[When
most people who aren’t part of the theater world—what one of my teachers fondly
called “civilians”—see a play, they think of actors, singers, dancers, maybe
directors, occasionally choreographers. Spectators
may see the sets, the costumes, the lights, and all the parts of the show known
as “spectacle” or “production values,” but I suspect most just figure they
arrive as they appear on stage by magic.
The artists and technicians who create, build, maintain, and handle
those important aspects of a show are often entirely unknown outside the
business. Even though there are Tonys and
Obies for the work these talents perform, many who watch the awards shows zone
out during the “technical” awards, I think.
Well, attention must be paid! Not
long ago, the New York Times and the Washington Post each
ran articles on one of the professionals who do this work for the stage: Eugene
Lee, one of the American stage’s most renowned and respected set designers, and
Paul Huntley, the designer and maker of many of the
hair pieces worn by stars, featured actors, and even chorus members on stages
across the country. It’s time ROT honored some of the artists who make the visual force of theater a
vital part of the experience. So I’m
going to see to it that it does just that.
~Rick]
“HOME & GARDEN: AT HOME WITH EUGENE LEE:
MAKING A SCENE, ONSTAGE AND OFF”
by Sandy
Keenan
[This
article was originally published in the “Home” section (section D) of the New York Times on 3 April 2014.]
PROVIDENCE, R.I.
— For years, the crystal chandelier that Eugene Lee salvaged back in the 1980s,
when the original Helen Hayes Theater in Times Square was being demolished,
presided over Studio 8H at Rockefeller Center, adding a little elegance to the
rarefied air around “Saturday Night Live” cast members like Eddie Murphy and
Dennis Miller.
But eventually
the opulent fixture was replaced, and Mr. Lee, a celebrated designer whose
recent projects include the set for “The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon”
and the new Broadway show “The Velocity of Autumn,” lugged it home on his
weekly commute up Interstate 95 to his Georgian Revival house on College Hill.
Now it hangs in the foyer here, brightening all the other things that he and
his wife, Brooke, a painter, have collected over the years.
Just walking into
the beautifully proportioned house, built in 1912 for the daughter of a Rhode
Island governor, can cause a temporary sense of vertigo. There is so much to
take in: layer upon layer of objects large and small, useful and not, all of
them with a similar vintage and patina.
Mr. Lee, 75,
collects utilitarian things like old typewriters, Art Deco sprinklers, old
canes and roll-top desks. Mrs. Lee, 65, favors post-1900 tin globes (she has
about 200), wooden stacking toys, colorful British china and silhouettes (her
collection is so extensive that the framing shop offered her a bulk discount).
The enormous pair of tailor’s scissors hanging in the doorway between the
living and dining rooms was a joint acquisition.
“We were always
great junkers,” Mr. Lee said. “Not to get all artsy or anything, but it’s a lot
like painting. You pick, you choose, but you don’t add willy-nilly.”
Mrs. Lee added:
“We like the real thing, but we’re not crazy. I don’t spend all day in my
pajamas changing the way things are arranged.”
In any case,
there is no time for that. Not while Mr. Lee, who was admitted to the Theater
Hall of Fame in 2006, continues to be so much in demand.
You may not
recognize his name, his kindly face or his spiky white hair, but you almost
certainly know his work: In addition to “The Tonight Show” studio and set, Mr.
Lee has designed sets for numerous Broadway productions and has won Tony Awards
for three of them (“Wicked,” “Candide” and “Sweeney Todd”). He remains the
resident design guru for “Saturday Night Live,” one of only a handful of
inaugural staffers from the 1975-76 season still at it 21 weeks a year.
And this year has
been particularly frenzied: At the moment, he is creating the look of Maya
Rudolph’s pilot for a variety television show, while simultaneously
collaborating with the writer and illustrator Chris Van Allsburg on a new
version of “The Nutcracker” and designing for Steve Martin and Edie Brickell’s
musical, “Bright Star.” All told, he is working on the sets for eight
productions around the country. And this week, “The Velocity of Autumn,” his
25th Broadway show, opened in previews at the Booth Theater.
“It’s fun to have
things going on all over town,” he said modestly.
But the busier
Mr. Lee is, the less time his wife has to spend on her watercolors, which are
scattered throughout the house, because she does his bookings and billings and
even handles his small talk. As she said, “I maintain relationships, and I keep
Eugene organized.”
While much of his
work is based in Manhattan, the Lees have never considered leaving Providence,
where his career began in 1967 as a designer for the Trinity Repertory Company,
an organization he continues to be associated with as the resident designer. But
during the weeks that “Saturday Night Live” is in production, Mr. Lee catches
the train on Wednesday morning, arriving at NBC in time for the afternoon story
meeting and, like the rest of his design team, works almost around the clock
until the show goes live. Meetings are routinely held at midnight or later, and
Mr. Lee lives spartanly, sleeping when he can at the nearby Yale Club (he got
his M.F.A. at Yale).
It is nearly
impossible to keep up with him as he scurries through the bowels of the
enormous building, ducking and weaving, and tiptoeing around frenetic set
painters. The studio, which he designed when the show was being hatched, is
more like an elevated house than a TV set, and under his management, the sets
are still built the old-fashioned, expensive way: from scratch, using real
wood, genuine antiques (for the White House skits) and (when necessary) live
animals. Authentic, realistic, sometimes seedy — the way he prefers everything.
Al Franken, the
senator from Minnesota who spent 15 years with the show, credits Mr. Lee with
changing the look of television comedy, which had been going in a campier
direction in the early 1970s, with “The Sonny and Cher Comedy Hour” and “The
Carol Burnett Show.”
“The look of the
show is probably a larger piece of its success and iconic status than most
people realize,” Mr. Franken said. “Eugene made it elegant, and never got in
the way of the comedy.”
Lorne Michaels,
the show’s creator and executive producer, agreed. “Comedy was getting all
glossy; they called it the Infinity Look,” he said. “New York was very
different back then. Eugene designed what he saw, decay and all.”
Mr. Michaels
hired Mr. Lee after seeing his work on “Candide,” a decision he said he has
never regretted. “I always say Eugene is the only actual genius I’ve worked
with,” he said.
Not everyone has
always felt that way. The cast and crew of “Dude,” Mr. Lee’s first Broadway
musical, in 1972, took to calling him Helen Keller because he was so shy he was
all but mute. (Fortunately for Mr. Lee, the show closed in less than two weeks
and the nickname didn’t stick.)
That image is
hard to square with the reputation he has developed for taking a bold, even
radical approach to set design, ripping up existing sets to create something
that better suited the new play. Good riddance to proscenium theaters; he
wanted audiences to experience the work at hand, not simply observe it.
For “Slave Ship,”
a drama at the Brooklyn Academy of Music that he designed the sets for in 1969,
he built a platform that replicated the nausea-inducing motion of a boat on the
sea, and placed audience members right beside the actors being tossed about and
tortured. And in the early 1970s, for a Manhattan Project production of “Alice
in Wonderland,” he had patrons crawl through tiny doors to get into the
theater, like Alice trying to fit through an opening too small for her.
“I just have my
own funny ideas,” he said. “Set design is not about picking molding.”
Thirty minutes
before “Saturday Night Live” starts, Mr. Lee is out the door to meet a driver
for the three-hour ride home, a luxury he recently afforded himself after the
success of “Wicked,” which is now in its 11th year on Broadway, with touring
companies all over the world.
When he is
working at home, which is often, the commute is a lot easier: All that’s
required is rolling out the back door, through the yard, and up to the second
floor of the carriage house at the end of the driveway, where the cramped space
is warmed by an old potbellied stove that Mr. Lee feeds with wood and then a
steady supply of coal. “Nice dry heat,” he said.
A congregation of
old pendant lamps dangles from the ceiling of his studio, and there are more
than enough clocks to represent every time zone in the world, all of which need
to be wound daily. On an oak filing cabinet is an early model of the Jimmy
Fallon set with a balcony, a mock-up done before Mr. Lee decided it ought to be
a more intimate space.
Mr. Lee has made
some difficult choices about what kind of work he takes on. He has done a few
movie sets, but he didn’t like being away from Mrs. Lee and sons Will, now 40,
and Ted, 31, when they were growing up. Doing more films would also have meant
saying no more often to theater people, whom he also considers family.
On a recent tour
of the house, Mrs. Lee pointed out some favorite things, many of which were
acquired while Mr. Lee was “propping” his projects. “These are not
bazillion-dollar paintings,” she said, referring to the hundreds of artworks
they’ve collected. “Most were from fairs, $25 at the artist’s table.”
Their sons recall
countless family trips to summer flea markets around New England and visits to
salvage yards in industrial cities. And the difficulty of buying gifts for such
avid collectors, which is continuing: What do you get the couple who has
everything?
Will, who is now
a teacher in Vermont with his own children, said it is taboo to give his
parents anything new — but if something is old, chances are it’s already part
of their collection. “If they see something they like, they’re going to own
it,” he said. “So you have to find things they’re not going to find. That’s the
challenge.”
Last year, he
gave them a miniature model of an Airstream trailer and was happy to see it
prominently displayed the next time he visited.
His younger
brother, an artist and record store owner in Northampton, Mass., likes to joke
about regifting them something that’s already in the house.
“They’d never
know it,” he said. “And they’d be thrilled to have another one.”
[Sandy Keenan is a reporter for the
New York
Times “Home” section.]
* *
* *
“EASY LIES A HEAD
THAT WEARS HIS WIG”
by Ann Greer
[On
25 April, I posted my ROT report
on David Ives’s The Heir Apparent,
his adaptation of an 18th-century French farce presented by New York’s Classic
Stage Company. I made particular note of
the wigs worn in that production and the artist who designed and made them,
Paul Huntley. In “Easy lies a head that
wears his wig,” Ann Greer describes in the Washington Post the artistry of Huntley as it was applied
in a recent Shakespeare Theatre Company presentation of Henry IV. This
article was originally published in the “Arts & Style” section of the Washington
Post on 4 May 2014.]
When floozy Doll Tearsheet, played by Maggie Kettering,
enters a tavern scene in Shakespeare Theatre Company’s “Henry IV, Part 2,” your
gaze is drawn to her crowning glory. Ringlets in extraordinary hues from rust
to ruby cascade down her shoulders to perfectly cap her bawdy, worn attire.
This fantastical wig, one of the more than 60 human hair
wigs and facial pieces in the productions of “Henry IV, Part 1” and “Part 2,”
is the handiwork of designer Paul Huntley. He and director Michael Kahn settled
on a contemporary vibe for the wigs, including a Rastafarian motif for high
strung Hotspur (John Keabler).
“There’s a slightly modern approach, incorporating what you
see in everyday life. It’s a contrast with Shakespeare’s words,” Huntley said
by telephone from his base in New York. “I made the wigs a little wild in some
ways, as the characters are all a rough and tumble lot.”
Huntley, in his 80s and a native of England, began his life
in theater as an actor. He created wigs for the likes of Lawrence Olivier and
Vivien Leigh before moving to the United States in 1972. His workshop has four
staff members, with others added as needed. Huntley designed wigs for the
original Broadway productions of “Les Miserables,” “Sweeney Todd,” and
“Hairspray,” among others; his current Broadway shows are “Bullets Over
Broadway,” “All the Way” and “Cinderella.” In 2003, he was honored with a
lifetime achievement Tony Award.
Not all of Huntley’s wigs have been for actors. In the mid
1970s he made a dozen or so wigs of varying colors, lengths and styles for a
man who was not forthcoming about their use. He did say that they were not for
a play or movie, and that they should be of the finest craftsmanship and not
detectable as wigs. Huntley worked with the man for five or six years, teaching
him how to put on the wigs and their accompanying eyebrows and other facial
hair. The man, who was middle-aged and graying, was made to look younger with
some wigs, in a crew-cut style and a tousled, long-hair hippie look. He
transported the wigs in a special suitcase and eventually divulged that he was
involved in undercover government work and traveled to other countries. Then,
without a farewell, he never returned to Huntley’s studio.
Wig design, as with other design elements in a production,
entails familiarity with the script and research into the time period and types
of characters. Focused work with the director and costume designer follows,
along with input from the actors who will wear the wigs.
Stacy Keach, who plays Falstaff in the Shakespeare Theatre
production, last performed the role of the jolly, dissolute knight 47 years
ago, when he was 27. He wanted to recapture that look, so Huntley worked from
photos to create a wig of silvery white waves with bushy muttonchops. For Ted
van Griethuysen’s feisty Welsh warrior Owen Glendower, Huntley contributed to
an almost show-stopping entrance with a wig that perfectly compliments the
character developed by the actor.
“He adored it,” Huntley chuckled. “It is sort of
magnificent, isn’t it? Ted suddenly felt like this grand character; we all
thought he should be in ‘Lord of the Rings.’ We went for an untamed look that
would also give him majesty with his costume.”
With van Griethuysen and the other actors, Huntley said that
wigs give them a complete picture physically of what they have created during
rehearsal.
“It’s the last thing they see before they go on stage — themselves
in the mirror from the neck up,” he said. “Suddenly they see the character, and
it gives them an enormous amount of confidence, it really makes them feel the
part.”
[Ann
Greer is a freelance writer.]
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