While there’s nothing to indicate that Sondheim influenced Larry Kunfosky’s Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary in any way (in fact, extensive interviews with Larry Kunofsky beforehand never once included references to The Man or the the musical I’m about to cite) we all have our own personal archives.   To me, there was an undeniable Company element (albeit an updated one) which manifested early on and lingered for most of the play.  Perhaps unintentionally Kunofsky has, in Your Boyfriend, offered up the city which Another Hundred People paid (somewhat contemptuous) homage to – the “city of strangers” with the people who “meet at parties through the friends of friends who they never know”. And as main character Marci spends the night living out the line: “I looked in vain”, another hundred people just got off of the train.

In other words – New York and its parties and crowds and social pecking order hasn’t really changed much in the 40 years since Sondheim wrote of the swarming masses of New Yorkers who gather and pretend to socialize when really they’re just desperately trying to be seen, and be seen being seen.   Your Boyfriend tosses main character Marci (an absolutely perfect Darcy Fowler) into this muddle of humanity although (by her own affectation and admission) it’s the last club in which she’s interested in truly having membership.  She’s only out on this buzzing Saturday night because it’s her six month anniversary with her boyfriend and (despite plans) he’s MIA.  His lack of phone, real address and other oddities give her little choice but to brave a tenuous labyrinth of  parties in order to seek out acquaintances who may or may not know where her “off-the-grid” boyfriend may be.  However, since Marci herself is a bit off the grid no one quite believes that this relationship exists – even as one character, Beth, concedes “Her story is elaborate.  Even if it’s fictional it’s layered … and that in and of itself is a feat.”

Clearly Marci’s not a party girl, so these parties are more hostile than hospitable to her skittish temperament.  She tries to remain as invisible as possible (“I’m not here” is her mantra of the evening) … the idea is to just get what she needs and get out. In fact,  she’s so out of her element that it hadn’t even occurred to her to dress for her destinations.  She’s wearing what she slept in, which is what she wore the day before, and she has no compunction admitting that she hasn’t showered.    This is just one of the quirks which sets Marci apart from this writhing mass of cell phones and hot music and cool eccentricity she continually encounters which hums and babbles and hugs and waves and clumps together and breaks apart but does little to actually connect on any level that matters.

“It’s kind of like Alice in Wonderland,” Kunofsky had said in his interview with me, “if Alice were an adult, had a boyfriend, couldn’t find him, and jumped into the Rabbit Hole that is all the parties that people are having in the Big City on a happening Saturday night.” And while there is a fish-out-0f-water element that parallels Alice’s there is also no denying that the “other”ness of Marci is an echo of what so many city-dwellers feel and have felt since … since they began admitting their feelings to their therapists.  But not to their friends.

Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary featuring Zach Evenson, Debargo Sanyal, & Darcy Fowler Photo credit Meg Sturiano

Marci is one main character – the other main character is not so much a person but The Crowd itself which surrounds her.  This crowd of ubiquity babbles random things, snatches of which can be heard during scene changes, and it’s the random stuff that’s funny and inconsequential and yet somehow very important; because in this miasma of humanity where Marci is sifting and searching, these snatches of words are as valuable as anything else she will hear.  In other words: not very valuable at all.

Sometimes bits of the crowd break off to interact with her, but for the most part The Crowd remains a solid mass of something she not only cannot penetrate but – more importantly – something she wishes to have no part in.  While she’s present she’s certainly not included.  Those giving the parties would have her believe otherwise; there’s the self-centered Cassandra who - surprised to see Marci – greets her with a “Marci! I’m sorry I haven’t called or seen you or kept in touch with you in any way.  I’m so glad you’re here.” It’s like this everywhere she goes: she keeps being assured that she was invited … informally of course because really the process is so random.  More of a “you know you’re always welcome, even though we actually haven’t talked to you in … what?  Four years?” And another hundred people just got off of the train.

Cassandra (played by Risa Sarachan)  is vain and self-centered, she preens and pouts and simultaneously demands your attention while dismissing you. She has nothing to offer Marci except a lamp which Marci then carries with her throughout the play.  What seems like an odd and superfluous gesture is really a symbol of all the empty, unnecessary (and useless) pieces of comfort New Yorkers so often exchange – it’s an “OhMyGodI’mSoSorryYou’reGoingThroughThis” and a “LetMeKnowIfYouNeedAnything / WhatCanIDoToHelp?!?” empty token that, once offered, alleviates the giver of their guilt but is about as useful as … an unplugged bedside lamp in the streets of New York.

Marci, however, dutifully carries this pointless gift which serves partly as a talisman, partly as a flashlight which (unplugged after all) only underscores how useless it is at illuminating her way.  It is a metaphor for all her friends who don’t know how to help her becuase they can’t understand how she needs to be  helped.

Director Meg Sturiano makes some terrific choices that keeps the crowd feeling alive and pulsating while never being overwhelming for the small stage.  Sturiano keeps the pacing quick and energetic – allowing the surreal to coexist in the same arena as the real, which is the perfect way to encapsulate the New York scene. With repetitive moves that are distinctly choreographed to encompass everything an evening out might require (from “come here” to “go away”) Sturiano has the crowd speed up, slow down, and do exactly what Kunofsky requires of them without pulling focus from whatever may be going on at any given moment.  When necessary they fulfill the requirements of a Greek chorus, and even when not “in use”, they are never underutilized.

Characters bubble up from the crowd, distinguishing themselves, in order to move the plot along.  Besides the self-centered Cassandra there’s Toddwhatshisname (Debargo Sanyal) who is a Chelsea boy and comes complete with a trademark phrase and an inability to know his boundaries. Paul and Paula Paul (Jordan Mahome and Danielle Slavick)  make a charming couple who are just contentious enough to make you understand why the party they’re throwing is to celebrate their divorce, but just amicable enough to make you believe that they’d feel the need to celebrate this moment together rather than apart.  It’s here where Marci bumps into Hunky Dave (Quinlan Corbett) the man she’s been accused of stalking and the base-note that creates the whiff of “why don’t I believe you?” when it comes to Marci’s story about her missing beau.  Marci – so misunderstood by her “friends” – reads as desperate enough to concoct someone rather than live in the tragic wake of the rejection of a (hunky) man.

Ultimately this long evening wraps up with a shift in tempo and tone; Marci escapes the frey of the scene which exists OUT THERE and exchanges it for the one that exists IN HERE.  While the final scene serves as a calming ballast to the hectic frenetics which came before it, and while the conversation between Marci and her (perhaps only true) friend Denise (Maya Lawson) is sweet, endearing, and realer than any moment of the play, it does threaten to stretch out longer than a production of this length can handle and borders on overkill.  But then, just in time, the truly charming last few lines exchanged keep the play from toppling over.

In the end, You Boyfriend May Be Imaginary is a perfect reflection of the missed opportunities an overly social life can create.  It  illustrates the ironic fact that no matter how many people you surround yourself with, if you don’t make that connection on a deep level the person you’re telling everyone you are may as well be imaginary.

~~~

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Related Posts:

• Larry Kunofsky Take 2 … Still Imaginative – Nowhere Near Imaginary
• Outskirts of Eden: 10 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2016 FRIGID NEW YORK FESTIVAL)
• Why So Much Shame?: 10 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2016 FRIGID NEW YORK FESTIVAL)
• Basic Help (2014 Frigid New York Festival)
• Confessions Of A Redheaded Coffeeshop Girl: 10 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2014 FRIGID NEW YORK FESTIVAL)

You’ve read part one.  You clamored for another round!  What could be more fun that sitting in on a conversation between me and brilliant playwright Larry Kunofsky as we discuss the road that led to his upcoming production of Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary?

Last time Larry explained how everyone has an imaginary component (in a way) … and he explained how his main character, Marci, spends a Saturday evening running from party to party in New York City looking for the man she’s dating — only to discover she possibly didn’t know him as well as she thought she did.  We also got into what lies at the heart of Larry’s writing. Good stuff!

Today we’re talking about how Larry and The Management came to partner up for Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary,  Larry references Tolstoy AND Voltaire (in the same answer!) and gives us a little taste of what your dinner conversation will be like after you see his play.  So, grab your drink, settle in, and enjoy … Larry Kunofsky, Part 2:

Let’s talk for a minute about finding the right company to produce your work. Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary is being produced by The Management. What are some of the great things about having another company produce your work as opposed to doing it through your own company, Purple Rep?

Well don’t get me wrong, I am committed to Purple Rep and have grown to love producing, even though I know that I’m not anywhere near the kind of producer that I want to become just yet. But having someone else produce my play – which is something that hasn’t happened in a while on my own home turf here in NYC – that ROCKS!

I feels so decadent! I can be Just The Playwright! I feel like a Roman Emperor! Where are the slave girls to dangle grapes over my gaping mouth?!

And if you knew The Management’s budget, you’d be laughing at me here, not with me (which you might have been doing already). This is not a decadent company. They are workers, and they have a guerrilla approach to doing more with less (in terms of budget, at least), and this is inspiring to me. When Purple Rep grows up, I want it to be just like The Management. But also different.

I have been Just The Playwright in the room at other times in my career and have felt a weird compulsion to get up and apologize for being there. But not with The Management. They were excited about me and by my work from the beginning, and their sincerity and warmth in making me feel welcome in their “home” has never wavered – just as the rigor of their talents has never seemed to diminish.

Purple Rep is still evolving (and is designed to have an ever-floating repertory of theatre artists on board), and everyone who takes part in a Purple Rep project is in our home because I opened the door and asked them to come in. With The Management, there was already a family in this home, and I’m the guest. But I love this family. I’m very familiar with Josh’s work as a playwright and with Megan Hill’s work as an actor. And to have them involved in the production of my play is deeply meaningful to me.

Working with The Management has allowed me to collaborate with director Meg Sturiano and to get to know her as an artist and human being. This has been among the very most satisfying aspects of this experience for me. Meg is an amazing director. Her process is so active, kinetic, muscular, and her approach and her spirit and her enthusiasm has been so nurturing and empowering.

But the whole family thing means more to me than the relief of not having to produce my play myself. Nicole & Josh Beerman just had a baby boy. And we looked at pictures during rehearsal the other day, and we were kvelling! Maybe I’ve been the curmudgeon-in-residence at other times in my life, but it has been so lovely to get to know this family and to be a guest in their home.

It seems that every off off Broadway production company I know of has some sort of mission statement that goes beyond “we do great plays” and fine tunes it down to: “We do plays centered on promoting XYZ” or “We produce plays that take place in a certain part of the world” or “a certain time in history” or “come from the perspective of X” As both a playwright – who looks to work with other companies – as well as someone who started his own production company, what are your thoughts about that? And did it make finding a company for Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary easier or more difficult?

Well the second part of this question is easier to answer, so I’ll start there:

The Management was actively looking for new plays by other playwrights. The first show of The Management that I saw was MilkMilk Lemonade by company member Josh Conkel (of whom I’ve already proclaimed my love), but starting last year with Crystal Skillman (if I say I love her, too, does this make me seem like I love everybody? [a little bit ... yes] Because I don’t, but when I do love somebody, and/or their work, I shout it from the rooftops, and I really do love Crystal) [Well then that's just necessary, I would say ...], and her play CUT, The Management was clearly looking beyond Josh and his work.

But I didn’t approach them, they approached me. Actually, they approached me after they approached Adam Szymkowicz.

Well, that’s quite an honor!  Like being the one Brad Pitt chose after he chose Jennifer Aniston …  That makes you Angelina.

Adam Szymkowicz is one of the finest playwrights I know, whose work is always elegant, funny, inventive, and heartbreaking. He also has a blog on which he interviews playwrights – and this blog has become an amazing resource, and a way to validate lots of lesser-known playwrights, as well as a way of informing the public about the inner workings of some better-known playwrights, too.

He also happens to be among my very favorite people in the world. I was the Best Man at his wedding, a fact that I never tire of informing people about.

I think originally, The Management asked Adam if he’d send them one of his own plays, but somehow that didn’t work out (I think the dude has, like, FIVE off-Off Broadway plays lined up, which has got to be a record!), and then I think he suggested his wife, Kristen Palmer’s play The Heart In Your Chest, which I think The Management is strongly interested in, but it might have been too daunting for this season. And so then Adam suggested that they read Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary.

I don’t think that The Management knew back then what a close friend I am to Adam, and so they figured, wow, this dude Adam’s interviewed hundreds of playwrights, and then he just throws the name Larry Kunofsky out there, so this dude Kunofsky must be the fanciest playwright in town.

I know that’s what I would think!

Which, of course, is hilarious, because I am so not fancy.

Well, a little bit.  Some times you’re a little bit fancy.  But I’m sorry … go on …

And so then, Meg Sturiano, Management company member and director-in-residence emailed me, asking for the script.

Now, I have a personal ethic about rapid response to all communications, both personal and professional. If you contact me, whoever you are, I will get back to you within a day, or I will commit Seppuku or something.

Damn, Larry.  That’s hardcore.

There must be something Calvinist hidden within my Modern Orthodox Jewish upbringing.

Oh, wait … you said “seppuku”.  I thought you said … ah … never-mind.  Keep going …

However, when Meg first wrote to me, I was in rehearsals for The Un-Marrying Project during the first season of Purple Rep. And I was trying to wear all these hats on my one head: playwright, Artistic Director, “Producer,” money-borrower, favor-caller-in-er, plumber, etc., that I actually took a couple days to get back to Meg, whom I hadn’t even met, and, really, this goes against the very core of my belief system, but Meg didn’t know that, so she must have figured, wow, this dude is so fancy that he doesn’t even want me to read his work, which is hilarious because I used to spend way too much time BEGGING for directors and producers to read my work.

So Meg wrote back in this really humble way, apologizing for asking to read my script again, but if the very notion wasn’t too offensive to me, it would be an honor for her just to hear back from me, or something like that. And then I was just too embarrassed about the whole thing to even acknowledge how I violated my own ethics in my rapid-responsibilities. So I just emailed her the play with, I think, no comment. Which probably made me seem even more aloof and remote.

I’m on the edge of my seat  … I can’t wait to hear what happens next!

But then Meg and the company read the script, and they actually liked it, and then they met me in person, and we hung out, and they realized that I wasn’t really a jerk, it just seemed that way via email. And then we started working together.

All of that is not to suggest that one should act like a jerk on purpose, because chances are, you will be successful at coming across as a jerk that way. I was just illustrating how, despite so many conflicting factors at play, it was the right place and the right time for me to collaborate with The Management.

Wow. That was just the answer to the second part. I haven’t even gotten to the first part. I may not be fancy, but I am verbose.

And, a bit hypnotic because at this point I’m not sure I remember my question.  I think it was about how every company has a fine-tuned mission statement and how does that affect you submitting your work to other companies.  But that was just a jumping off point.  Get around to it when it makes sense to.

I’m actually very bad at submitting my work to other companies, because I’ve been writing plays for a long time and it seems that the only way to get your work seen by the right people is when they come looking for you.

The problem with this philosophy is that this particular instance is the ONLY time this has ever worked out for me.

So I’ve got to get better at submitting my work to other companies. Both as an individual playwright with a bunch of unproduced plays, and as the Artistic Director of a (VERY!) small theatre company with a tiny budget (picture me walking around clothed only in a barrel held up by suspenders, because that’s my new look for next year) that is eager to co-produce with other individual artists and producing entities, my need to collaborate more with as many other theatre companies and theatre artists as possible is essential for me to remain even a blip near the radar screen.

The Off-Off Broadway scene is really, really happening right now. There are a lot of companies doing really, really fine work. I love Flux Theatre Ensemble and The Amoralists, and Nosedive, and Packawallop, and Boomerang, and Blue Coyote, and Rising Phoenix Rep, and whatever’s happening at The Brick is always exciting, to name just the companies I didn’t have to spend even one second thinking about.

When I look back at the last sentence I just wrote, I don’t really think about the “sensibility” or the “aesthetics” of these companies, I think about how I love the plays that these people produce, the playwrights, actors, directors, designers who tend to work with these companies, and basically, I like the people who work at these companies. I dig them as people. I grok them, if you will. (I use that word in a lot of my plays. Look it up. Seriously.)

I’ll do you one better:

I think that’s really what it’s about. And yet, these companies do have a very specific sensibility and aesthetic, and my own company, Purple Rep, most emphatically does, too!

But it’s important to remember that when I become interested in a theatre company (and I think this is true for most people), it’s rare that I care first and foremost about their mission statement. If I like the plays that the company produces (and they have to produce, not just develop! Because institutionalized Play Development is the NINTH CIRCLE OF HELL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), and I like the people involved, then I’m interested. But it’s good when a company has a very clear mission. It makes them look like they know what they’re talking about.

There’s another lovely tension between the idea that everyone working consistently Off-Off Broadway is part of (in a sense) one company, and the fact that, as it appears on the surface, different companies do different things. Another way of saying this is: the Off-Off Broadway community (in which I am deeply honored and proud to participate) is often just a bunch of tiny communities. And other times, it really is one community. And that tension gives us balance; it’s a good thing that both things are true. Sometimes the tiny company- or project-based communities are like ghettos, but their separate-ness brings diversity and richness to what we do. So sometimes I’ll work in my little Purple Rep shtetl or visit the ‘hood around the corner. As an Artistic Director, I aim towards a fidelity to the ideals on which my company was founded, but as a playwright, I have a more promiscuous attitude – I want to crawl into bed with all kinds of companies. Please Note: This last bit is a metaphor. I don’t want theatre companies considering my work to think that sleeping with me is a requirement.

Noted.

Karen, do you think anyone is still reading this at this point?

Well, I am.  You are.  Presumably Adam Szymkowicz stuck around.

I mean, it was a great question, but the answer makes War And Peace look like a novella. But to paraphrase Voltaire, I didn’t have time to give you a short answer, so I only gave you a long answer.

Look at me.

It’s come to this now.

I’m the guy who goes around paraphrasing Voltaire.

Sometimes I worry about myself.

Back to your play. I’m going to give you a scenario. A group of friends go to see your play and then go out to dinner afterwards. What do you think they will find the most interesting part of the play to chew on over dinner? What will be that one point that they all either have varying opinions on, or the one part that (hopefully) gives them the most to think about?

Well I like to personally attend all the performances (or as many as possible) of my plays in production, so since I’ll be there, I think that this group will no doubt speak, to some degree, about my play, at least at first, but then they will no doubt spend the rest of their evening remarking upon how strikingly handsome I am. Sure, the guy’s talented, I can hear them saying, but damn, he’s SO GOOD LOOKING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Can we see that picture again?

Oh wait, does this imaginary scenario take place in something similar to reality?  Well, I wasn’t specific, but let’s go with “yes”. If so, I feel that I should revise my answer.  Not necessary, but I won’t be the one to stop you.

Honestly, I think that this is the PERFECT question for this play in particular.  Thank you.

There’s no intermission in this play, so it’s technically a full-length one-act, but there are two very separate parts of the play, both with distinct energies. It starts out pretty manic and antic and frenzied and kooky and almost dreamlike and surreal, and surreal in a way that feels almost hyper-real, and then it gets MORE manic and MORE antic and MORE frenzied and MORE kooky (or kookier) and MORE dreamlike and surreal and hyper-real, but then… after all of that… it shifts gears.

As the play winds down (after it gets to a point where you think it might run off the rails), as the play begins to prepare you to usher yourselves out into the night, the play becomes quieter and slower and softer of tone and spirit and more wistful and more somber, but also still funny, but funny in a whole different way.

And this new and different energy that the play finds in itself becomes almost like a whole second act, or perhaps even a whole other play entirely.

And I think that’s what people will be talking about later that evening. That transformation. And how… transformative…. It was. I really do!

How the play was one thing, and how it reached a fever pitch of that one thing, and how it then became another thing altogether. And how those energies affected them, these imaginary friends of yours, and, one hopes, the actual audience, as well.

Maybe some people won’t dig it, that shift. But I bet some people will. And perhaps some people will greatly prefer one of these two energies to the other. But I bet some people might connect deeply to the way that the energy went one way and then went another way. Maybe this evening of theatre and its shifting energy will remind people of the day they just had. Because some days are like that. And personally, any day when I see a play that has its own distinct energy, it changes the rhythm of my whole day. I know that theatre – really great theatre – can change your life. My simple hope is that my play will just change your day. In a good way, of course. And I want to say one more time that, yes, this is what I truly expect people to be talking about after they’ve seen my play.

But all my plays are about intimacy and tenderness and the need to connect, and how DIFFICULT all these things can be, and so if all I do with my life is to help generate the conversation of strangers towards these themes, then, despite what my teachers predicted, I won’t have been a complete and total screw-up.

Bonus Question! (but mandatory). You can answer this last one any way you want – it’s free form! Leave me with some last thoughts about the play, tell me a joke, give me a recipe, create a haiku, promote your favorite cause … tell me the best purchase you ever made. Really, the sky is the LIMIT! Anything that you feel like sharing - GO!

I’ll just say one more thing:

The last time I saw you, you told me that I was your favorite playwright.

I stopped you, and said, REALLY?! (Because I had to double-check. We had both been drinking.)

And you said, yes, you, Larry Kunofsky, are my favorite playwright.

And I responded to that by saying, I bet you say that to all the playwrights! But I think that was my way of being un-ready to handle the compliment you were giving me.

So I have a follow-up question that I will both ask of you and then answer for you:

Question: Do you know what that means to me?!

Answer: Everything. It means everything to me.

_______________

Well, the conversation doesn’t end there, but the interview does, my lovelies!  So — now that this 2 part interview has stimulated your brain and given you all sorts of breadcrumbs about Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary don’t forget to mark your calendars and buy your tickets now.  And be sure to stop back and read the review!

~~~

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Related Posts:

• Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary – A Epic Quest Through Another Hundred People
• Larry Kunofsky – Unimaginably Imaginative. But NOT Imaginary – Take 1
• A Play Takes Flight – The Making Of “Caitlin And The Swan”
• The Myths We Need -Or- How To Begin: The Play You Need To See
• The Un-Marrying Project: Passion Is Easy – Commitment Is Hard

You may think my life is all about going to shows, sitting in the dark, absorbing — going back home … writing reviews.  It is NOT.  My life is about highlighting, showcasing and celebrating the talented people of the independent entertainment world that I am lucky enough to experience.   I only know how to do that one way: by knowing their work first, and then – if it works out – by meeting them for interviews, then seeing them socially … then interviewing them again.  It helps when I can know the artist from the inside out – Know Them: Know Their Work.  In turn: Know Their Work … Understand How To Distill It To An Audience.  Voila - suddenly it’s all second nature.

Larry Kunofsky and I started out like any playwright/reviewer.  But we soon learned that we had a lot to say to each other. A LOT.  Larry is many things: a playwright, a thinker, a brilliant man.  He’s as much an interviewer as an interviewee, and that’s what makes for a good give and take.  In a few weeks The Management Theater Company will be doing his play Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary. I had a lot to ask him.  He had a lot to tell me.  As a result I ended up with a two parter – and so did you, lucky reader.  So, grab a drink and get ready to find out why New York City on a Saturday Night can be like falling down the rabbit hole, read why every relationship has an imaginary component to it,  and, if Feist gets mentioned, play some of her music as you read. That’s what the link is for.

Love the title: Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary.

Larry Kunofsky: Thanks, Karen. I won’t deny it, some of my titles are pretty nifty. I’ll let people like you speak to the merits of the plays themselves, but I hope that you and your readers will indulge me my little self-back-patting when it comes to Title-Pride.

If a play is sex, then a good title is foreplay. And if giving good foreplay is my legacy, I’ll accept my lot in life.

And we’re off!

Truthfully, Larry – How many imaginary boyfriends do you think are floating around out there? I bet in New York alone there are THOUSANDS. What’s your ballpark figure?

LK: I’ve never met any adult who has admitted to having an imaginary boyfriend or girlfriend. I think there are probably scores of undocumented cases of such things, but how would we quantify this? It’s kind of like trying to find out how many people cheat on their taxes.

Wait. Just got an idea for a play. An Internal Emotional Revenue Service that documents the love that we feel for others. A society in which intimacy is taxed. And your imaginary boyfriends need to be declared. That could be the next play… written by somebody else. That’s a terrible idea!

Frankly, I’ve heard worse.

LK: Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary is not really about imaginary people. And in general, I’m much more interested in how we imagine our actual partners to be. Y’know what I mean?

No.  Tell me more.

LK: Whenever friends talk to me about their partners, it always feels so intimate, since I will never see their partners the way that they do. And perhaps we never really know how our significant others talk about us, so we ourselves are always alien to the imaginary versions of us. And then – not that I’m conducting any kind of social experiment here, but it is something that I notice a lot – I find myself comparing my firsthand knowledge of the boyfriend or girlfriend or Otherfriend in question to the version of this same person as described to me by their partners. This can often create a fascinating disconnect.

I think that even the most aware and truthful and pragmatic of lovers can’t help but impose their own meaning of their partners onto their actual partners. So, in essence, all our boyfriends and girlfriends and friends in general are imaginary, because we sometimes see the idealized version of them, and sometimes (maybe when we’re cranky and having arguments in the middle of the street; although I’ve never been party to such base behavior) we see our partners in the most hypercritical and uncomplimentary ways.

But the key to any adult relationship is getting to know the other person beyond our own perspective. It’s a yin-and-yang thing. You need to split the difference between how you see the one you love and how the one you love sees her-/himself. To love and to be loved in any meaningful way involves factoring in all these versions of one another and striving towards our most truthful selves.

I think I was putting something together there, but it all fell apart like Jenga. My brain just slapped me in the face.

No no … it stuck.  Not every Jenga brick fell to the ground. Okay.  So, theoretically, everyone is imaginary when they’re being thought of more highly than they are, or demonized somehow … the real person is somewhere in the middle of the huge pendulum swing.  I  got it.

So then, what’s going on here then? What makes everyone suspicious that this boyfriend may be imaginary? Tell me a little bit about this play and what made you write it.

LK: Ah, now I can just plug the bejeebus out of this play!

Great!

You’re Welcome, The Management!

Thanks, Karen – you’re good.

Okay.

“It’s a busy, happening Saturday night in the Big City, and everyone we know is having a party in their apartment. Apartments! Parties! People! Music! Dancing! Cell Phones! Flashbulbs! Making Out! Longing.”

Those are the opening stage directions for the script of Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary.

We’re following Marci, a woman of good character but of low standing in the society and mini-societies within this play, as she goes from party after party looking for her missing boyfriend, or at the very least, some information that would lead her to find her boyfriend.

It’s kind of like Alice in Wonderland, if Alice were an adult, had a boyfriend, couldn’t find him, and jumped into the Rabbit Hole that is all the parties that people are having in the Big City on a happening Saturday night.

I love that.

LK: Everyone Marci encounters apologizes to her for being so busy and so out of touch. At first it seems that Marci has failed to connect with the other people in her life, but along her search, we see that everyone around her is failing and failing again to connect with anyone and everyone.

And the more Marci enquires into the whereabouts of this boyfriend that no one has ever met, the more people suspect that Marci doesn’t really have a boyfriend.

And so not only does Marci need to find her boyfriend, she has to find someone who believes her, or believes in her. And the more “clues” that she discovers about her missing boyfriend, the more Marci realizes that she’s not only looking for where her boyfriend is, but also, and even more importantly, who her boyfriend is. And these questions make her wonder who she, herself is, and where she is right now, within her own life.

It’s funny.

It’s sad.

It has mysteries and discoveries.

It has love between boyfriends and girlfriends, and it also has love within relationships that we don’t even have names for yet.

That’s Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary.

Thank you for asking.

Really.

I’m so proud of The Management and the phenomenal ensemble for this production.

When I hear “your boyfriend may be imaginary” to me, that’s a very different subtext than “You’re lying! You don’t have a boyfriend!” It’s actually very gentle, cautious … like you’re approaching the person with a comfy blanket and some cocoa, hoping not to disturb the fantasy. Am I wrong? Are the people in this play warm, fuzzy blanket people trying to help, or are they those buzz kills just trying to be balloon poppers?

LK: This question speaks so much to my philosophy on how to be a real friend.

My mother always used to say, whenever anyone screwed up or said or did something stupid: “They mean well.” And the older I get, the more I do appreciate good intentions, and I really do see her point as deeply compassionate and forgiving.

But I also can’t deny that I find the well intentioned among us to be somewhat oppressive when they try to help us in the way they think we need to be helped (or loved, or treated in general), rather than in the way that we want them or need them to. It’s like asking someone for the time, and they give you instructions on how to build a watch.

Ha!

LK: So this is a play about someone who needs something very specific from people, but who is mostly given the other person’s version of what they think she needs, rather than what she’s asking for.

And Marci, our heroine, seems to have a long history of not getting what she really needs from people. But since she needs to find her boyfriend, she forces herself to ask others for help. The fact that most people in Marci’s life don’t help her is (I think) among the funniest and most poignant aspects of the play, but the ultimate challenge for Marci is to allow others to help her in their way until she can find someone who can help her in her way. And I think that’s a challenge for all of us. Often what people give us is not really what we need from them, but it helps if you accept what people give you, just the same. At least some of the time. Because, like my mom says, “they mean well.”

There’s a song on Feist’s latest album that goes “When you comfort me / It doesn’t bring me comfort, actually.”

And I suspect that the subtext of this song is that the First Person Narrator is missing out on something profound.

My theory is that this person (and I somehow cannot accept that Feist is singing about herself here. I’m not entirely sure why, but I have a lot of strong feelings about Feist in general, so bear with me) refuses to face the challenge of being comforted.

Perhaps how we expect or want to be comforted is too complacent, and we have to get past an outmoded comfort zone in order to find true comfort.

Isn’t that a fascinating paradox?  (It is.) Do you have Feist’s email address? (I don’t.) She needs to know about this right away!   (Maybe she’s reading this …? Possibly? We have a lot of readers !)

The main characters in my plays are usually so put-upon in their struggles for basic kindness, intimacy, understanding, that this struggle (which I admit, seems on the surface to be common and ordinary) is, in itself, heroic.

It’s my way of turning the mundane into an Epic Quest. Because I always find the struggles of someone as seemingly ordinary as Marci in her search for her boyfriend to be far more compelling than someone like Sir Galahad searching for the Holy Grail. That’s just how I’m wired.

By the end of the play (Spoiler Alert: This is NOT a Spoiler!) Marci finds someone she can help and from whom she learns to accept help and comfort and intimacy and companionship in return.

Wow, that sounds really nice!

I was going to say that Larry.  So I will: That sounds really nice!

LK: Not all of my plays have happy endings.

This play has a lot of happiness in it. But I think people will cry at the end.

Maybe that makes me sound like I think I’m All-That-and-a-bag-of-chips (as if! Wait, who am I right now? I don’t really talk like this!), (You don’t.  But you’re on a roll. ) but when I see the lovely actors in this powerful ensemble really BRINGING IT in rehearsals, I get a little verklempt myself.

So bring a hankie to Under St. Marks.

But the good thing is, it’s a Happy Cry.

And sometimes we all need a good Happy Cry.

Sometimes?  I need a good Happy Cry every other Thursday.  So, looks like I can put away my Barry Manilow Somewhere Down The Road 45 the week I’m going to see your show.

Okay.  Moving on.

I’ve seen 2 of your plays so far: The Myths We Need – or – How To Begin and The Un-Marrying Project. On the surface both those plays were acres away from each other in terms of theme, but at the heart of it the pulse that drew the audience in was the 1:1 relationship between two people be it man and woman, man and man or woman and woman. So, would you say that Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary is similar?

Meaning – probably looks and feels different from your other works but has the same heart?

LK: This question makes me reflect deeply on the past year, Karen.

I haven’t known you all that long (even though we’ve become fast friends; a phenomenon that should happen more often between playwrights and reviewers! I mean, it’s one thing to give your friend’s work a good review, but it’s another to become good friends with someone whose work you respect and admire. And on the other end of that equation, it’s easy for me to let you in on my creative process, because I actually like talking to you and hanging out with you), but Boyfriend will be the third play of mine produced in NYC within a single year.

That’s very rare. I’m not sure I’ll be so privileged again anytime soon.

This fills me with both pride and humility.

I have some anxiety about the future of Purple Rep, my theatre company, and I also have some anxiety about finding more opportunities for myself as a playwright beyond my own company (and beyond New York City, for that matter).

But ultimately, when you’ve collaborated with the kind of talented people I’ve worked with this past year, you get really hungry for that kind of work and for those kinds of working relationships.

It freaks me out a little (not knowing where my next creative “meal” is coming from), but it also helps me focus on working for what I know will feed me, creatively – keeps my head in the game.

Maybe that was a bit of a tangent, but it was worth reflecting upon.

These three plays are a good cross-section of the kind of work that I do as a playwright.

The Un-Marrying Project plays with form (is it a film or a play or a film-within-a-play?) and is among the most politically engaged of my plays (it deals with the fight for Marriage Equality. And now it’s a “period piece,” at least in New York, but I feel that this play continues to be relevant in the questions it asks about political activism itself (particularly now, in the age of the Occupy movement), as well as the questions that the play asks of us beyond politics, as in: What does it mean to be together with someone? What does it mean to separate from someone you’ve been with for a long time? When the obstacles against connection with others are external, how does this change our internal harmony with others? And what happens when we do get what we want, politically, artistically, romantically?

The Myths We Need – or – How To Begin plays with language. It’s written in something I like to call Ole Timey Talk. And it’s part of my cycle of biblical plays, The Genesis Tapestries, which dramatizes, reinterprets, and sometimes challenges themes from the Old Testament. The plays in this cycle might seem, on the surface, to be my least personal, since they take place in different times and places than where I am in my own life, but in many ways this long-term, ongoing project comprises my most personal work, in that I’m stretching the canvas, painting in broad strokes, and seeing how these ancient stories and themes reflect my own life, and vice versa.

Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary might seem to be the most conventional of these three plays. It has some social satire in it, but it’s basically a character-driven comedy. It’s probably most similar to my play What To Do When You Hate All Your Friends – an anti-social comedy then any of my other work. (Both plays have a bunch of parties in them, and both plays deal with the weird hierarchies we place on our friendships, relationships, and social circles), but it does play with form (more on that later), and may not be political in any way, but does ask questions about how we as individuals interact within our community, and it does play with language, in that everyone speaks in this play in what I call Bi-Polar Speak, all run-on speech, and breathless syntactical (il)logic, but ultimately, all these plays are about how we love.

We all love. And we all love differently. And in many ways we all love badly. Or, at best, we don’t love enough, or we don’t love well enough. But there is hope that we can love better. That is, in essence, what I am always, always, always writing about.

That was the long answer to your question.

Here is the short answer:

Yes.

~~~

Can’t get enough of Larry Kunofsky?  Neither can I.  That was part 1.  Part 2 is coming up soon.  It’s just as funny, thoughtful, moving and minxy as this was.  So … grab another drink, stay tuned, and get ready for more of the same (but completely different)!

_________________________________________________________________________

Related Posts:

• Larry Kunofsky Take 2 … Still Imaginative – Nowhere Near Imaginary
• The Myths We Need -Or- How To Begin: The Play You Need To See
• The Un-Marrying Project: Passion Is Easy – Commitment Is Hard
• The Team Behind “Gay Plays For Straight People (And Also Gay People)” Gives Me Some Straight Answers (And Also Some Gay Answers)
• Your Boyfriend May Be Imaginary – A Epic Quest Through Another Hundred People

4 Cents Review – When 2 reviewers each give their 2 cents.

Today, The Happiest Medium offers a 4 cents review of The Myths We Need -Or- How To Begin. Read on as Karen Tortora-Lee and Michelle Augello-Page each give their two cents on this exciting production by Purple Repertory Theater!

Michelle: The Myths We Need -Or- How To Begin is a contemporary retelling of the story of Adam and Eve. Written by Larry Kunofsky and directed by Jose Zayas, the play offers a unique, symbolic, and provocative look at this biblical story of original sin, and how man and woman were cast from the garden of Eden and into the world.

The garden of Eden in this play is set in no specific place, but appears to be a rural work-farm. The stage set is the inside of the worker’s living quarters, and each scene takes place in some form of darkness. Low burning lanterns on either side of the stage are subtle and cleverly utilized to illuminate the stage and indicate the passage of time. Sound is also employed to provide context and setting as each scene breaks into the next.

Karen: While the setting itself is ambiguous, almost immediately – from the very first spoken word (“Light”) - The Myths We Need -Or- How To Begin tethers itself to a very specific rhythm with a very specific language. How To Begin is peppered with language that could be found in any number of Edward G. Robinson films, or The Bowery Boys shorts.  When sitting down to write – or re-write – one of the best known creation myths it would be easy to fall into a mode which mirrors the original landscape and simply tweaks it; here is where Kunofsky’s  brilliance as a writer is in abundance.  How To Begin flips the script and puts creation in a place where we wouldn’t necessarily envision it; and that’s what keeps it utterly refreshing.

The Myths We Need -Or- How To Begin

Michelle: One of the most unusual aspects to this play is the dialogue, reminiscent of 1930s idiomatic speech. Although there is no stated time period for the play, the 1930s are mirrored in several other ways, found in the stage set and clothing of the characters. At first, my ear had to adjust to the 1930s language. However, I soon realized that this use of dialogue provided a subcontext to the play which was a stroke of genius.

Karen: By using language that has its own voltage built in, an immediate heat is created between the characters; scenes crackle with a sensuality and raw sexual energy.  Further, by using poetic and lyrical phrases which have either gone by the wayside or have changed in meaning Kunofsky parallels the original text of the creation myth which, itself, has constantly been re-interpreted over the years, ultimately giving the text deeper (if not sometimes conflicting) value.

Michelle: The dialogue moved the play forward lightly and quickly, and also kept the audience laughing, even in the most serious and heart-wrenching scenes. Using the idioms and affects of the 1930s was a brilliant touch, as the sub-context of the world became clearer. The 1930s remind me always of the great depression, a time in American history of devastating poverty, when many people had lost faith in the government and were simply struggling to survive.

A certain lawlessness permeates 1930s culture as people were cast from illusion of the American dream and thrown into the great depression under a government that could not shelter them, becoming a place where bootleggers, gangsters, and the godless flourished. It is no small wonder that The Myths We Need -Or- How To Begin finds some roots here.

The play features the four characters of the biblical tale in a similar 1930s pulp fashion, and we find God as “The Boss” (Hugh Sinclair), Adam as “The Kid” (Luke Forbes), the Snake as “The Old Broad” (Annie Henk), and Eve as “The Tomater” (Anna Lamadrid). These actors deliver stellar performances, and the multi-ethnic cast works together to deliver a story that succeeds in obviating race to represent humanity. The gender differences inherent in the Adam and Eve story are present; however, the balances struck between men and women are the places the characters find both shelter and power.

Karen: What is so elegant about the way the story unfolds through these four characters is how, while it completely sticks to the source material, the words spoken are somehow seen as earnest hyperbole.  Serveral times there is a moment where the duality is perfect, such as this moment when The Kid is telling The Old Broad:

… The only world is this here place. Maybe a body can hear some goings on away from here. A lotta rigamaroll and mucketymuck. A lotta things too busy fer their own concern. But here is everything. All’s there is, is right here. And on the day I came here, that was the day the world began.

"The Boss" (Hugh Sinclair), "The Kid" (Luke Forbes), "The Old Broad" (Annie Henk), and "The Tomater" (Anna Lamadrid) photo by Kacey Stamats

Michelle: “The Boss” is the owner of the land. In exchange for work, he offers room and board; however, he demands obedience and an adherence to his rules. “The Boss” is all-seeing, all-knowing, all-powerful. Hugh Sinclair plays this character with a tough, almost menacing, omnipotence, shaken to vulnerability after the Fall.

“The Kid”, played by Luke Forbes with great sensitivity and strength, represents Adam. He is grateful to work for The Boss, but he is lonely, restless, growing, and learning who he is. His unhappiness at being alone on the work-farm is alleviated by the appearance of “The Tomater”, who becomes his lover, temptress, and savior. Throughout the play, we witness The Kid grow into a greater awareness as he finds himself becoming a man.

“The Old Broad” is the female representation of the snake. Annie Henk’s character is sexy and smart; she slithers seductively across the stage as a woman who has seen it all, done it all. Henk shines as the most worldly character in the play, whose role is to both tempt and awaken the other characters.

“The Tomater”, played with moxie by Anna Lamadrid, is the woman brought to the work-farm to be a companion for The Kid. This Eve balances naivete and fragility with nerve and an iron will. The scene where she first arrives is one of the best in the play. The dialogue sparkles with wit and tenderness as the Adam and Eve characters meet each other for the first time, touch each other, learn and create a language for the body, and each other.

The eroticism in The Myths We Need -Or- How To Begin is tempered with suggestion, revealing a natural sexuality that is neither exploitive nor explicit. Moments of sexual reveal are accompanied with a certain degree of joy, as the pleasure to be found in the body is accepted without fear.

The apple in this story is ”Apple Jack”, the Boss’s hidden stash of illegal liquor, which brings us back to 1930s prohibition and governmental control. Tasting the prohibited brew gives them “big ideas” and makes them question and challenge the rules laid out by “The Boss”.  Their sin lies in this uncovering, this ultimate reveal. They are fired by The Boss and cast out, but in a twist from the original tale, they grasp the opportunity and embrace the chance to recreate the world anew.

Karen: Director Jose Zayas is obviously accomplished and does extraordinary work to bring Kunofsky’s world to life.  The production team has created not only a play but a feeling — an atmosphere — an experience.  You are not only watching this world but connecting to it as it creates itself.  Plays like  The Myths We Need -Or- How To Begin are rare: filled with beauty, truth, erotic power, and healing humor.  Beyond a simple retelling of a creation myth, this play redefines what it means to go back to the beginning.

~~~
PURPLE REPRETORY THEATER COMPANY

Related Posts:

• Larry Kunofsky – Unimaginably Imaginative. But NOT Imaginary – Take 1
• Larry Kunofsky Take 2 … Still Imaginative – Nowhere Near Imaginary
• The Un-Marrying Project: Passion Is Easy – Commitment Is Hard
• The Team Behind “Gay Plays For Straight People (And Also Gay People)” Gives Me Some Straight Answers (And Also Some Gay Answers)
• Outskirts of Eden: 10 Things To Know About The Show Before You Go (2016 FRIGID NEW YORK FESTIVAL)

Meet Simon and Kim – passionate. About their cause (we’ll get to that in a moment), about each other (when we meet them they’re taking a cozy bath together) and about their work which (currently) is a documentary film they’re shooting called The Un-Marrying Project.  As it stands, this play IS the film.  Or is it the other way around?

So passionate are they about their work, their relationship and their cause that it all blends together for them in one big ball of “Here we are!  Simon and Kim!” (Exclaimed in unison, no less.  Well … after some practice).  They’re so deeply connected that they even have joint panic attacks.  (Awwww – cute).  But is all this passion enough to get them through their act of civil disobedience – The Un-Marrying Project: documenting the process of several married couples who willingly get un-married (yes, also known as divorced) in the name of protest … living apart until ALL people can be married EVERYWHERE?  In other words … they’ve decided that until Gay Marriage is legal, no marriage should be valid and several brave couples are taking up the cause, allowing their journey to be filmed.  So here’s the question … can they all stay committed to the cause?  To the film?  To each other?  Is their committment as strong as their passion?

In The Un-Marrying Project writer Larry Kunofsky has taken a controversial matter and then turned it inside out.  This is no easy topic and Kunofsky doesn’t gloss over any of it.  With the overarching premise  being that we’re watching two documentary film makers (Documentarians!) create a record for posterity, we gain access into nooks of participants lives in ways that perhaps they wouldn’t be so quick to divulge.

Abraham Amkpa, Diana Oh, Bill Weeden, Brian Miskell, Katie Atcheson, Nic Grelli, & Jolly Abraham

Participating in Simon (Nic Grelli) and Kim’s (Jolly Abraham) documentary are several couples of varying ages, backgrounds, and even sexual orientations.  What’s refreshing is that Simon and Kim chose to include (and by that I mean Larry Kunofsky chose to write) same-sex couples who married legally in Massachusetts which says a lot for how this play is going to cover the topic.  All these couples have agreed to physically and legally separate, living apart for a year (which is how long you must be legally separated in New York State to get a divorce) in the name of Gay Marriage  - they won’t re-marry until everyone can get married.  As Simon and Kim admit right up front “We haven’t really figured out an ending for our documentary yet.” And therein lies the beauty of this play.  Because, of course … it shows that while everyone wants to do SOMETHING, there are ramifications that can’t always be foreseen, let alone taken into account or planned for.  So what happens when a handful of people who want to do good make a radical move fueled only by their passion for the cause?

After a community of voices throws out all the verbal imagery surrounding the issue – both pro and con – (everything from “Come on, People! A woman married a roller coaster! It’s time to let people marry people!” to “Only people are this perverted! Animals aren’t gay! They have normal sex.”) we begin to meet the couples who are Un-Marrying for the sake of change.

First up is are the Kramms (Bill Weeden and Katie Atcheson) - an elderly couple married in 1941 who are excited to join the project in an effort to break free of their  WASP-y Westchester mores.  They are “fairly certain” that gays live in Westchester … they just haven’t run across any.  With their only son deceasd they find themselves the last of their bloodline and feel moved to do something … and so they choose to spend their twilight years as activists participating in this project.

Diana Oh, Bill Weeden, & Brian Miskell

Next we meet Ephraim & Tzipora, (Brian Miskell and Diana Oh) a young Jewish couple from Teaneck New Jersey who are deeply religious, but only recently. “Kind of like Born Again Christians. But also actually nothing like Born Again Christians.” Having come from a more worldly background they have more experience with all types of people. While they know that  being gay is against the Torah they’ve also “seen enough of the world to know that loving your neighbor for any good they do is more important than hating them for anything bad they do”.

The third pair is Janos & Andy, (Abraham Amkpa and Brian Miskell) a Brooklyn gay couple who were legally married in the State of Massachusetts.  They recognize they’re the lucky ones who had the resources to cross the state lines in order to get married.  So in solidarity for those not as fortunate, they’re un-marrying.

The next couple is Maggie & Wendy (Katie Atcheson and Diana Oh). They’re lesbians – also hailing from Brooklyn, also legally married in Massachusetts, who are divorcing in the original spirit of civil rights.

The final couple are Peter & Hope (Abraham Amkpa and Katie Atcheson).  They are perhaps the least likely of the group to be participating; Peter is a blowhard and Hope is a passive follower who diverts the awkward moments of the dinner party with bland non-sequiturs, but Peter’s brother (now deceased) was gay (“A homo” as Peter refers to him) and their support of the project is as misguided as their marriage but equally as necessary to commemorating Henry’s memory.

Oh, and there are some dream sequences involving Susan Sarandon and Tim Robbins too (Abraham Amkpa and Katie Atcheson again).  We’ll get to that later.  (Maybe).

From here, Kunofsky does an amazing job of weaving a story that starts with the brilliant fire of newly sparked passion which then quickly (or not so quickly, depending on the couple) turns into something a little less than ideal.  After all, the notion of not just talking the talk but walking the walk is a very powerful one – and each couple gets enlivened by the idea of doing something to aid the cause.  However, committing to the act is where things become difficult.  Divorce as a choice for two people who are no longer in love is hard enough on the psyche … now have that process invoked upon two people who are actually still quite in love or at the very least certainly not OUT of love and the effects can be devastating.  How often have we, as human beings, seen something from this end of the situation -working two jobs, serving on a committee, taking in an ailing parent- and said “I can handle it!  I’ll manage”.  Its the very core of “the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.”  And as The Un-Marrying Project progresses all the couples involved – including the big ball of ”Here we are!  Simon and Kim!” find themselves and their situations changing as their “flesh” becomes weak … and sometimes even their spirit.

The progress – and the ending  - make a very powerful statement about exactly how necessary it is to twist your own life around in order to help a greater cause.

The cast of merely seven are one of the strongest ensembles I’ve ever seen assembled as they all pull at least triple duty with a few smaller roles for each as well.  There were actual moments when I was convinced that someone new had joined the ensemble mid-way even though I knew it was someone I’d been watching the whole time.  Not only do each of the actors have to juggle multiple roles, they must convincingly move from being partnered in a loving straight relationship in one scene to a loving gay relationship in the next with the same intensity, chemistry and believability.  To single out one actor or character would be a disservice to the others – though this is an ensemble cast helmed by two strong main characters this is really more like a series of individual showcases.  Under Rachel Eckerling’s intuitive direction each actor brings Kunofsky’s wonderful script to an even higher level, and in turn they each simultaneously win (as well as break) your heart.

The Un-Marrying Project is a story of triumph.  It is a story of trials.  It is a story of trying to do what’s right when what’s right isn’t necessarily what’s best for two people.  And ultimately, The Un-Marrying Project is one of the most intelligent, entertaining, enlightening, innovative pieces of theatre I’ve seen in a long time.  This one is not to be missed.

~~~

Click Here for tickets

Related Posts:

• The Team Behind “Gay Plays For Straight People (And Also Gay People)” Gives Me Some Straight Answers (And Also Some Gay Answers)
• Larry Kunofsky – Unimaginably Imaginative. But NOT Imaginary – Take 1
• Magic Trick – Baring It All (Fringe Festival 2012)
• The Foreplay Play – What Comes Before
• Larry Kunofsky Take 2 … Still Imaginative – Nowhere Near Imaginary

Gay Plays for Straight People (and also gay people) is comprised of two plays which will play in rep brought to you by the new theatre company Purple Rep founded by playwrights Larry Kunofsky and Mariah MacCarthy.  The plays - Kunofsky’s The Un-Marrying Project and MacCarthy’s The All-American Genderf*ck Cabaret – will run from April 8-30 at The Paradise Factory (64 East 4th Street between 2nd Ave and Bowery).

Larry  and Mariah took some time to answer my questions and give me some straight answers (and also some not-just-straight answers) about what they’re passionate about, how they explore the fuckupedness of both genders, what it means, exactly, to be “un-married”, and how they intend to keep blending it all up in an effort to keep it Purple.  Read on …

 

 

 

 

 

Let’s get right into the title. Gay Plays for Straight People (and also gay people).  So – really … everyone, right?  Transgendered, Bi, Bi Curious … poly amorous … even those who are abstinent for personal reasons or just because that’s the cards they were dealt.  So tell me how you came up with that title.
Mariah: We both had these plays we were really passionate about. One is about married people divorcing in the name of gay marriage, and one is about the limitations of gender norms. That’s a lot of queer themes swirling around, but roughly two thirds of our characters are straight and we’re a “straight” couple, which gave us the “gay plays for straight people” idea. But, let’s face it, there’s already plenty of “gay” culture that’s really for straight people, or has been whitewashed to make it “palatable” for straight people, and that’s not what these plays are. These plays come from a real passionate place, as allies and, for me, as a pansexual woman who just happens to be in love with a man. And we want to make sure that the community for whom we are allies knows that these plays are for them. So we added “and also gay people.”But, yes, these plays are absolutely for everyone. Genderf*ck‘s characters, for a start, are gay, lesbian, heteroflexible, genderqueer, and straight–and some of them have not had sex in a longtime, or ever. And the characters in The Un-Marrying Project are gay, straight, WASPs in their 80s, Orthodox Jews, working-class Bronx families, wealthy immigrants, Long Island Italians…you get the idea. These are gay plays for everybody.

Larry: If there’s a link between Mariah’s work as a playwright and my work as a playwright – even before we get into what Purple Rep is about – that link is about Sex and Identity. All our plays are about sex, and there’s usually a fair amount of sex in them. Even if it’s not onstage sex (which does occur, too) it’s the notion that sex has simply MADE these characters.

We’re born from sex and we come alive again on a whole other level whenever we have sex. That’s in ALL our plays! And then there’s identity.  Maybe all plays are about a protagonist searching for who he/she is, and our plays can certainly be seen through this lens. Which brings us to Gay Plays For Straight People (And Also Gay People). Hetero- or Homosexuality is not just about choice or how someone is wired, but also about how someone perceives oneself and is perceived. And we are celebrating this. Sometimes sex and identity issues can be oppressive, so we’re not proselytizing about any aspect of this spectrum (we want to look at and write about all of this as comprehensively as possible), but we think that this kind of fluidity within the too often rigid societal expectations on an individual can be liberating. Something that Mariah & I kept saying to each other to make this clear when we were rewriting our plays was, Gay Is A Color. I tried using that as a line in my play, but it never quite fit. But Purple Rep is about all kinds of colors.

The All-American Genderfuck Cabaret features “eight gender stereotypes”.  How stereotypical are they?  Like … the slut, theprude, the metrosexual, the jock … or will it take some work for the audience to pick them out?
Mariah: You’ll be able to figure it out pretty quickly. You have a Feminine Woman, a Feminine Man, a Masculine Woman, a Masculine Man, a Gay Woman, a Gay Man, a Promiscuous Woman, and a Promiscuous Man. Which translates roughly into Girly Girl, Nice Guy/Metrosexual, Tomboy, Meathead, Feminist Lesbian, Gay Best Friend, Slut, and Player. The play is definitely set up to help you figure these labels out as quickly as possible–so that we can then transcend them, and learn what contradicts or lies beneath these labels.

The Happiest Medium just wrapped up a series on Women’s History Month.  Ispecifically asked women how gender played a role in how they’ve been treated in their chosen paths.  The answers ran the gamut.  So I ask the same question here, but a little differently – will Genderfuck deal with the fuck-upedness found in both genders, or does it lean alittle to one … and if so, which one?
Mariah: Ooh. Love this question! Short answer: Yes, there is fuck-upedness in both genders, and this play definitely tries to explore both. Being a woman, I probably spend more time exploring the fuck-upedness of femininity/the myth of “female identity,” but maybe not–maybe that’s all in my head. This play has been performed before, a year ago, and a lot of men told me how strongly they related to it. When it comes to sex especially, we’re all caught in sort of a weird dance: pursuing/having sex can make us feel special and happy and joyful, or it can make us feel bored and disappointed that it didn’t fix our lives and whiten our teeth and balance our checkbook or whatever we thought it was going to do. And this experience in America is often different for men and women. A statistic I heard about five years ago continues to haunt me: when surveyed, women’s most common fear was being raped and/or murdered, while men’s most common fear was being laughed at. I think a lot of the play comes from the exploration of those fears.

Really, the play is about how we all have infinite choices. If you want to wear a dress, you can. If you wear a dress because you feel pressured to do so but don’t really like it, don’t wear one. If you want to have sex, you should. If you want to stop having sex because for whatever reason it’s not enjoyable for you right now, you should. If you feel like you’re a man or a woman or both or neither or something else, be that. It’s all about what will make you feel happy and connected and sexy.

Mariah MacCarthy and Larry Kunofsky (Photo by Marissa Bea)

 

The second part of the Gay Plays For Straight People (And Also Gay People) is The Un-Marrying Project.  It deals with straight married people who are “un marrying” in support of gay marriage … and not re-marrying until it’s legal for everyone. Larry, tell me how this idea came to you.
Larry: I’ve been happily unmarried my whole adult life. But even though I’ve known that marriage was not my deal since forever, it is a right that our laws seem to withhold from a specific class of people and I truly am outraged by this. My patron saint in thinking about how to respond to this issue has been Rosa Parks. A brave and intelligent, but ultimately, by her own admission, a very ordinary person who broke the law in a very simple way that helped change the world. My initial impulse in writing this play was in looking at well-meaning people who would de-marry, if you will, as a similar type of civil disobedience. But that brought me to the notion of how disruptive any deviation from the norm can be. There’s danger in making waves – sometimes people drown. I tend to idolize the individuals behind the civil rights movements of the sixties. I do believe that – with Gandhi as their model – they were hoping for a bloodless revolution. The tragedy was how bloody this bloodless revolution was. And most of the blood seemed to be shed on the side of the just. But ask any survivors if they regret it…

If you two were married, would you actually commit this “act of civil disobedience” if you knew it could bring about change?
Mariah: Yes. We’d do fucking anything if we knew it could bring about change.

Larry: I don’t claim to be a brave or adventurous person, but when I look back at my early years of grade school, my main regret is not getting into trouble enough. I must confess, as an adult, I spend most of my time looking for trouble. That might explain why my past theatre companies broke up and why I’ve been fired from a lot of jobs, but choice and freedom is about calling people (and more importantly, institutions) on their bullshit. So it’s like that early Brando movie, where he’s a biker, and someone asks him, What are you rebelling against, and he’s, like, “Whattya got?!” I’m all for that.

Purple Rep is a relatively new company.  I love your mission statement:” … plays that make you see red and hear the blues … until it all mixes in your mind’s eye into a purple rush.” That’s a tall order.What plans do you have to keep this strong mission alive?
Mariah: We plan to keep writing. Purple Rep will eventually do plays by people other than Larry Kunofsky and Mariah MacCarthy, but we started this company because we wanted to do each other’s work. Our work, while vastly different from each other, come from our hearts and guts. I once had a writing teacher ask me, after I brought in a scene with lots of punching in it, “Do you want to hit people?” I immediately responded, “Yes.” I think sometimes I write plays instead of hitting people.

Yet I consider myself a compassionate writer–and often, that compassion just adds sadness to that rage. When we sympathize with a rapist or an abuser or a cheater or a liar or a murderer, that’s tragedy. We know we could have been them under different circumstances, so whatever happens to them could happen to us. So that rage and compassionate-sadness–that seeing-red, hearing-blue thing–is characteristic of a lot of our work.  And so are our senses of humor–all that rage and sadness won’t sink in unless an audience laughs with you first. We really consider these plays especially to be great expressions of joy. So, we intend to keep doing plays that have their share of red and blue and laughs.

Larry: That’s such a vital question! Right now we’re hoping to stay afloat through THIS mini-season, but we are trying to see what our next mini-season, or the one after that will look like. Basically, we’re trying to explore how we put the REP in PURPLE REP. This time around we shared the same space and the same designers, sure, but perhaps we’ll do a mini-season with one shared director. Maybe we’ll do one shared cast. We want to constantly re-define what our REP is. And PURPLE is clearly about sexuality this time, but next time… PURPLE can be about race; about the body; about the blending of all kinds of themes. PURPLE is a rorschach color for us, and we’re looking at ways to look at Purple in new ways. Maybe that sounds a little Art School, but to paraphrase something I said earlier, Theatre is a color. We’re testing out the hues and shades through which we can continue participating in this medium.

Thanks for answering these questions!  Looking forward to seeing the shows!

Larry: Thank you! These questions were Purple to begin with! You’re One Of Us!!!!!!

I’m honored to be one of you.  Can’t wait to see the shows!

~~~

The All-American Genderf*ck Cabaret

The Un-Marrying Project

The Paradise Factory

64 E. 4th St.

New York, NY 10003

United States

 

 

 

Related Posts:

• The Un-Marrying Project: Passion Is Easy – Commitment Is Hard
• Larry Kunofsky – Unimaginably Imaginative. But NOT Imaginary – Take 1
• The All-American Genderf*ck Cabaret – Equal Opportunity Exploration
• Larry Kunofsky Take 2 … Still Imaginative – Nowhere Near Imaginary
• The Myths We Need -Or- How To Begin: The Play You Need To See