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An Interview with the
Pulitzer Prize Winning Playwright
Earlier this summer,
playwright Paula Vogel was in Rehoboth for a special evening
spotlighting her works, presented by the Henlopen Theater Project.
Organized by HTP Executive Director James FitzSimmons, the evening
included special guests reading scenes f rom Vogel’s plays, a
conversation on stage between the playwright and FitzSimmons, and a
discussion with the performers and the audience. Special guests included
actors Sada Thompson, Cotter Smith, Christopher Peterson and the stars
of Vogel’s play The Baltimore Waltz, being presented by HTP at the
time. Vogel, author of the Pulitzer-prize winning play How I Learned to
Drive, and The Mineola Twins among others, proved to be a warm and
engaging presence in an evening that was funny, emotional and intimate
(and a sell-out!) Afterwards, at a reception at Celsius Restaurant (to
benefit the CAMP Rehoboth Women’s Project) and later via e-mail, Vogel
spoke with Letters columnist Fay Jacobs.
Photo Paula Vogel (center) Sada Thompson & Roo Brown.
FJ: What was the first
thing you said when Fitz told you he wanted to do An Evening with Paula
Vogel?
PV: Oh Lord—I’m not
even dead yet!
FJ: Did you know in
advance what Fitz had in store for you, the special guests, readings of
your scenes, etc.?
PV: No—Fitz wisely
kept it secret from me. We’ll just talk on stage, he said. No
pressure, everything low-key—and then when I got there, he sprang it
on me.
FJ: What, if anything
surprised you about your special night at the beach?
PV: I guess I never
realized that I had a “body of work”—you know, as a playwright,
you do the work piecemeal, one rewrite at a time. I was also a bit
overwhelmed by the generosity of all the participants, and the warmth I
felt.
FJ: As far as we know,
you are the only “out” lesbian to have won a Pulitzer. What has the
honor meant to you as a writer, and also, if anything, for the
community?
PV: I remember walking
in New York with my partner shortly after the announcement, and the New
York Blade has this large banner headline in bright red ink: LESBIAN
WINS PULITZER. And it so looked like one of the headlines on the Star,
or National Enquirer: MOM WITH THREE HEADS EATS BABIES or MARTIANS IN
SUBURBAN SWIMMING POOL that we broke down laughing.
The truth is, there
have always been trailblazing women who loved women before me, that made
the way possible for me: Maria Irene Fornes, Elizabeth Bishop, Emily
Dickinson (yes, we should claim her!), Willa Cather, Jane Bowles. Women
who had to abide by conventions and mores of their times. And I feel
very blessed to live in a time when we can claim that part of ourselves
openly. I think it’s not only important, this openness, for all the
lesbian and gay students I’ve taught—it expands the possibilities
for men and women who love each other as well. Our love in the lesbian
and gay community serves as a model for everyone.
What was also wonderful
is that the very next year, after my play, How I Learned to Drive won
the Pulitzer, another woman, also from D.C., won the Pulitzer for her
brilliant first play:
WIT—The first time
women have won two years in a row!
FJ: How I Learned to
Drive, is about the difficult themes of trust and adolescent sexual
abuse. Why did you feel the need to write it and what do you hope your
actors and audiences take away from it?
PV: I wrote it, in some
ways, as a gift to the younger people I’ve taught and continue to
teach. I know how hard it is to reach the empowerment of adulthood, and
I wanted to give something to them: that we sometimes receive gifts from
people who have hurt us. And we should use those gifts, look at the pain
as truthfully as we can, and hopefully, we can move on.
FJ: The Baltimore
Waltz, is another “memory play” that deals with subjects much deeper
than they first appear. We know it was written as you dealt with the
AIDS death of your brother, and you had some touching and insightful
things to say about it when you visited here on July 31. What do you
hope audiences will be thinking about when they leave the theatre?
PV: I hope we all
remember to treasure the ones we love—the living and the dead.
FJ: I know you were
here in Rehoboth for a whirlwind trip, and didn’t even get to the
women’s beach (next time!) but did get a feel for gay and gay-friendly
Rehoboth? Did you get a feel for the enormous sense of community
here—and is it something you might want to use for playwriting
inspiration (hint-hint).
PV: You know, I’ve
been to Rehoboth on brief visits several times now, and I can feel the
sense of community. But the truth is, I’m writing this now at the home
I’ve created with my partner in Truro, ten minutes from
Provincetown—and so when we need a little sisterly inspiration, we hop
into the car and drop in at the Vixen to catch a stand-up comic, a
singer, see plays at one of three local theatres, or we just walk the
streets—and I know you know what it feels like to live in a town where
you can walk the streets without fear, and see your lives mirrored by
those around you.
FJ: Why is the notion
of “community” so important to you? You spoke a lot about it on July
31.
PV: Theatre is all
about community—it’s a communal activity. In these days of
increasing isolation—where we watch small screens in the dark, or
huddle around the computer—theatre gives us a spiritual bread not
offered by any other art form. Theatre gives us the chance to gather
together in public to look at parts of our lives, and as a community
think and feel about these issues which touch us all. Only communal
response changes our world.
FJ: I know we talked
briefly about your coming back to do a quick playwriting seminar or
workshop. What kinds of things do you tell your students to spur their
imaginations?
PV: I basically tell
people that everyone can write a play. It’s a basic human instinct
that we’re born with: the storytelling gene. And that we have to allow
ourselves to play, to write for each other in the circle, to tell the
stories that have been given to us. And if each person doesn’t tell
their story, it may never be told. We just need to have fun; the work
comes in the rewrites.
FJ: Fitz and HTP are
becoming a big part of the beach community. Can you tell us a story
about Fitz we might not know?
PV: Oh no. I’m
keeping those stories—you probably know what you need to know—he’s
a passionate, determined artist of the theatre. Fitz, hon, just send the
check to my Providence address—my lips are sealed.
FJ: Christopher
Peterson, our Rehoboth Eyecon, did a spectacular job reading from your
script of The Mineola Twins. What did he, playing the role in drag,
bring to the role?
PV: It was really a
revelation for me. He brought a dignity of almost Greek tragedy to the
role.
FJ: A screenplay of your script for The Oldest Profession is in the
works. Roo Brown and Sada Thompson were simply exquisite in their
reading from that play. Tell us a little about your plans for it.
PV: Oh, it’s been
rewritten some thirty times now, with six options—we’re still a bit
short on the budget, but hopefully Fred Berner (producer of Vanya on
42nd Street, The Ballad of Little Jo) will be able to film it in Toronto
this fall with the actresses who have worked on it with me in readings:
Olympia Dukakis, Rita Moreno, and Cloris Leachman.
FJ: So, when are you
coming back to our area? We’ve got a mile-long list of gals who’ve
volunteered to escort you to the women’s beach!
PV: Be still my heart!
I’ll keep this inducement as a carrot to urge my work along.
FJ: What else might you
want to say to Letters readers?
PV: Please, please
support the Henlopen Theater Project! I’ve seen the miracle that can
occur with a great small theatre company and a community—everyone gets
enriched. Please get involved—if not with money, then with time, with
your hearts. I hope to come back for a tenth anniversary season to
celebrate this community for keeping the flame burning!
For
more information on the Henlopen Theater Project, call Donna Moore or
James FitzSimmons at 302-226-4103.
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