Interview with Playwright Jason Mitchell

Interview by Noralil Fores

The new play "The Red Box" chronicles the travails of a gay man, Victor, during the Holocaust. Told in flashback, the play shares an often-neglected story by focusing not on the hardships of the war but on the beauty and strength of love. The show opened March 2 in New York City and continued until March 12. Noralil Fores talked to playwright Jason Mitchell about his work back in February.

How was the script development process, and where did you pull a lot of your ideas from?

Initially, the seed was planted when I was a freshman in college, and I was an acting major. We had to read plays each week, just to build up the repertoire of plays that we knew. I stumbled across the play "Bent," which for one reason or another, I had never heard of and never knew. It came out in 1979 and as far as I know it's the only play that deals with gay people in the Holocaust. It really blew me out of the water because I felt that I grew up as a Jewish person very educated on the subject of the Holocaust. I felt cheated that I never learned about this other group. Being both gay and Jewish, that had a strong impact on me. I grew rather obsessed with the subject matter, and out of personal interest started studying the subject matter throughout college.

Then when we were seniors, we all had to do one-person shows that we were allowed to create. For me, at that point, there was no choice other than to do a play that dealt with gay and Jewish issues during the Holocaust. My background as a romantic inspired me to create this through the idea of a love story. I've seen such effective cases-- and I know this sounds generic, as in Titanic or Gone With the Wind-- where you see this fictitious love story with the background of a horrible lesson in history. That really serves a strong purpose; you can get the information out there about the history, but then you create a story and human element that an audience can really connect with. You go through this history with them.

So, that was the seed, and I started writing. I knew the beginning and the end of the show and spent close to two years trying to figure out the middle and who these other characters were, how they were going to become part of [Victor's] life, and why they were important in the play. I don't know if that's how all writers write, but that's how this play was written.

How did Victor develop, and how did he change and grow in that three-year span?

It took me a long time to learn realistically. It's a fanciful idea. It's my romantic side. Here's this creative, spunky guy who's a lot like I was as a kid, and he falls in love for the first time. It changes him so much for the better, and then everything he knows as positive-- this feeling of love and feeling of being to understand yourself-- then gets taken away by this horrible event in history.

What I had to learn was: How do I realistically create a character going through that? For me, I have nothing to relate to in my life that's comparable to going through the Holocaust, running away from home, following your heart on the street, then being arrested and taken to a concentration camp. So, that took a lot of reasoning, a lot of sitting down to say, "If I really understand who this is, if this is really what happens, how do I react? How do I talk about what I'm doing in a realistic way?" He's an interesting character. He's really naïve because he's in love and blinded, but he's not dumb. His parents are savvy; they own a store and even though they are not warm with him, they are educated people. That was the thing that for two years I played back and forth: actions, decisions, how he responds to certain situations, and then as a piece of theater, looking at creating a story that would allowed him the greatest arc to follow.

Outside of character development to pinpoint a human element for the story, how much research did you have to do? How many people did you have to talk to in order to get a clean basis for the historical and technical elements?

Here's the good news and the bad news all in one. There's not much research to be done on gay people in the Holocaust. It's scavenged from such a limited pool, but that just fuels me all the more as a writer and understanding the importance of getting this play out there. It is estimated that one quarter to a half million homosexuals were imprisoned or affected by the Holocaust. In 2000, a documentary came out called Paragraph 175. At that point there were less than ten known survivors. Only five of them came forward to talk. Other than that, there are two published autobiographies of survivors. One of them was anonymous, and the other was by a French survivor who documented the stories in a first-hand account. Other than that it's just of the multitude of Jewish survivors. Every once in a while they have a paragraph that will make mention of a gay person they knew in a camp. It was such a limited pool to choose from that I got my hands on everything that I could, but it really wasn't that much.

You said earlier that when you see a well-written show, you think of those themes [from that show] for quite a while after.

When writing anything, the goal-- this is usually what I prefer when I see or read-- is that you don't want to wrap everything up. It's not a compliment to your audience [for them] to just go home applauding. You want your audience to go home thinking and questioning, wondering what happens the next day of these characters' lives. Do they move on? What are their new sets of challenges to deal with? So, to me, that is the best thing for me, that people have questions after seeing a show, that they want to know, that they have to use their imaginations to create.

How does that sense of questioning apply to your writing process for "The Red Box"?

The main scenes that we have re-written are the ones that deal with the interviewer and Old Victor. People always want to know if they are going to have a relationship after this play. People want to know what happens in between the time of the main action when Victor is between the ages of 15 to18 until now in 2006, when he's 85. People want to know what happened in there, and I think that's neat that people have to wonder about it.

In terms of interpretations, because there is that freedom for people to bring in their own ideas about what's happened to him and to them, do you have a strict interpretation in your head of that time, or is it more free for you?

It's freer for me. I feel like everyone is going to interpret what's going to happen to this character in a different way and see more of one side of his personality than the other. For me, I see both, and I like that. It's when people think that he's just too closed off, that even after receiving that information that he was genuinely loved, that after 85 years of being so closed off that it won't effect him to open him back up. Then some people believe in the power of love, that by getting that moment at the end of the show, he will have the ability to open up again. For whatever limited time, he has a chance to reawaken and find his inner self again. I like that you as an audience member get to decide.

Talking about the evolution of the show. You have a stage play that exists on paper and that's evolved in this two-year process. Now it's walking into production. How has it evolved now that it's on stage?

It's evolved a tremendous amount. I did a reading of the play in June. I had gotten to that point where I thought, "I know what the red box is, but if I want to find out anything else, I need to see it on its feet. I have to hear how it sounds with actors reading it. I have to get their feedback on how it feels to read it as an actor."

So, I did this reading in June, and the greatest thing that I learned from it was about the lives of the supporting characters. I wrote these people because they affect Victor's life. I wrote them in scenes that all deal with Victor's story. But, when an actor goes to play a part like [Victor's] mother or a person he meets in the camp, even though we don't see the other scenes, [the audience] needs to know where this character comes from, what was he doing before he met Victor, and what does he do after he leaves Victor.

I feel that the reading I did in June was successful for all of the characters with the exception of one-- Barbara, the interviewer. That character has stumped me from the day I started writing this play until very recently. I only knew what her purpose was at the end of the play, and I was never able to give her real character. As a crutch, I created her as a formal interviewer. Until you get the payoff at the end of the show, everyone would say, "Well, it's not very interesting, the interview section. Love's a memory, but it's so formal. All it does is say, 'This is what's about to happen, and then you see it.' Then here's how he comments."

I knew if I ever wanted to up the stakes with this play and really make it great, that interview has to be a play of itself, but I never knew how to do that. I was really stumped, and I couldn't find any ideas.

It was the actress whom we cast. She came to the first read-through, and I told the actors that this play was not done, that I would love their feedback, that it's a collaborative effort. She came up to me and said, "I think this is a beautiful play, and I get where you're going. But, I have to tell you that as a woman my age, I don't think if I really wasn't a legitimate interviewer, and I came over and find out what I really came to find out on page five, that I would wait until page 100 to open my mouth." I said, "You're absolutely right."

So, I worked with the director on how to make this more interesting. I think we found a great thing which is that we have a scene early on in the play where Barbara tries to leave, and she says, "Thank you, Victor, but this just isn't the story I came here for." It really helped us to strengthen the character of Victor because what we get is that she pesters him at the beginning to open up, to connect to his own voice again and once he starts he has that need to finish because he's never done that before. So, he says to her, "You pushed for this. You started it. You sit down. This is my story."

Working off that idea, you said that you were very open to active suggestions. What is that process of opening up your script for constructive criticism or total change like?

It's good and it's bad. I don't think I could have done it any earlier in the process than I [did]. I had to know in my heart and in my mind what the play was about, what it stood for, that I knew for the most part who these people were, and what I believed about the show. That way someone could ask me a question, and if I don't know the answer, that's usually a good thing. That means I've missed something. I really like that because I did my research on these famous playwrights that I respect. What I had to get used to is that although you get full credit, you don't do it on your own.

When we read plays or see plays, they've gone through all these workshops. Some go through it for two years before they ever open. When you're doing plays and studying human behavior, a lot of it is just trial and error. Sometimes you think you know how someone's going to react; then all the sudden ten rehearsals later, you think, "Well, what if we try it this way?" And, you know what? That usually makes so much more sense. I feel like the more closed off you are to [change] the worse off that you are as an artist. I like being open to it, and I'm thankful that I have really smart actors, that I didn't get actors who just want to say lines that are on the page but that they are actors who really think, "Why am I saying this?" and "Why is this written? Do I like the challenge of it?"

How did "The Red Box" get picked up?

That expression in theater of being in the right place at the right time happened to me. I had done my reading in June, and it got such good feedback. We got the actors who were in it to put it up, and they were allowed to invite friends to come to see it. I didn't invite any industry people. It was just their friends and my friends, and it went so well that I thought, "Well, I guess I don't need to do another reading. Well, now what do you do?"

This is my first attempt at playwriting, and I really didn't know what playwrights do. I was reading this book over the summer called The Script Is Finished So Now What Do I Do? and I was about to start submitting it to festivals when I met this girl who is now producing my play at a friend's bachelorette party. We just struck up conversation because we were sitting next to each other. She's a Jewish girl, and I happened to say, "Oh, well, I wrote this play about the Holocaust." She said, "Oh, I'm reading scripts so send it to me."

So, I sent her the script, and she got back to me. We met up for coffee, and she said, "Jason, I have been reading about 20 scripts a week. I have been looking for a project to do in New York, and if you are interested, I would love for it to be 'The Red Box.' It's the first script that's really jumped off the page for me." So, it was an ounce of luck.

What has pulling in the actors and working with the producer been like?

It's been a learning experience. The director on the project is very smart and has a lot of experience working in New York City. She's known me for a long time. I've been in work she's directed. About a year and half ago, she was directing a show and asked me to be her assistant director. So we've worked together in a lot of different mediums, and she's a writer as well so for a long time she's been reading new scenes in drafts I've been writing.

Having her professional clout has added to the show, and it's the same with the producer. She's currently the personal assistant to a very large Broadway producer. [The director and producer] are in a whole different medium than I ever expected to be in, but they really work with the best of the best. It was really strange to feel that this play I started doing as a hobby was now having production meetings with a designer who works on Broadway. Then we got actors to come in, and the man who is playing Old Vic has been in more than eight Broadway shows. Then here I am, this little playwright from South Florida, but it's thrilling. The director said to me, "You know, Jason, I really admire you. You're 25 and rather than being scared about all of this, you just jumped right in. You dove head first. That's the way to do it."

I told myself from the beginning when I signed with Sarah, I said, "Jason, just remember that ideally you want to get the show bought and picked up, that you want it to have a life beyond this production. But, the most important thing to gain from this is whatever I'm going to learn from this process." I have that written out, and I read it everyday to remind myself why I'm doing this and what's important about it.

I've learned a lot, and it's been very hard. There are days when you have to put your self-esteem or your ego on the backburner and remember that you just want what's best for the play. That's easier to say than it is to do.

Can you explain more about that, giving up your ego for the greater good?

When actors or the director ask me a question, I usually feel embarrassed because I don't know the answer right away. You want to take on this role of the smart playwright who knows everything and doesn't miss a beat. But, it's unrealistic to think that any human being could do that. So, [the mistakes] happen. They ask me a question, and if I don't know or if I've made a mistake, I'm not great at admitting that on the spot. I usually have to think about it. Sometimes I'll give the wrong answer for the sake of feeling that I had a thought. Then it will take me thinking, "Now, why did you do that? That's not right." Then five minutes later, I'll say, "The more I think about it, this isn't working, or this is a better idea." That's when I know that I'm accepting that the cast, the director, and everyone else involved doesn't want anything other than for the play to be its very best. They're not stealing anything from me; they're not trying to change my intentions. They're just helping me make them clearer and stronger. When you remind yourself of that, it's easier.

In a sense, you fell into writing. In the future, do you want to continue writing, and what kind of topics do you want to look at at that point?

I absolutely want to continue to write. I don't know if this is just me at 25, or if I'm going to have a career change, but I have loved this process so much. It's fun to create. It's different as an actor, especially when you're in an academic situation, because you have a lot more opportunities to explore and play around. You don't really get that professionally as an actor unless you're part of a theater company, which I'm not.

As a writer, you can go home everyday, sit down, and play. You don't have to send that draft to anyone until you feel ready to get other people's opinions. This play in particular is so subject matter specific because I was so impassioned to get more [information] out there about gay people in the Holocaust. I don't know if I'll write another play that is quite like that only because I haven't discovered another subject matter that has affected me so much. I know there are clearly other political events that are as important, but I don't know if I'm the next candidate to write the next AIDS play.

You have to write about what you're really passionate about, and I'm fascinated at 25, and it's not a unique concept, by relationships. So, I am working on a new play, after living with the Holocaust play in my head for three years, that is a comedy. It's about relationships and friendships and how those lines can become blurry.

Now, with "The Red Box" and this new show, what is that process like of sitting down at the computer and saying, "Okay, this is my time to write"?

When I was writing "The Red Box" a long time ago, someone had forwarded me something written by a playwriting teacher. He said, "The best thing you can do in writing is never limit yourself." Don't worry about how it's going to happen on stage, and hopefully, one day you'll be so lucky to be in a production meeting where you'll have to figure that out. But, in the writing process, don't think about that: about having too many sets or too few sets, having too many characters. So, I certainly didn't think about any of that when I was writing this play that has a million locations, 98 scene changes, and all these bit characters. Then as it turns out, none of that had to get changed. There weren't any discrepancies because the play is done in a minimalist way. It's done easily with nine actors and a set that has only a few doorframes and a bench.

Now, I know going in that you can write with no limits, and that's very exciting to sit down and create. I looked at the first draft of "The Red Box" and compared it to where it is now, and that is a huge difference. Now, as I sit down to do another first draft, I think, "Well, who cares is this line isn't funny? I'll find the funny line later." I just write. I don't worry about where it's going, where the scene is going to end or if it's doing to be a good scene or not. If we cut later, then so be it.

In this draft, there was a line that struck me as so subtle and yet so poignant. It's the line where Young Victor says his life was a lot about closed doors. I was wondering about the juxtaposition of that line with Young Victor. When we meet him, he's so naïve and innocent. What was your intention with that line? Was it meant to be intentional foreshadowing?

I know, as Jason, when I look back on all the things that have affected my life, there are certain things that stick out. Our memories work that way. Everyone chooses to remember certain things above others. I know a lot of times, I associate experiences with what I was wearing that day. For some reason, clothes and their texture really seem to affect me, or who I was with. Those types of things didn't really happen to Victor so I chose the door because so many scenes that are important in the play involve the door.

Once I got that idea, I chose to incorporate it throughout. He runs away from home and leaves his mother standing in the doorway. Then when he goes, he spends all the money he has to go back to the love that he thinks is waiting for him, and the door closes in his face. I just thought it made for such a strong image not only emotionally, that our memories could attach to, but would also really help theatrically. He goes from open doors to closed doors until that last scene when he opens the red box, and that's really opening a door to his heart.

Besides the door imagery, was there any other intentional symbolism?

Definitely the idea of the color red certainly became a large part of the show. It wasn't in the original version of the show or an original image of the show. Colors on stage are so interesting. I always saw this show so minimally in my head, all the sets and costumes. When you do a play like that, the color red is so dramatic on stage. Thinking of young Victor, red is the color we associate with love, and he's so bubbly and quirky that red seemed an appropriate color. His fantasy with his lover is of this safe, red house-- to them a land of no judgment, of being whoever they want to be and being together. Then, when I realized, that red became the official color of the Nazis, I thought, "Well, that could make for an interesting sense of irony."

This play is very much about opposites. Victor gets what he wants a lot of the time, but he doesn't recognize it because it doesn't come in the form that he expects it to. I think that happens to us as people. What goes around comes around, but a lot of times you can't appreciate it because you're expecting it to come in a different way than you imagine. In the beginning of the play [Victor] tells Martin that one of the most important things to him is to remember his birthday, and it never comes back up until the end of the play when Benjamin remembers to do that. He tells Benjamin in that scene, when he's ready to give up on life, that one of the most important things he could do for him would be to name his children after him-- which Benjamin doesn't do but Martin has done. It's all about coming back around, but it'll come differently than you expect it to.

What is one question about your artwork and writing than you've always wanted to be asked but have never been?

For so long when I was writing this play, in the early stages at least, a lot of people's reactions were, "Why are you writing something else about the Holocaust? Isn't there enough on the subject?" The question I want people to ask, or that I want to ask them is, "Do you still feel that way after seeing this play?" I hope [the reaction] would be, "Thank you for teaching us about something that we didn't know. Thank you for re-opening my eyes to a new aspect of the subject."

The show began its run on March 2 and continued through March 12. For more information about the show, visit http://www.redboxplay.com.

Currently a graduate student of journalism at Syracuse University, Noralil Fores studied theater throughout her childhood, and much to the surprise of everyone (who all hoped she would be a lawyer) but herself, she ended up going off to film school at Florida State University. She hopes to pursue a career in writing, without any knowledge of where it will take her, if it will even take her anywhere. Visit her blog, Waiting for Words, at http://waitingforwords.blogspot.com/.

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