San Francisco Chronicle - (Sunday)
McNally reflects on life, love, work
from his pioneering portrayals of openly gay characters to his own more recent appraisals of his admittedly turbulent yet “intensely lived” life. McNally, 79, spoke recently by phone from New York.
Q: It seems fitting that one of the first shots in the documentary is of framed photos in your home of your close friends and colleagues — Nathan Lane, Angela Lansbury, Wendy Wasserstein and many others.
A: I agree. I’ve always thought the key to a good life is our relationships, knowing who your friends are. In that regard, I’ve been very fortunate.
It’s wonderful when you find actors who understand you and share your worldview. You don’t have to explain if a line is funny or sad. Nathan Lane is a perfect example. All
these years, and Nathan and I have never had a serious discussion about how to play a scene.
Q: Your play “Corpus Christi” was overwhelmed by controversy and protest before its premiere in 1998, and yet you call it one of the artistic moments you most treasure. Why?
A: I thought it was one of the most beautifully directed plays I’ve ever experienced. Simple, poetic direction with almost no scenery, just a joyful expression of pure theater. Outside there was this social storm rising, but Joe (Mantello) was very good at making sure we stayed focused on doing the play.
Just the other day I told my husband, Tom (Kirdahy), that I really did not anticipate the furor. I felt so ambushed when it happened. He said, “Did you think you could write a play in which Jesus Christ and the apostles are gay men and not expect radical protests?” I guess I was very naive. But I can’t be the first person to have thought: “Hmm, there were 12 men. None of them were married. What’s going on?”
Q: You were an early advocate of marriage equality and were on the front lines in terms of exploring gay identity and the AIDS crisis in your plays. How do you see your LGBTQ activism and your playwriting as connected?
A: There are issues that I just couldn’t not be vocal about. Theater affects people in a way that almost no other art from can. Just this past winter, Tom and I were driving to Florida and stopped at a local theater doing a production of “Mothers and Sons.” Afterwards, a woman came up, trying not to cry. She said, “This afternoon my son told me he was gay, and I told him to get out of the house, that I never wanted to speak to him again until he reformed.” Then she burst into tears and said, “I don’t want to be that woman (in the play, based in part on McNally’s mother), what should I do?” We said, “Find him, hug him and tell him you love him. That’s all you have to do.” That’s the power of theater. I don’t think that would’ve happened in a
Every Act of Life:
3:45 p.m. Saturday, June 16, Castro Theatre. $12 Frameline members, $14 general. www.frameline.org
movie theater.
Q: Was it challenging being openly gay in the late 1950s when your boyfriend, Edward Albee, was adamant about remaining closeted?
A: Edward didn’t want to be reviewed as a gay playwright and was never comfortable coming out. That’s one of about a million reasons why that relationship was never going to go anywhere. I became invisible when press was around or at an opening night. I knew it was wrong. It’s so much work to live that way. We were also drinking way too much. I met Edward when I was a junior at Columbia. I’m so glad same-sex marriage is available to us now, but I’m glad it wasn’t when I was 19. (Laughs) We did eventually become friends again, and I’m glad.
Q: You’re honest in the film about the degree to which all the accolades you’ve received, the Tony Awards and the fame, didn’t help you feel deserving of your place in the American theater until quite recently. Why do you think your success didn’t sink in sooner?
A: I think it’s a lot to do with your upbringing. I was never quite good enough to please my parents. There was always a criticism. Finally, one day I just said, “They’re both gone, and I’ve got to start pleasing myself.”
I was inducted into the American Academy of Arts and Letters yesterday, and that’s about the highest honor that you can get. I finally thought, “I belong here. I’ve worked hard, and I did this.” It felt really nice. I don’t like people who boast, but I think it’s a fair self-appraisal. I’m going to be 80 in November, and I’m well aware that my third act has begun and I want to write myself the best third act I can.
Jessica Zack is a freelance writer who frequently covers art and film for The San Francisco Chronicle. Twitter: @jwzack