another brush with fame

In the summer of 1999 there was a play I had to see. 

Despite a sold-out run, I went to the theater and waited for people not to show. And sure enough, I was able to snag a first-row seat.  It was a matinee and I went alone.  I figured the chances of getting one seat were better than getting two.

The play was called Bash: Latter Day Plays and contained three one acts. Attractive, relatable people each telling a chilling story of unforgettable violence. 15 years later, and I still remember the play’s three disturbing stories.  The playwright was Neil LaBute, and he soon became my favorite contemporary playwright.

  

I think I’ve seen every full-length play Neil LaBute has written since 1999. And tonight I am seeing The Power Shot at a theater in the West Village with my friend Carol.

I get to the theater early, and it is still mostly empty.  And there, standing in the back of the theater, I recognize the playwright.  Like a gushing teen, I go up to him and introduce myself, telling him how much I admire and love his work.  Despite the verbal brutality of some of his plays, Mr. LaBute is unassuming and engaging.  He is a total gentleman, and appears more than happy to talk to a fan, even posing for many iPhone photos until we agree upon a couple. 

I tell Mr. LaBute that I write a blog and give him my card.  I add that I’ll write about his play and what I think, and he replies, “Why not tell me before you leave?”  I go to my seat all excited.  But then I think, “Oh no, what if I hate the play?”  The chances I think are pretty slim, but still, what do I do if that happens?

Within the first few minutes of The Money Shot, my fear is gone.  But this is not typical Neil LaBute.  The play is a biting, insightful satire about the shallowness of Hollywood.  The writing, of course, is sharp and witty, and much of it is hilarious.  But true to the playwright’s original works, the alpha-male lead is beautifully drawn. He spouts idiotic facts with confidence. I loved this play.

Before leaving the theater, I approach Mr. LaBute and he says, “So, what did you think?”  I tell him the truth.  And then I say, “You create a-holes better than anyone.”  He laughs and says, “Maybe that’ll be my legacy.”

  

Like Gillian Flynn whom I recently met, I am amazed that such endearing, normal people can create such twisted characters.  I guess it’s part of their genius. 

I do wonder though, if their friends and families ever question the sources for their inspiration.