DIABLO CODY ON THE POWER OF PERFORMANCE

The Oscar-winning screenwriter of Juno transformed Alanis Morissette’s iconic album Jagged Little Pill into a Broadway show. As the musical prepares for its Australian premiere, Cody writes about the way art moves you, whether live on stage or listening to a record in your childhood bedroom.

Ican remember the exact moment when I first heard Alanis Morissette’s music. Honestly, in retrospect, it’s kind of crazy that I remember it, because I listened to so much music as a teenager. I was 15 and sitting in my bedroom in Chicago listening to the radio. The DJ said: “I’m about to play a song, and I think it’s going to blow people’s minds.” I was surprised – this was a big corporate radio station and they didn’t usually talk about the music. I thought: ‘I gotta hear this.’ And that song was You Oughta Know.

I sat there riveted. Because that song is more than a song, it’s an exorcism. It builds and builds and builds and it takes you to this place of total catharsis. I remember thinking, who is this? A lot of pop music is about escapism; let’s ignore what’s happening and put our heads in the sand. That kind of music serves its purpose and I certainly enjoy it in the right environment. The thing with Alanis is she is singing about some uncomfortable and provocative things. She’s very earnest and raw and real. Her music is not always happy. Sometimes it is – sometimes it’s absolutely joyful. But she has this song called Wake Up that is a harsh indictment of people who refuse to acknowledge when bad things are happening. That resonated so much with me that I now have ‘Wake

Up’ tattooed on my arm. I love my family, but I grew up in a house where we were encouraged to keep our feelings inside and to not talk about the bad things that were happening, whether it was addiction or abuse. I think Alanis grew up in a similar environment. Her music is calling out that culture and saying, actually, we can’t heal until we acknowledge that something is wrong.

Alanis and I are basically the same age and I feel like I grew up with her. As she evolved into an adult and then a mother, I was right there on that path with her. Then, in our 40s, we somehow intersected. At the time I was approached to write the Jagged Little Pill musical, I had just had my third child and written a movie called Tully, starring Charlize Theron, about postpartum psychosis. I assumed I would try writing more films. My first reaction, I have to confess, was a little confused. Alanis’s songs are so emotional and so real that I didn’t know how that translated to Broadway. I was picturing The Lion King – a big spectacle. Then I heard that Diane Paulus – who is absolutely brilliant – was going to be directing the show. And I thought: ‘I love this music. I trust this director. I think I have to try.’

I tend to be a realist about these things. I knew that getting a show to Broadway was a huge task and not a guarantee, and that it was going to require a lot of time and a lot of effort and a lot of luck.

I went into it thinking, let’s just see how this goes. Even if nothing happens with this project, I will get to meet Alanis Morissette and hang out with her.

After that first meeting, I was totally locked in. She’s the most incredible person, the most generous, the most intuitive, the most empathetic. She gave me what I needed and nurtured me as a writer, and at the same time allowed me the freedom to go wherever I wanted with the story. I really could not have asked for a better collaborator. She is a role model as a mother who’s never stopped making art, because that’s always a challenge for me. Sometimes I just want to give up because I’m so tired. She’s inexhaustible.

The first time I ever saw Jagged Little Pill with an audience I was shaking. It was terrifying. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how much was at stake. There are so many people involved: cast, crew, the audience who have bought tickets and who want to be entertained. I thought: ‘God, if this sucks, it’s my fault.’ The stakes are high with a film too, but this was an advanced level of frightening. I still feel that way. Every time I see the show, and I have seen it hundreds of times, it rattles me. They would make fun of me in the theatre because I had a bad habit of pacing in the back during the show. I wasn’t aware that people could see this happening. One of the ushers got concerned, because he didn’t know I was the writer. Who is this woman constantly pacing around? What is wrong with her? I wish I knew what was wrong with me. Anxiety!

Theatre is primal. It has to be one of our earliest collective experiences as humans. I don’t know when the first play was staged, but I’m guessing it was a very long time ago. When you go to see a musical, you know that so many people’s dreams are coming true on that stage. And our show is very emotional: we talk a lot about psychotherapy, dysfunctional families, trauma. There are people crying in that room every night and they’re responding to a very real thing that is unfolding in front of them. It’s a shockingly intimate experience and you feel the collective vulnerability. I’ve been to many plays and concerts and I had experienced that group energy before. But to go into a theatre every night, as I did during previews on Broadway, and to be able to watch an audience react in real time to this story – for me, it was the apex of experience as a creator. I used to think the best thing in the world was sneaking into the back of a movie theatre and watching people react to a film that I’d written. But a musical goes above and beyond that. I can’t imagine anything better.

Jagged Little Pill opens September 23 at Sydney’s Theatre Royal. Tickets are available now. For more information, go to jaggedmusical.com.

Theatre is primal. It has to be one of our earliest collective experiences as humans