Remembering Todd Haimes
Eight years ago, Shari, Michelle, Karen, and I took a chance on subscriptions to the Roundabout Theater. Lifelong friends, we were all theater lovers who refused to become that type of New Yorker who thinks reading about a production is a substitute for seeing it (and who eagerly interjects a critic’s insights into conversations as if they were their own). The tickets (roughly $70 a show) were a refreshing change from Broadway’s ever-more-prohibitive prices. If nothing else, we reasoned, it guaranteed a regularly scheduled “friends’ night out” (and a respite from the obligations of work and family).
Shari, Michelle and Karen enjoying a pre-theater meal at The West Bank Cafe
With text updates from the West Side Highway on Shari and Michelle’s ETA, espresso martinis for Jason at the Muse Hotel (across from the Laura Pels Theater), and Karen’s late arrivals at The West Bank Café leaving just enough time to wolf down her standard order of fries before heading to The American Airlines Theater, we fell into a satisfying “Roundabout rhythm.” One that enriched and cemented friendships I didn’t think could get any stronger.
For those many inspired evenings of theater (and the love and laughter that surrounded them), I will always be indebted to Todd Haimes. When Shari texted me last week with the news that the Roundabout’s Artistic Director had died at age 66, I was stilled by feelings of gratitude towards him. And struck by a poetic truth: This man who I never knew gave me so much I would have otherwise never known.
Like the stage hands, dressers and prop masters that are the theater’s backbone, Artistic Directors are often unheralded. And the job can seem a thankless one.You must pacify older theatergoers while wooing younger ones. Balance inspired old warhorses with inspiring new voices. Resist the trend of letting star-casting overwhelm the work. And above all else, make the box office hum. Mr. Haimes navigated this sometimes daunting landscape for four decades—beginning in 1986, when he was named Managing Director at only 26. Forced to use his personal credit card to cover expenses and stave off bankruptcy, Haimes eventually turned the non-profit around—employing unorthodox tactics for expanding its audience that are now commonplace (including early weekday curtain times to attract after-work crowds, special events for single and gay theatergoers, and livestreaming a performance of “She Loves Me” in 2016—a Broadway first.)
Haimes’ 1998 assessment that, “Somehow my taste seems to match up with what the public wants” chalks up his achievements to chance. But such a consistent track record can’t be attributed to luck alone. I think his unique talent wasn’t so much about being attuned to what the public wants as it was understanding what we—as humans—need. To sing out. And look in. To surrender to the works we love. And speak to the world we live in.
Lange has just finished filming “Long Day’s Journey Into Night” (alongside Ed Harris as James Tyrone).
Of the many productions that spoke to me over the last eight years, a few stand out:
The Humans (2015): This seemingly innocent look at a daughter hosting Thanksgiving dinner at her Chinatown apartment proved to be a terror-tinged catalog of familial feelings and failings. And the most affecting experience of my theater-going life.
On the 20th Century (2020): This musical comedy revival—which follows an aging actress, over-the-hill director, gangsters, and a religious fanatic on a slapstick journey aboard the famed Twentieth Century Limited—was the perfect showcase for Kristen Chenowith’s golden-age talents and proved her the equal of Merman and Martin.
Jessica Lange in “Long Day’s Journey into Night” (2016): There are no words.
“Trouble in Mind” (2022): Playwright Alice Childress’ refusal to tone down her play’s message delayed its Broadway premiere for nearly 70 years. But this chronicle of the indignities experienced by a Black stage actress was worth the wait—and had me looking at race (and Broadway darling, LaChanze) in a surprisingly new way.
You Will Get Sick (2022): Our subscription’s most surreal work to date, it proved that even a dark dystopian world and monstrous predatory birds can’t dim the joy that is Linda Lavin.
Amy and the Orphans (2017): At times a road trip, a meditation on parental culpability, an assault on state-funded institutions, and a beautiful tribute to the power of moviegoing, this play is many things. And playwright, Linsey Ferrentino gets away with every single one of them! I say, “Gets away with” because on the surface, none of it should work. At times it seemed too broad, too manipulative, too lacking in subtlety. And therein lies her considerable gift. While telegraphing big laughs, she allows the revelations, connections between characters, shared truths, and the meaning of her title to quietly show themselves. Never before have I been so totally aware of the efforts made to move me to laughter or tears while at the same time being completely overtaken by them.
Pictures from Home (2023): A word-perfect, wise (and surprisingly funny) treatise on the relationship between grown children and their parents AND photography’s relationship to real life and “truth” (Does a photograph capture the photographer’s truth? Or the subjects?) Though Pictures from Home (the photo memoir that inspired the play) was published 25 years before the advent of social media, its themes felt especially resonant in an age where people present their “preferred truths” online.
Jamie Brewer (middle) was the first actor with Down syndrome to lead an Off-Broadway production—and is set to reprise her role on film.
Jason, Shari & Jason’s twin brother, Chris (now a Roundabout subscriber, as well) enjoying another pre-theater dinner at The West Bank Cafe
While undoubtedly loved by others, there were certain productions I found less interesting. Eager to see the rarely-revived Rose Tattoo (2019), I found Marisa Tomei’s exaggerated depiction of the Italian widow’s sexual hunger more in keeping with “The Golden Girls” than Tennessee Williams’ melancholic world. Sadly, Merrily We Roll Along (2019)* again proved that unforgettable songs can’t compensate for an unfixable premise (which follows the fortunes of three good friends in reverse chronology). And while Bernhardt/Hamlet (2018) never answered the question of whether the actress’s portrayal of Shakespeare’s Prince silenced sexist critics, it DID open at an interesting time—one where the women’s empowerment movements #MeToo and Time’s Up lent a dramatic timeliness to Bernhardt’s own struggles 120 years ago. (The play would have been a lot less interesting, otherwise.)
It’s the prompting of thoughtful assessments like these that make any stage production worthy. And it was the rare Roundabout production that gave us little to talk about.
While setting the standards for consistency and entrepreneurship are Haimes’ most obvious legacy, his commitment to diversity and accountability may be his most lasting. From challenging implicit bias in programming, casting, and hiring decisions to exploring options to reconcile pay-equity between Broadway and off-Broadway spaces, the Theater’s plan is far-reaching. It has pledged to make 50% of its productions BIPOC (Black, Indigenous and People of Color) stories and at least 50% of its creative teams BIPOC over the next 5 years.
No doubt the next season will bear Haimes’ stamp. And his influence will last much longer. Sadly, Michelle is no longer with us and Karen has moved to L.A.—making memories of past nights whispering shoulder-to-shoulder in our orchestra seats mean even more. I thank Todd Haimes for them. Over the past eight years, he has welcomed audiences and thanked subscribers before the curtain went up. His recorded voice often made me think of the Wizard commanding Dorothy to, “Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.” Funny, considering that Haimes lived to raise the curtain. And grab our attention.
His voice and theater-world wizardry will be missed.
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*Merrily We Roll Along fans won’t be disappointed by the 2016 documentary, Best Worst Thing That Ever Could Have Happened, which chronicles the musical’s creation and is directed by Lonnie Price (who originated the role of the playwright-lyricist, Charley Kringas).