Jim Brochu
Just concluded a fourteen month run as Zero Mostel in his solo play, “Zero Hour” directed by Piper Laurie,Off-Broadway in New York City (Drama Desk Award, Helen Hayes, Carbonell, Ovation Awards), His other plays include “The Big Voice: God or Merman?” (Los Angeles Ovation Award, Ovation Award), “Cookin’ with Gus,” “The Lucky O’Learys” with Kathleen Freeman, “Fat Chance,” “The Lady Of The House,” “Fat Chance,” and “The Last Session” with Steve Schalchlin, which he also directed (Drama League and Outer Critics Circle noms., Oscar Wilde Award, GLAAD Media Award, LA Drama Critic’s Circle Award). Mr. Brochu’s Off-Broadway appearances include “Berkeley Square” with Christopher Reeve (MTC), Robert Lowell’s “Endicott And The Red Cross” (American Place Theatre), “Unfair To Goliath,” “To Be Or Not To Be…,” “Skye,” and “Greenwillow.” He appeared in two legendary television commercials: a dancing raisin (Post Raisin Bran), and as the “Lemon from Outer Space” with Madge the Manicurist (Palmolive). His TV work includes “All My Children,” “The Young and The Restless,” “Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman,” “Sirota’s Court”. Regionally, he has appeared across the country, and originated the role of Flint in “Something’s Afoot,” and as Marvin in Robert Patrick’s “T-Shirts.” Mr. Brochu books include Lucy in the Afternoon - a Biography of Lucille Ball, and his autobiography, Watching from the Wings.
What led you to want to create a play about Zero Mostel?
Zero had an enormous affect on my life. I met him when I was fourteen. David Burns was my mentor; I knew I wanted to be an actor early on. Davy took me under his wing after I saw him in a performance in “A Funny Thing Funny Happened on the Way to the Forum.” I did not know what a “Zero” was; I saw his name above the title. I had been going to the theater to see plays but when I sat in the theater and saw him, I was blown away by him. He was towering.
I was going to West Point and had my uniform on. I went backstage and saw Davy; security was not as challenging then as it is now. I had to cross the stage to get to the dressing room, and I was standing there , and as I turned I ran into Zero. He was soaking wet and he looked at me in my uniform: “Who are you!” boomed out of his mouth. This play is really a tribute to Zero – that’s why I did the play.
And you got to know him?
When I was going to Carnegie Tech and was taking every acting course possible, my best friend in college kept saying he’ll be the next best great composer – his name was Stephen Schwartz. So I got us tickets to see “Fiddler.” We went to the second night on Broadway. (Stephen and I, we’re still friends 46 years later.) Well, watching “Fiddler,” I knew Zero was a comic genius but I never realized the depth of him as an actor. It was truly an amazing experience. He and I would hang out together later on.
How were you able to write the play?
I heard him in my head when I wrote it; it’s true of every character when it’s working. When they’re talking, it’s like taking dictation. I was familiar with him a lot. And the work is really done in front of an audience. They tell you and you can feel when they’re phasing out or you can feel the electricity of the silences and hear the big bellyaches.
Did you know Piper Laurie before she became your director?
We’re old friends. When I told her I was writing this play, she told me “I’m in.” She was in on the writing stage. She would tell me stories about Zero, when they went to the Tip Toe Inn, his favorite coffee shop. I did a reading of the play, and she came to see it. She gave me some suggestions; you need something here, something there. I said to her: I think you’re the director. It wasn’t a typical actor-director relationship but I knew I needed an eye out front. She’s a very classy lady. Her acting abilities are instinctual, impeccable.
What kinds of discoveries did you found performing the play?
I discovered a lot of things, mostly about my own interpretation, certain emphasis here and there. I see things differently after a couple of years. I’m continually re-writing the show. There been some real changes since playing here in New York, as Jim, the writer, will think about Jim, the actor, and I make a mental note.
Zero was really two people. He was the painter, when he was by himself; a quiet, introspective man, and then when he was on, he was Zero the performer. When I’m Zero the painter I can get all caught up in painting, I will forget where I am in the play. I do a new complete painting every night during the performance of the interviewer; a fresh painting every night.
You also included the time Zero Mostel was blacklisted.
I had no choice. Many years of his life was affected by that period. He cared so deeply for his friends who were blacklisted, for Phillip Loeb. Zero never joined the Party because it cost so much money, but he went to meetings to meet girls. It’s an important heart of the play.
Another play you wrote was “The Big Voice: God or Merman?”
We played at this very theatre, the very first show. We received beyond ecstatic response here; it was the seventh city we brought the show to. There were tremendous reviews all along the way, in Florida… every stop along the way, I’d hear things and I’d make cuts and changes by about ten minutes. The audience tells you everything.
With “Zero Hour,” I love it when they’re so involved, they become the interviewer and the fun is when they start to answer back. Someone told me, they wanted Danny Kaye for “Fiddler,” instead of Zero, I had to break the fourth wall, and answer them back.
When you started out in show business, four extraordinary performers had a huge influence on you: Davy Burns, Lou Jacobi, Jack Gilford and Jack Albertson.
I knew Davy through my father. My father worked on Wall Street, he handled his investments. I was taken to see as a young boy to see “The Music Man, and was very quickly introduced to him backstage. I couldn’t figure out why I was drawn to the theatre. When I saw him in Do Re Mi,” I was about 13 and we had dinner together. Davey had the foulest mouth in show business. Even my father would wince. And he was the dirtiest of old men, if he did half the things he did then today, he’d have been arrested.
I met Lou Jacobi through Davey. They were doing the “Millikin Breakfast Show,” a one hour show at the Waldorf Astoria every year. You could have breakfast with all these Broadway people. Davey, Peggy Cass and Lou were just around the time. Lou and I became very close. I met Jack Albertson backstage when he was in “Hello Dolly,” and then I met Jack Gilford, also through Davey.
Another of your successful shows is the musical, “The Last Session,” how did that begin?
Steve and I wrote it together. At the time we were writing together, he was getting a therapy, and I saw what it was doing to him – he was dying, and these songs came out of his hospital experiences. But I knew when you’re engaged in creating something you feel much better. So we worked together.
It had begun in ’95, when we were at a friend’s house who had a recording studio, and Steve sat down at the piano and began singing. I saw the whole play at that moment. I knew who the characters were, they were there in “a flash of grace,” that’s what I always call it.
What keeps surprising you about being in show business?
Everything! I’m constantly surprised. The latest surprise is I don’t have to introduce myself; that’s very strange. People say: I know who you are. I wonder: How do you know? You won this award, you were in that show; it still feels odd. I ran into Nathan Lane. He said: ”Hi ya, Jim. How are you? It’s a wonderful thing to happen at my tender age.
I love the business. It’s still a mystery. But don’t ask me to talk about what I do, I couldn’t begin to tell you. I’d get thrown out of every acting class. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m asked to come and talk to acting classes, I don’t know where to begin. I tell people: “By the grace of God.” I want to tell a story, we’re story tellers, and I was given the ability to write a play.
