kind of show it is; it has to do with the kind of role it is.

ZVB: And this is Thoroughly Modern Millie, right?

MK: Yup. But it’s not about me. Like, it’s weird; it’s not about me. I will do the same kind of work that I always do. It’s a character that’s accessible, it’s not edgy, it’s not terribly complex, it’s not uneasy, it’s a certain style – Millie is a style like 42nd Street, like The Boyfriend – that ‘20s style, although it doesn’t wink at itself. It’s not campy, but it’s still in a style that always allows you to be aware that it is entertainment. Which gives us the freedom to be truthful and to do acting, because the style already allows you in safely. It already says, ‘This is an entertainment.’ And Trevor is open, he’s warm, he’s the sweetest guy on the face of the planet. And there’s a certain expectation that will absolutely be achieved as to who he is. And then I’ll give you shit that you’ve never thought of. But you’re expectations will be fulfilled. You’ll be able to go, "Aha! That’s who that guy is!" And that will never change through the show. He’ll always be that guy you think he is. He’ll just – I’ll just – give you more color of that guy. It’s not going to be like Jackie where you go, "Aha! That’s who that is," and then he’s not.

ZVB: Finally, it seems you take your job really seriously?

MK: I do. It’s weird, though. I take it very seriously, but at the same time, I’m absolutely from the hip. I take my craft seriously; I take my technique and my discipline seriously. I don’t take myself seriously … not that seriously. Like I say, it’s about the work. It’s not about me. So I don’t give a shit what I look like doing it. I don’t care what people think of me. It’s about the work. And I’m very clear about it. But, then, I don’t see how you can be a successful craftsman in this business if you don’t. And then there’s the business outside the work, because, unfortunately, now very little of it has to do with work. 42nd Street winning best revival, it was about a lot of other things outside of ‘was that show truly the best revival.’ I mean, look at The Producers. Is it a good show? Yes. Is it an amazingly great show? Well, that, each to his own. I don’t think it’s a great musical; I think it’s great time. But it is what it is: it’s entertainment. Not everything is that. I just want things to be done well, no matter what they are. The Producers is well done. For the kind of entertainment that it is, it is well done. My argument to critics is: everything is not that. I thought The Wild Party that we did was incredibly well done, but it’s a very different form of theatre. And I had a big discussion with a critic about this. He’s like, "Well, Marc, you’re paid to entertain." I said, "Yes, but now you’d better define that word, entertainment. There are many forms of entertainment." Going to a musical is entertainment. Riding on a roller coaster for some people is entertainment. To other people, it’s fucking crazy. I said, "So what are you defining as entertainment? You can’t say entertainment is what you find to be entertainment. You have to have a wider perspective than that."

Note from FreakyMartian: The above interview received very mixed responses, not unlike reviews of Marc's performances on Broadway in the past. Many were impressed by the amount of depth and thought he put into his answers. But on various internet forums many people were also offended by Marc's usage of the term "personality performer" (vs. "actor") when referring to theatre legends like Alfred Drake and Larry Kert, in addition to the original Jeffrey Moss, Sydney Chaplin, and not understanding that he was not using the term as an insult, referred to him as arrogant and egotistical. One of the people who stated the offense he took at Marc's opinions was Jon Conrad, a music professor at UDel. He posted the following apology he received from Marc to the theatre usenet newsgroup a week after the interview was posted.

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