What I learned. . .
Deathtrap was one of those assignments that I was more happy to be offered for the opportunity to work than I was about the script itself. At least at first. But the greatest lessons of several I learned from getting to direct the play were to never underestimate a well-made play, never doubt the fun you can have when working on what’s generically known as a thriller, relish the opportunity that requires you to draw on technical craft as a director, and to invoke a well-worn but applicable cliché: don’t judge a book by it’s cover. Deathtrap turned out to be a treat from start to finish – all the more so because I wasn’t entirely sure it would be when I accepted Tim Bond’s offer to direct the play.
I had seen the original production of Ira Levin’s long-running hit on Broadway and mostly remembered the moment in Act I that is intended to provoke the greatest vocal response from the audience. It was essential that we ‘nail’ that moment, which required careful planning and collaboration among Bill Bloodgood (set designer), Lonnie Alcaraz (lighting designer), Joe Payne (sound designer), Susan Branch Towne (costume designer) and myself. Making sure that the double French doors through which Clifford must suddenly leap, fairly catapulting himself through the air to attack Sidney, were properly placed and could be noiselessly prepped open without giving anything away, lit just enough to be visible, supported by excellent sound design in the exact moment of the “reveal,” and providing a properly bloodied, muddied, and distressed set of clothing and make-up for Clifford was a top priority from first meetings and conversations about the play all the way through to opening night. And one of the great rewards of meticulous planning was sitting amidst playgoers at preview and opening performances who screamed out loud and jumped in their seats when the moment occurred. Job well done.
Part of the delight of working on the play was discovering the tightness and economy of the writing. Levin wasted not a word and left no thread of logic unexamined. Deathtrap holds up and is remarkably well constructed for what turns out to be a very reasonable running time.
It was also fun to revisit my childhood stomping grounds: Fairfield County, Connecticut, via a script that even managed to reference my hometown of Wilton. The references and environs were incredibly familiar; the buildings, roads, shops that Levin describes and invokes have a complete ring of truth as do the details of the time period in which the play is set. But perhaps the greatest joy of all was working once more with an excellent design team and in addition, a truly fun and gifted cast. James Lloyd Reynolds, Carl Howell, Anney Giobbe, Joyce Cohen, and Curzon Dobell could not have been more game or more ready to take the material seriously. James had played Sidney once before and some time prior to actual auditions and casting mentioned to me that Sidney was a bear of a role. When I saw James’s name on the list of actors coming in to read, I breathed a huge sigh of relief – and exhaled an even larger breath when he accepted the offer to reprise the role. Carl and I had also worked together before and had had a wonderful time; his readings for Clifford were completely convincing, and I suspected his chemistry with James would develop and pay off throughout the rehearsal and performance process. My instincts were correct. Anney Giobbe was new to me, but she brought what I felt was the right combination of fragility and intelligence to the role of Myra. I’d directed Joyce Cohen once before and had seen her work in a number of productions; the seriousness with which she approached Helga (a role entirely too easy to ‘cartoon’ or caricature) in auditions and callbacks was exactly what I was hoping for. And though Curzon Dobell had auditioned for me on several occasions for other productions, we had yet to work together. His ability to convey a sense of “Westport, Connecticut attorney” along with his slightly wacky, off-center sense of humor convinced me he was the right actor to play the small (two scenes) but crucial role of Porter Milgrim, Sidney and Myra’s attorney.
In addition to knowing what I was looking for in auditions (and lucking out that what I thought I was looking for actually showed up when it came time to cast), this was another production that benefitted from a generous rehearsal schedule. I am a firm believer that the best acting comes from a state of relaxation and that the only way to direct relaxation is to give actors the opportunity to repeat. Repetition leads to ownership leads to relaxation -- and relaxation leads to playfulness, which is always great as long as that playfulness takes place within the context of the production on which you’re working and the agreements you’ve reached with your cast and designers. And having a schedule that allows for several full run-throughs means that you, as director, have the opportunity to sit or stand back and absorb the play in its entirety and come to understand its structure from seeing it, start to finish, on more than one or two occasions, which is all too frequently the case in this age of tight time constraints. It also helps the actors “play through” and gain a sense of momentum, arc, and the requisite energy it takes to fulfill the playwright’s vision. Once more, I lucked out with Syracuse Stage’s rehearsal schedule.
It was also interesting to experience progress in audiences’s awareness and acceptance of gay relationships on stage. When Sidney and Clifford’s sexual-romantic connection became apparent towards the end of Act I, my sense was that the audience was far less shocked than it had been when the original production ran on Broadway. Then it seemed titillating and ground-breaking; now it seems merely interesting and familiar. No big deal, except in how the relationship affects the story and triggers the action. We seem to have made progress after all.
I think the final lesson I learned from directing Deathtrap was a small but significant one. When it comes to stage blood being visible to an audience, make sure the garment it appears on is white or very light colored. (And when in doubt, there’s nothing wrong with finding photographs from the original production to see what worked.) Susan Branch Towne and I jumped through several varied hoops (and probably drove the costume shop/wardrobe department nuts) before we found what should have been the obvious combination of clothing and palette for the “Sidney garottes Clifford” moment, which needs to be shocking and credible. We might have saved ourselves some time if we had simply gone to the source, as ‘twere. Fortunately, with much of the clothing for Deathtrap purchased and only five characters to costume, a bit of down-to-the-wire adjustment did not become a back-breaking straw. Sometimes though, it’s the easy and obvious lessons that we overlook of which we need to be reminded and which we continue to re-learn.
