John Simon

As mean as he can be and he can definitely be mean, it's impossible to dismiss the musings of John Simon, New York Magazine's theater critic since 1968. Sure, he's been branded a homophobe and a racist recently by Caroline, or Change scribe Tony Kushner. And yes, he has compared the looks of leading ladies to those of farm animals. Yet re-reading Simon's reviews of the 2003-04 Broadway season, one can't help but admire his fierce intelligence, sharp humor and ability to call it like he sees it--with no apologies. At the height of Tony Awards speculation, we asked Simon to look back on the highs and lows of the Broadway season as well as some of the hottest races.

Did you wake up early a few Mondays back to hear the Tony nominations live?
No. The later, the better.

Were there any surprises on the list for you when you did find out?
No. Unfortunately, I've lost my ability to be surprised, at least by the Tony nominators. It was pretty much predictable—in some cases, a tiny bit better and in some cases, a little bit worse, but pretty much as expected.

I recently went back and read all your reviews from the season...
My goodness. That must have taken a while.

There were definitely more negative reviews than positive.
That's probably true of any season, but it may be more so this time around.

Do you get depressed by it all? To have one bad theatergoing experience after the next…
Sort of. The thing is that after a while you develop a strong stomach and a thick hide. And with a strong stomach and a thick hide, you can face almost anything. That doesn't mean you're happy to face it, but you do it.

Is it fair to say that Henry IV was a highlight for you?
It certainly was one of them, and there weren't that many.

You called it the best American Shakespeare production you've ever seen.
Yes, I think so. I still think so. Until something better comes along, which is not going to happen very soon, as witness by the King Lear we had immediately afterwards.

Henry IV is facing off with A Raisin in the Sun for the play revival Tony. You're not much of a fan of the actual script for Raisin…
For what it is, it's okay. At least it doesn't pretend to be a work of art. I think it was meant to be a memory play for Lorraine Hansberry, she being one of the characters in it. And it's something she had to get off her chest and she made it sort of commercial. That's not the worst thing to be. The trouble I have is with plays that try to be commercial but can't even make do that. Those are really bad. But to want to be commercial and succeed is a perfectly acceptable, even honorable, thing. How many plays are going to be works of immortal art? Very few.

Compared to your critical colleagues, you were pretty nice to Sean Combs.
I mean, he's obviously a… How should I say? A clever operator. And clever operators can do surprising things in many directions and, you know, by and large he's all right. He can't do the big emotional moments, but the director has sort of screened him from them by having him look out the window or stick his head between his knees. That way, he doesn't make a complete fool of himself and the rest of the time; he's at least OK.

There were a lot of new plays this year, in quantity at least. It's interesting that one of the plays that received one of its better reviews from you was the recently-departed Match.
I may have been a little overgenerous there. You know, after you have to knock a lot of things, you begin to look desperately for something to praise and if there is no really wonderful thing around, you end up overpraising something that's only slightly better. That might have been the case there. I don't think Stephen Belber is any kind of major playwright, but it's a good vehicle for one actor and a not-too-bad one for two others.

I thought it was a nice little crowd pleaser, actually.
A good vehicle is a good vehicle. That's better than a T-model Ford these days and certainly better than…an Edsel, for example.

We have two Pulitzer Prize-winning scripts competing for Best Play. You weren't much of a fan of either.
Which ones were they? I Am My Own Wife?

And Anna in the Tropics, which you wrote was honored with an “affirmative-action Pulitzer."
Is that what I said? Well, that is a truly bad play. I think Nilo Cruz is one of the big no-talents of our time, but he makes it, I guess, on affirmative action. And on idiot Pulitzer judges who give a prize to something they have not seen produced.

What about the notion of awarding a script without seeing it produced? Is it true that the Pulitzer judges often don't see the shows on their feet?
I think it doesn't usually happen but in this case it did, and shouldn't have. But you know, fools will be fools and I forget who the judges were, but they were obviously easily fooled. Now, a really bad play doesn't read any better than it plays, but somehow when you read it, you can get up and have a drink or watch television for a while… you can mitigate the badness of it by breaking it into easily digestible morsels. And at the end, you say, “Well, it's okay and what else is there? Has there been anything else? Mmm, not really. Let's give it the Pulitzer!” I've always thought the Pulitzer was the worst prize in existence and I've said it to one of the Pulitzers himself in St. Louis. Let's face it--all prizes, starting with the Nobel, are questionable. But some are worse than questionable. Some are appalling. I think this one always has been and always will be.

I Am My Own Wife is emerging as the frontrunner…
I Am My Own Wife has the virtue of being based on a very interesting piece of writing by Charlotte von Mahlsdorf herself, or himself, or whatever. And that piece of writing, which I did read, is pretty damn good. But it contains a number of things that aren't in the play. I guess it would have been too long. So instead, we have a lot of [playwright] Doug Wright putting himself into the play and that's bad because I think Doug Wright is second only to Nilo Cruz in being a no-talent. He is a little better than Cruz, but then again, who isn't? I think that sticking himself in the way of the story immediately makes the level of the show go down. I can see why he did it--he did manage to find out certain things that aren't in the book-—but it should have been done in a less self-serving and self-promoting sort of way.

You must be happy that The Retreat from Moscow was remembered with a nomination.
It's remembered, but I don't think it's going to get much, do you? Remembered is all very well, but awarded is something else.

It's obviously what you will be voting for in the category.
Yes, I suppose so.

After reading your reviews, I can't imagine which of the four Best Musical nominees you'll give your vote to.
Now, let's review that. What are my choices here?

Your choices are Avenue Q, Caroline, or Change, The Boy from Oz and Wicked.
I'll do what I did at the Drama Critics Circle and abstain. There's nothing I want to vote for on that roster.

Do you believe that there are years when we simply shouldn't award Tonys in certain categories?
Oh, very much so. I mean, all awards should always hold open the option of not giving an award. But unfortunately there is a perception that an award must be given and if what's competing is, let's say, horse shit, goat shit, pig shit and dog shit, well, one of those shits has to win no matter what. I think that's a very poor idea.

There are other musicals that didn't get nominated--Bombay Dreams, Never Gonna Dance, Taboo… Did you feel any of them deserved to be in the race instead?
No, no, no! They should not only not be in the race, they should not have been, period!

In your Avenue Q review, you talked about the hysterical audience reactions around you.
Nowadays there's a standing ovation on any night for anything. I think that's really bad. It has made the standing ovation worthless. It has made real excellence undistinguishable from God knows what else and it sort of debases the currency of an ovation and it's depressing. It has come to the point where, many times, I would rather review the audience than the show because the show is pretty terrible and can be done in one paragraph. But the benightedness of audiences? That requires a great deal of contemplation and evaluation. The trouble is you can't. I mean, even in the most liberal publication, I don't think they'd tolerate you saying that the audience is hopelessly deluded or self-deluded.

You've been known to reprimand audience members around you.
Yes, certainly, but I wish I could somehow prevent them from giving standing ovations. And also from hooting. That hooting thing is awful! People don't know the difference between an extreme sports event and a piece of theater, which potentially can be a work of art. The difference between an extremely violent wrestling match and a play on Broadway has become eroded. The audiences go in the same spirit in both directions.

What about Wicked? Despite mixed reviews, audiences have embraced it and it's now poised to pick up a bunch of awards.
It's partly that there's not much else. That's a show that doesn't have a single decent musical number. Some of them are helped a lot by the delivery of the quite-good performers, but quite-good performers doing their best is not the same thing as the material being worth a damn. It's lousy music and poor lyrics. But because there's no longer much taste, and no competition from better things and people are spending a hundred dollars and must have a good time so they'll talk themselves into it. For any number of reasons, this thing is considered to be a praiseworthy and prizeworthy musical, which it by no means is.

You were kind to Boy George, who made his Broadway songwriter debut with Taboo.
But I wouldn't say it was any better than other shows. It was just so weird that, to some very small degree, the weirdness was interesting. But it was only interesting for maybe ten or fifteen minutes and after that, who cares? Again, there were some good performances. I do think Raúl Esparza is a hell of a good actor, and no matter what he does he does it interestingly. So he was interesting, even in that. And Boy George wasn't bad either, for what he was doing. But it was a pretty shabby thing. Shabby may not be the right word. Paltry, I guess, is the word for it.

Speaking of praised performers, you failed to fall under the spell of Hugh Jackman, unlike the rest of New York City, it seems.
He's a nice-looking guy and in Oklahoma!, where he had good material, he was okay or better. But this adulation and absolute hero worship of him is ridiculous. I mean, there must be a dozen other actors who are just as good but who somehow haven't had the good fortune of being at the right place at the right time.

I was really pleased to see that you were a fan of the revival of Fiddler on the Roof.
I think it's perfectly all right. I mean, I don't think it's a definitive production, but what the hell? It's perfectly respectable.

You preferred it over director David Leveaux's Nine, which took home last year's Tony for Best Revival of a Musical.
Very much so. In Nine, there were some very delicate things that he can't handle. Nine is painted in pastel colors, which he doesn't understand, whereas Fiddler is in primary colors. What he did was tone them down a bit, for which people went after him. But I think it was okay to tone them down a bit. Obviously, Zero Mostel was not a toner-downer, but that doesn't mean to say that Alfred Molina isn't quite lovely, too, in an entirely different way. And Randy Graff, likewise.

Who was unfortunately snubbed by the Tony nominators.
Completely. I mean, she is one of our treasures. This may have not been the best part for her, and it may have not given her a chance to do the things she can do best, but there is something about her. There are these actors who really cannot do wrong--even in the wrong part, even in the wrong play, even on a day when the audience behaves like perfect ignoramuses. These actors rise above it, and she's a great riser-above, and so is Molina.

So Molina can count on a vote from you over Mr. Jackman?
Absolutely. But I don't make up my mind until I actually have to. I can guess at what I may say, but then it may turn out otherwise.

On to the leading musical actresses… I know that Donna Murphy is someone you're a big fan of.
Oh yes. Yes.

And she's at her best in Wonderful Town…
I think so, yes.

She could win her third Tony Award this year. And we also have Audra McDonald, possibly winning her fourth. The notion of these ladies winning so many awards—are they on the same level as the greats of our theatrical past?
Well…

I know that you actually said that McDonald was miscast in Henry IV earlier in the season.
I thought she was disastrous in Henry IV. That's the only strike against the production, the only one. She was really quite wrong and quite bad. But nobody dared say so, I believe. But in the right part, as in Raisin in the Sun, she's terrific, nothing wrong with her. And she can sing, which was of no use to her in Henry IV.

Forget about the Tony races for a minute. What were the great performances of the season, in your mind?
The one that sticks in my mind, although I can never remember her name, is the girl who plays the daughter in Caroline, or Change.

Anika Noni Rose.
That's a hard name to remember! I guess a Rose by any other name can be Anika Noni! Anyway, she's terrific, and that's not a very good show. Even someone like Tonya Pinkins is not particularly outstanding in it because the material isn't outstanding. There's only so much you can do. But this Anika Noni Rose, she really does something that's quite amazing. And then there's Viola Davis in Intimate Apparel. That's another great performance.

Do you have an opinion on the Assassins debate of whether its a new musical or a revival. Tony rules sort of change with the wind.
I think it's wrong. I think all musicals should be judged in the same category. I wouldn't even distinguish between revivals and new work because each revival is a new work in a sense. Obviously this Fiddler on the Roof was a very different Fiddler and even something like Jumpers, which I think was bad when I first saw it and is bad now, it's still bad in a slightly different way. So I don't see any great reason for distinguishing except that they want to give out as many prizes as possible. I'm surprised they haven't invented even more cockamamie categories.

I've always wanted to ask you about your comments about performers' looks. You don't seem to censor yourself.
I won't censor myself but other people sometimes censor me.

Oh really?
It has happened occasionally, not often.

There were a couple of choice comments in your reviews this season. Do you feel its fair game to “review” someone's physical attributes?
Of course it's fair game because the performer is the sum total of all the things he or she is. He's not just a voice, he's not just the way he walks, he's not the way he reads his lines… Although he is all of that, he is also how he looks or how she looks. Then you say, well it's not someone's fault if he or she looks in some way that isn't very attractive or doesn't please your particular taste. But you can do a lot of things. You can use make-up perhaps. You can use your demeanor to somehow soften what's wrong with you. But above all, you could have charm. But there may be things that cannot be mitigated, especially if you look totally wrong for the part.

Has an angry actor ever written to you about one of your comments?
I'm not sure. The only obvious thing is the famous Sylvia Miles case when she threw a plate of steak tartare at me. That was angry. But whether it was an actor is another question. There was one other incident, somewhat similar but less meaty. Letters, I don't know. There have been some anonymous letters occasionally, which may have been from actors.

If you really like a show and you sort of want to support it, do you ever intentionally write in a way to give the production a quote for their ads?
No, I think you may have noticed that even when I like things, I'm quoted far, far less often than others. This is partly because they resent me and they don't want to quote me. If they can get anybody else, they prefer that. And I don't blame them. If you dispute a critic's views, why should you quote him? I write for the sake of the writing and not for the sake of the quoting.

As one of New York's top critics, do you feel powerful in today's climate, where shows are marketed to death?
I think the moment Liz Smith becomes the most important drama critic, that's the end of critics being powerful.

What about Internet message boards? Have you ventured into that world at all?
No. I'm not too fond of the computer in general, and I'm not particularly good at it and I'm not particularly involved in it. Of course, I have to use it to some extent, but I use it as little as possible.

What do you think people would be surprised to learn about you? You obviously have a very interesting reputation…
The thing that's happened over and over again is that people have met me and found me not biting off their noses, and then they think what a nice person I am in real life as opposed to what I am on the page. I always say, why should I be the way I write a review if I'm talking to you at a cocktail party? Those are two different things. What they can't understand is that someone who is not a--I don't know what--a Godzilla monster can actually exist and still write tough reviews. And of course, it's possible. You can be a reasonably normal human being and not like every damn show that comes down the pike.

Are you looking forward to anything next season?
I never know what's happening next season. I am involved enough with the present so that I try not to worry about the future and the past. The past can take care of itself, and the future will be taken care of when it becomes the present.

How does John Simon refuel during the summer?
I don't know. I do music criticism for The New Leader, which is a very different kind of operation. I do classical CDs, mostly--I love classical music, and every time I have to give a tough review in the theater I can write a piece about some wonderful CDs so that is always restorative. [My wife and I] don't travel very much, for various reasons. I would enjoy traveling more, but somehow that doesn't seem to work out. And well, my wife has an apartment in Bronxville. And to me, a congenital urbanite, suburbia is the country. So there's that. Summer isn't all that different from the rest of the year except that there are fewer plays. On the other hand, there still are plays because that old business of the summer being a dead season is no longer true.

That's true. You have the The Frogs coming this summer and Arthur Miller's After the Fall…
Yes, all kinds of things manage to come in the summer that didn't used to.

How long do you see yourself writing reviews?
As long as they're willing to publish me, I'm willing to write them. Obviously, if I go blind or deaf or senile or bed-bound, I'll stop. But as long as I have my brains—and they seem to be, as yet, unimpaired—and as long as I have my physical health and my interest, I will go on. If they stop publishing me then I'll stop. But I can't say this will happen at such and such a time. I still feel very much in the saddle, and while I'm in the saddle, I'll ride.