For a review of Taylor Mac’s The Be(a)st of Taylor Mac, which opened last week at the Undermain Theatre, visit here.
FrontRow: This is a farewell tour for The Be(a)st of Taylor Mac. Why are you retiring the show?
Taylor Mac: I’ve been doing it for four years, and I just decided that I’ve done it over 200 times, and I still really like it. It’s always changing so it’s up to date, but I just felt like – it gets really lonely performing solo work, so I’m kind of breaking away from the solo thing. My last show had 36 people. I just had such a good time that I thought, “Well this is obviously what you want at this time in your life.” I’ve done maybe six or seven solo shows and it’s just like time – I feel like I’ve really explored all – not all that I can with the solo genre – but certainly enough for right now. So I’ll take a little break from it. But I love doing [The Be(a)st]. I had actually not done it for six months because I was working on this five-hour play in the city, and then I just did it at Yale for the first time – this show – for three shows, and I had such a great time that I forgot how much fun I had. But I’m still going to retire it because — it’s just time.
FR: Do you find that your mind tends to work in terms of solo shows, that when you sit down to write, the ideas tend towards becoming solo shows?
TM: What I tend to do is this thing that I learned from Dorothy Allison which is to write down the one thing about myself that I don’t want anyone else to know about me, and then I go “that’s what it’s about.” And whether or not I mask that in metaphor or do it literally depends on what I am writing down or what I’ve done recently in the past or how the piece starts to kind of work out – what I’m exactly trying to communicate. It really depends on the piece. I didn’t set out to make the 36 cast member, five hour play [The Lily’s Revenge]. I thought it would be 90 minutes and it would have maybe eight people. And when I started to explore the topic, I discovered that it needed to be epic, and that’s because the topic declared it. But this particular piece is really about trying to show the range that a single human being. So that’s why it is lonely.
FR: The Be(a)st is a show that sometimes feels like stand-up comedy – more routine than theater. Is that an important distinction for you, whether a work is theater, or comedy, or something else?
TM: I think everything’s a play. I think if you walk down the street from A to B, that’s a play because you’re always communicating with everything you do. There’s always a central character, you always want something, and you always try to get it or you don’t. So everything’s a play. So it’s really just whether or not you want to call it a play or not. My work is the premise of a theater artist working in the genre of pastiche. So if I just went to a stand up club and I performed this work I don’t know if I’d get booed off the stage, but you know people would think, “What?” because it is not just stand up. It is stand up, it is cabaret, it is musical theater, it is theater of the ridiculous, it’s mask work, it’s Commedia dell’arte, it’s performance art – it’s all of those things all squished together. So the appropriate place for it, even though I have performed it in clubs and libraries and museum, but the appropriate place is a theater because a theater is a place where anything can happen – it is not so narrow, so that’s why I prefer to do them in theater.
FR: There is a particular relationship between a theater audience and the performer that your work is constantly playing with.
TM: I recently saw a play on Broadway, and I thought wow if this audience wasn’t here this play would be exactly the same – not a single thing would be different. There might be a little shorter pause for the laughter, but [the actors] knew their beats and they hit them. And people like that kind of theater, and I don’t know why. I’m not interested in that kind of theater. I feel that television and film do that really well – they do it better than theater. So I prefer the theater that relies on the audience. It doesn’t have to be in a literally way, in like ‘hey how are you doing out there,’ and all of that thing. But it really depends on what the audience is doing and what this evening is, and what is happening in this moment. And audiences love it. When you acknowledge the present moment they love it, they’re craving for it. They don’t want to be taken away from their seats. They may say that’s what they want, but that is what they’ve been trained to say – that they want to be taken away and to go on a journey and all that stuff. But I’m like no! We’re having a shared experience, because otherwise you could just stay home and watch it on TV, and that will take them away from their home, and that’s what that’s for. But you don’t go and hang out with other people in a room to forget them.
I was recently in a [university] class [about Greek theater]. The students, their acting is very realistic and they are all going to be movie stars and they are all beautiful and they are going to have lovely careers because they’ve gone to a fancy school and they’ve got talent and they do all that stuff. But they were doing the Greeks and it was like, okay, you’ve reduced this Greek play. They are doing this high-stakes – big huge theatrical high-stakes; it used to be performed for like 10,000 people with big, huge platform shoes and big arms and huge masks and all this stuff – and they are turning it into a TV drama of the week. And you’re like “What are you doing?” You just want to scream. And they are having the hardest time doing it. And the reason it is hard is because they are being asked to be honest. F**k honesty. The truth in this circumstance is that it is larger than life – that’s the truth.