Hunter Foster on Getting Naked Off-Broadway in Burning
About the Author:
While amassing an impressive list of Broadway credits—including Les Miserables, Grease, Footloose, The Producers, Urinetown, Little Shop of Horrors and Million Dollar Quartet—Hunter Foster has kept a finger on the pulse of the off-Broadway world, as well. He’s starred in off-Broadway runs of Ordinary Days, Happiness, Frankenstein and Modern Orthodox (as well as writing the book of Summer of '42), and now he’s heating up the off-Broadway boards again in Thomas Bradshaw’s boundary-pushing Burning. Below, Foster sheds some light on his unorthodox career trajectory, why he likes keeping things eclectic and just what drew him to this controversial new show.
It was a warm day in August—no it was actually hot—as I walked from my apartment to the the New Group rehearsal space on 41st Street. I had “trained in” the night before from Washington DC, where I was rehearsing a new show I had written called The Hollow, based on The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. I really wasn’t in the mood to audition for anything, but there was something about this play, Burning, that had come across my computer that I immediately thought: “Well, that’s different!” An epic, sexually provocative play with intersecting lives spanning over two decades, Burning reminded me a little of Angels in America. And after reading some really positive things about the author, Thomas Bradshaw, online, I decided it was a go! And so I told my agent I would train back to NYC and read for director Scott Elliott. Thus began my sunny trip from my apartment to the New Group.
When I finished reading for the role of Older Chris, Scott asked me point-blank if I had a problem with nudity or the subject matter. I quickly re-read the play in my mind, wondering if there was anything I missed, before I said anything. (Who knows, I could have ended up in harness or a sling being whipped by a Russian gymnast or Snooki). I remembered there were quite a few sex scenes, including one with my character, that were graphically depicted in the stage directions, but I convinced myself in that moment that I was sure that we’d be going to blackout before we got to all that sexy/nudity stuff in the actual production. Right?
Right! I gave an emphatic “yes,” and then the next day I got the call that I was cast. Perfect! I had wanted to work for Scott and the New Group ever since I saw their production of Hurlyburly a few years back. But in a few days, my euphoric “I just got cast!” haze started to melt into the cold darkness of reality as I sat in a tech rehearsal for The Hollow back in DC. I began to realize that there was a possibility that no blackout would occur before my Burning coitus was to commence. My wife, Jennifer Cody, reiterated this fact. Several times.
On the first day of rehearsal, there was definitely a tension in the room. Almost like I was Tom Cruise showing up at that crazy sex party in Eyes Wide Shut. There was definitely a murmur amongst that cast about what this rehearsal process would be like. Would we just start on day one and have a big orgy? Or would we wait till the last possible moment before we all dropped trou? One of the actors approached me outside on a break and reiterated my earlier thought: “Surely, we’ll go to blackout before the sex scenes?” I wiped my brow. Oh good, someone else was thinking this, too!
After taking two days to read through the play, we arrived on Wednesday to find furniture set up in the room: a table and chairs, a couch and...(cue the music)...a bed. I couldn’t help looking at the bed out of the corner of my eye as I sat with my morning coffee (the same look I give the prostitute who lingers on 41st Street outside our stage door—looking but not looking).
On day three, Scott asked us to do the play up on its feet.
“Don’t worry about blocking, just do what comes naturally,” he said.
“Do the play?” I thought, “We haven’t even blocked anything! Are we supposed to just....”
I don’t think anyone in the cast blinked as we took five minutes to prepare for the “run-through.”
But, after five minutes, we all got up and did the play. This remarkable group of people who hardly knew each other got over their fears and jumped into the icy blue water and swam. It was an amazing afternoon of artists throwing inhibitions aside and “going for it.” Even though no clothes were shed that day, from that moment, the tension seemed to be released (no pun intended). Sure, there would be other uncomfortable moments later on as the blocking became more specific, but there’s nothing more important than being able to trust your other actors, and that’s what happened that day. We developed a trust and a bond that made everything “okay.”
As rehearsals went along, things did indeed get easier as we became more comfortable with one another and the play itself. Scott kept reiterating the fact that all the sexuality in the play is about love, and that’s how we worked on those scenes. Making sure that love was the most important thing, not the sex.
The biggest comment we seem to get from people who see the show is “You’re all so brave” or “That takes a lot of courage to do that onstage.” That always strikes me as weird. I think of firemen running into burning buildings as “brave” and policemen protecting us from criminals as having “courage”. We learned throughout our rehearsal process that we are just characters who love one another and express that love through sexuality. What we do in on stage doesn’t seem “brave” or “courageous” to me, it just seems “honest.”
As I leave the stage door on these chilly—no, cold—nights walking home from the Acorn Theatre where Burning is playing seven nights a week and give a slight nod to the prostitute on 41st Street, all the fear and anxiety from that first day of rehearsal is all but gone. They are replaced with—after performing in this nearly three-hour sexually provocative opus—a need for a slice of pizza.
