Tony Winner Bill T. Jones on Art, Life, Death and Broadway's Fela!
Calling Bill T. Jones, creator/director/ choreographer of new Broadway musical Fela!, a Renaissance man would be an understatement. He's the recipient of the prestigious MacArthur "genius" grant, which helped fund groundbreaking work with his Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company, now in its 25th year. In his very first foray to Broadway, the rock musical Spring Awakening, his kinetic choreography took home a Tony Award. Jones unwinds at art galleries, exercises to Beethoven and recently debuted a dance/theater piece about Abraham Lincoln (“Fondly Do We Hope…Fervently Do We Pray”). And, he explains, he's continuing to push his creative limits with Fela!, which debuted off-Broadway in 2008 and explores the life of controversial Afrobeat pioneer and activist Fela Anikulapo Kuti. The tenth of 12 children born to a Florida farm worker, Jones experienced a steady career rise even as he coped with the loss of his partner Zane, who died of AIDS in 1988. (Jones himself is HIV positive and healthy.) Broadway.com spoke with this prodigious talent about his Broadway directing debut, his celebrated career and whether Fela! is art or entertainment.
Your work is typically seen by a less commercial audience. Do you approach creating for Broadway differently?
I think I do, and the learning curve has been steep. For years, I liked to say that I was an artist, and artists are supposed to have the freedom to experiment—to not be understood. Broadway doesn't seem to be a climate that truly tolerates [that kind of art]. It is a branch of the entertainment industry, and I don't mean denigrate it by saying that. Some of my favorite artists work in entertainment. But it is different from the art world. God knows, some ideas [for Fela!] that I thought were assertive or mysterious have proved not to work. I'm being urged by producers, who say, "Oh, you know, this is a little too…" They won't say “esoteric,” they'll say, "You're not allowing the public to feel a greater connection at this moment." Or "We need a little bit more laughter here." There's a whole other set of concerns that go into working on Broadway.
Because you’ve had success in so many areas outside Broadway, is it easier to detach and say, "I don't care about reviewers, or about what people think of Fela!"?
Everything matters to me. Everything matters, and everything hurts me, and so I live in a constant blizzard of reaction. That is just who I am. It's one part of what I call my spiritual struggle right now. I'm not cynical about anything.
How have you shaped the dancing in this show, which is different from what Broadway audiences are used to?
In much of my work, there are pictures—a picture happening parallel to what is being said. That carries through to Fela! I believe the choreography is one aspect that tells the story completely. So, for example, how the queens—the women in Fela's commune—moved was important to develop using specific vocabulary. The way the hips are used, the way the legs are used and, if we're talking about how this might be different from other Broadway choreography, the infusion of what we call "traditional dance" into "show dancing." In the real Fela's shrine, there were go-go cages, but the women were not slick pole dancers, they were women who came from small villages. Those women accessed their traditional dances even in that setting. Also, throughout the whole show we have stayed true to the fact that the young men and women of this cast have been trained in African dance, modern dance, ballet, capoeira—lot of different forms—and they present all that in Fela!
Fela! now has two title stars. How did you decide to add an alternate to [off-Broadway role originator] Sahr Ngaujah?
You know, I once thought there was going to be four Felas total: one who was an actor, one who was an expert in singing Afrobeat, one who was a dancer, and the fourth the Fela we see in the many hours of interviews the man gave, which people know because of YouTube. The "Fela on the Couch," we call it. Then we thought we would have two: an older Fela who would interrogate the younger. So, initially, we were looking for two types of Felas—one that could project the allure and charisma of an African rock star, and one who was a bit more seasoned and philosophical.
What did Sahr bring to the role?
Sahr did young Fela so well. He had a wonderful energy, and enough of that African-ness about him. His father's from Sierra Leone, and was the disc jockey of choice in Atlanta for his spinning of African music. Fela is known for sitting and doing interviews in his blue Speedos, and during Sahr's audition, I said, "Would you mind taking off your trousers and do it in your underwear?" When he disrobed, Sahr really was wearing Speedos underneath. He was so comfortable walking around in nothing but a pair of Speedos and projecting that character. Sahr is much more wholesome, of course, than the real man. Fela was not cuddly and didn't have that quick smile Sahr has. So one of our struggles has been bringing that hardness to someone as open as Sahr.
How does that differ from Kevin Mambo, the new addition?
Kevin has brought a gravity and maturity to it. He is slightly older and is an actor with more experience. He looks more like Fela, but he does not have the background in movement that Sahr does, so that's something we're constantly working with. Sahr, in fact, helped us build the character, when there were only a few things on the page. Kevin's coming six years into the process, which is hard and exhilarating.
Switching gears, you've constantly been cited as one of the most influential choreographers of your generation. Awards aside, what career milestones are you personally most proud of?
Well you know, in the world I came from, "career" was a bad word. So you're already speaking a language that is relatively alien to the person I was when I started. I guess the first night that I did a solo on the stage of the Delacorte Theatre as a young nobody and was noticed despite the remarkable performers around—I'm proud of that person, who made something out of nothing. The work I did with Arnie Zane, who was my companion for 17 years, is very important to me. We did ground-breaking work as a duet team. Arnie was five foot four and Jewish Italian, I am who I am, and I can say safely that the world has never seen any duet like ours! We were simulating some of the most experimental ideas about partnering and structure, bringing a lot of talking on to stage, rolling about and so on. Those were important duets, and I think they basically defined something about the era. A work like [Jones' famed piece] "Uncle Tom's Cabin" speaks for itself. If you read the history books, you cannot deny that work is very important. "The Secret Passages," one of our first works done with music, was also very, very important. The Village Voice said it was the first modern dance influenced by MTV, which we took to be a great compliment.
Does the fact that you’ve accomplished so much professionally help you deal with the threat of living with HIV?
Well, first, my dear, nobody gets out of here alive, and remembering that is helpful. I've honestly not let HIV rule my life in a way that requires me to examine [my legacy] that way. If you're constantly assuming that one has a death sentence, I think you're sort of cheating yourself in that way. There are other things that are problematic for me, but I don't spend time worrying about [mortality]. I live as if I'm going to be around for another hundred years, knowing that today could be my last day as well.
Where does something like Spring Awakening, which brought you to Broadway, fit into your body of work?
Spring Awakening is a whole other thing from what I've done with my company. It's me visiting another world and actually deciding to spend time there. I have my house in Rockland County, and I have a little tiny shack in New Mexico, and I go back and forth between the two. When I'm in New Mexico, I don't think about Rockland County, and when I'm in Rockland County, I don't think about New Mexico. That's how I think of my work with Broadway versus my other outlets.
How do you prepare yourself for Broadway, an area you visit but do not live in permanently?
Like everything else in my life, I'm sort of self-taught. Trial and error. I did go to university to be an actor. I thought I was going to go to Broadway, then I got side-tracked by modern dance. It's trying to use the instincts I have about the stage, period. I know I've just spoken about keeping art and entertainment separate, but when I need to be inspired, I immerse myself in things that inspire me.
Such as?
I look at art books a lot. I love film. I appreciate music. When I exercise by the Hudson River, I'm listening to the Art Soup Quartet of Beethoven. It's not all about art— I love Neil Young and Billie Holiday—but Beethoven's structures and forms actually calm me down and help me exercise. Overall, I've taught myself by listening to myself. That's one of the things I say to audiences of the modern dance world. Though I don't know if I'd say it to a theater audience.
What would you say to theater audiences?
I'd say watch yourself watch. That way you learn about what is most important in art.
Is Fela! art, to you?
Well, this is musical theater, so I'm supposed to be helping you pass the time, take you on a journey and return you home. Art does not promise to do that to you, or at least not where I come from. But I do think Fela! is art. It does not promise to take you on a journey and bring you home—it just promises to help you travel.
See Bill T. Jones’ production of Fela! at the Eugene O’Neill Theatre.
