Mr. Fierstein, apparently you never dreamed of being a writer or even a performer — and yet you ended up becoming a Tony award winning playwright. How did that happen?
That’s right, I was an art student! That’s what I always thought I was going to be, and that’s what I studied, I got my degree in painting. But I was also doing theater, and that started because I have this whole thing about saying yes: your life is only as interesting as the number of times you’re brave enough to say yes. All day long people ask you stuff — sometimes it’s as simple as do you want to go for a cup of coffee? Other times it’s do you want to do this play? If you say no, nothing changes. Nothing can happen! No means no. But yes means: I don’t know it could work out well, it could work out badly…You say yes, and there are possibilities. So all of a sudden, because of a whole mess of stuff, I started acting, I became involved in theater. And eventually, one day during rehearsals, my friend asked me, “Well, why don’t you write a play?”
Let me guess — you said, “Yes!”
I said, “I can’t, I’m dyslexic.” (Laughs) I said, “I can’t type, I can’t spell,” but he said there are people that can do that part for you! That’s when I finally said yes. I went home and I wrote a play, and I gave it to this director friend of mine, and he read it and said, “This is really awful. There is nothing salvageable here… Other than the fact that you did it.” That was the starting point. You don’t have to turn in something great all the time, that’s not the point of creating. The point of creating is not to paint the Mona Lisa every time you sit down. The point of creating is to create! It’s to see what comes out of you, because you never know. So, I threw that one out, I wrote another play, and we produced it! The Village Voice reviewed it and called me the devil come to earth. And I said, “Oh, I must be on to something.”
“We all borrow from one another, we all stand on each other’s shoulders, we all grow from one another.”
That was back in the 1980s when experimental theater was really thriving. Are you nostalgic for those days?
Oh, I don’t know that I have the energy for nostalgia! But it’s true that nobody will quite understand what we did back then… I do think a lot of work today wouldn’t be possible without the foundation that was built by the experimental theater of the seventies and eighties, especially what we had going on at La MaMa Experimental Theatre Club. If you think about Cole Escola’s Oh, Mary! and think about the work of Charles Ludlam, one wouldn’t be possible without the other. We all borrow from one another, we all stand on each other’s shoulders, we all grow from one another.
It seems like at the time, you could really be as outrageous as you wanted.
We did hit some walls! I remember we were doing a Christmas show at La MaMa and and I was playing the baby Jesus in gold lamé, and there were all these drag queens that came together as the Christmas tree… Three wise men came and gave me high heels and a dildo. Ellen Stewart, the founder of La MaMa, came to our dress rehearsal and just screamed out, “Nope! That’s it, no, no, not happening.” (Laughs) So we did have our limits.
Is it still possible to be as outrageous as you once were in the theater these days?
There will always be people pushing the limits, it’s just that they may push them differently today. There are safety rules and stuff like that now… Back then, in a theater that seats 100 people, we could get away with a little bit more. The audience knew what they were going to be facing.
What about when your musicals started transitioning from off-Broadway to Broadway? Did that change things in terms of how outrageous you could be?
It depends on the project and who the audience was. There were certainly some shows where I had offers to take it to Broadway, but they wanted me to take out certain scenes they deemed too vulgar! And I’d say, I’m not taking that out. And the audiences who came to see the show off-Broadway loved it and had no problems. So you have to make the choice!
Sometimes you also have to say no, I guess. How is it when your show does become a Broadway hit, like Kinky Boots, for example, and you have to then let it go to become its own thing? Kinky Boots has been running for over a decade now, and its productions have been in the hands of many different directors…
It’s like raising a child. It really is. You have that baby, and at first it’s in your arms, and you’re totally responsible for it. It’s you and that baby. And then the world starts opening up, other people come in, and it’s scary, but it’s like sending your kid off to school. The teachers are teaching them things that you may not have wanted them to learn, but they’re out in the world. You have to be a good parent and let them go. So especially with theater, this is a living thing. You have directors who have big ideas! Sometimes I hear their ideas and I say, “When I’m dead, darling, when I’m dead.” And other times I say, “I will back off and you go do your thing, baby.” So it’s really all about being a good parent.
“You never get rid of everything. You can’t! And why would you want to? You’re a product of every influence that’s ever hit you!”
Do you still carry those past works and past shows with you, even now when you might be writing something new?
You never get rid of everything. You can’t! And why would you want to? You’re a product of every influence that’s ever hit you — and I’m easily influenced. With something like Kinky Boots, I mean, of course I hold that close even now because I think it’s a wonderful, wonderful show. I worked on it with my friend Cyndi Lauper, and being able to create something together which we wouldn’t have done otherwise… That’s something we’re both so proud of.
What about past versions of yourself? Do you keep those close as well?
I’m still the same person! Do I understand some things better than before? Maybe. But I’m still the person, I don’t think I’ve changed. I hope I haven’t changed.
Has your connection to the theater stayed the same, too?
Oh, when you have an entire room of people all feeling the same thing together, all believing the same thing together, all taking that journey together… That magic will always be there! It’s a bit more rare for me these days because when I go to see a show, I know half the cast and crew, I know what’s going on. But that magic still exists, definitely. Sometimes if I’m seeing a show of mine, I like to walk down the aisle and lean against one of the exit doors and look back at the audience as they’re watching the show. I just love to see their faces, because that tells me if I’m reaching them or not. If they’re there with that look of wonder like a three year old, you’re getting to them. And that’s what you want.