Broadway Favorite Daniel Breaker Is Grabbing the Mic as Hermes in Hadestown

Daniel Breaker looks every inch a suave messenger of the gods when he steps on stage to start the action in Hadestown. The long-running musical is in good hands with Breaker singing about the road to hell in Hermes’ perfectly tailored silver suit.

It’s been a busy season for the Tony-nominated star, who played another narrator, Jester, in the Broadway transfer of Once Upon a Mattress before joining Hadestown. In the two decades since he graduated from Juilliard, Breaker has become a Broadway MVP, creating lead roles in Passing Strange and Shrek the Musical and enjoying long runs in The Book of Mormon and Hamilton (as Aaron Burr). Relaxed and enthusiastic about his new gig, he praised Anaïs Mitchell’s “timeless” Hadestown score and marveled at the vocal response of audience members unfamiliar with the story of Orpheus and Eurydice.

It's great fun to see you in Hadestown. How does it feel to be Broadway’s star relief pitcher?

I’ve grown to love this habit of stepping in on shows. I love originating roles, of course, but I also love the idea of just breezing in, adding a new dynamic to a show that’s already running. Often, the cast and creative team are receptive to what I bring, which is flattering—not feeling that I have to do the exact thing someone has done before. I also think new perspectives can help with longevity, if the show itself is good. It’s the same reason we do Othello over and over, because it can accommodate different acting styles.

Your performance is nothing like that of André De Shields, but both approaches work.

That speaks to the quality of the show. I had no preconceived ideas about it, because the first time I saw it was a month before I stepped in. Also, there is no one way to play a messenger god. [laughs] He can be somewhat elusive. Moving across these worlds of heaven and hell, there’s a lot of freedom in that. And that silky, beautiful costume is such a dream.

It's interesting that you were also a quasi-narrator as Jester in Once Upon a Mattress.

Yes, somebody was telling me, “This is your niche,” because Aaron Burr was like that as well—a narrator who has a direct relationship with the audience but also an intimate relationship with the characters on stage. It’s like, “Get Daniel Breaker! He can speak to the audience and also to his acting partner!” [laughs]

The Broadway shows you’ve done have featured many types of music. What are you enjoying about Hadestown?

Oh, I absolutely love Anaïs Mitchell’s compositions and these incredible orchestrations. They’re unique because, similar to [composer] Stew in Passing Strange, these musicians didn’t come up in what we think of as musical theater. There’s a different approach to how they tell stories on a stage. It is remarkable that this seven-piece band is creating such a magical tapestry of color and musicality. I’m never gonna get bored on this thing!

You spend a good part of the show observing the action. What’s that like?

I enjoy watching these performers tackle what is a really demanding show for everybody. The ensemble are the living, breathing organism of the show. They have to act their asses off and sing their butts off at the same time. That is rare. There are some shows that are like “sing sing sing sing” but don’t really call for blood-and-guts acting, whereas this show demands both things in equal portions.

You’ve also become king of long runs, including three years in both The Book of Mormon and Hamilton.

Well, I’ve got kids to feed! [laughs] Again, when the show is good, there’s a lot to explore and discover, and when there is turnover [in the cast], the DNA of the piece changes, which is interesting. There’s a part of me that’s a bit of a slow burn. I like to develop something, and every performance is different, depending on how the audience is and where we are. It’s live! And this show demands that you be present. There are some shows where you can phone it in a little bit, but in this one, at the top of the show, [Hermes] acknowledges every person on stage and says, “All right?” and they respond; then [he] acknowledges the audience with “All right?” and they respond, which sets up a fun ride.

It was nice to see that the student groups at the Wednesday matinee were really into the show.

I hear that spring break is going to be wild. It’s kid-accessible because Greek gods are folded into the curriculum, but I also think there’s something about Anaïs’ lyrics and composition that feels timeless. She wrote about building a wall [almost 20] years ago, and that’s pretty damn present right now. I get to look at the audience during the show, and it’s fun to see how rapt people are, and to feel the gasps that happen at the end. In my very first show, when the big moment came, this woman in back gave a blood-curdling scream, and from the other side of the theater, you heard this guy go “Dude!” It’s a thrill to do a show where you know that even the most cynical contrarian is going to give in to something happening on stage.

Let’s look back for a moment at Passing Strange, in which you gave a towering coming-of-age performance. We chatted with De’Adre Aziza recently, who said the cast is still close.

A lot of people say, “We’re like family” about the show they’re doing. I don’t really adhere to that, but I will say Passing Strange is a family. If somebody in that group is in need, we will come together. There was something about the timing of it, the physical and mental and emotional demands of it. That show was very close to me: I grew up in Germany [in a military family]; I felt lot of things being a Black kid in Europe, being an outcast when I came back to the States, not really having an identity and not being Black enough to certain people. It was hard to relive all that on stage, but I’m so grateful I met the challenge. And thank goodness Spike Lee preserved it, because we were running at 30 percent capacity. The avant garde loved the show, but people weren’t coming. Spike shot it documentary-style, capturing the intimacy of it and how alive the show was. I think that helped catapult and sustain our careers, except for Colman [Domingo]. Poor Colman’s not doing too well in the world. [laughs]

On a lighter note, what was it like to play Sara Bareilles’ husband in the streaming comedy Girls5Eva?

So much fun. First of all, it was a bunch of grown-ups, and we had great writers who could do buoyant comedy. I sang one time on it, and people were like, “Why isn’t Daniel singing?” Sara is such a phenomenal person. She’s deeply talented, she’s kind, she’s fun, she’s fast, she’s genuine. It’s a bummer that Netflix didn’t pick the show up for another season.

Remind us how you and your wife, director Kate Whoriskey, met.

We met in 2004 on a Lynn Nottage play called Fabulation at Playwrights Horizons, and we hit it off immediately—two weirdo artists who came together. Right after that, Kate and Lynn went to Uganda to do research for Ruined.

How have you supported each other’s theater careers?

It can be a challenge. After Passing Strange closed and our first kid was born—16 years ago!—Kate was going into rehearsals for Ruined after three years of research and work. A week before they started, I booked Shrek the Musical [as Donkey]. So, you just have to figure it out. You build a community that can help, you pivot, you reinvent, you reset, but constant work is required. That’s an artist’s life in general.

Here's hoping you will enjoy another long run in Hadestown.

I already feel very comfortable. I’ve redone my dressing room—I’ve got my wallpaper up, and I’ve got my espresso machine in there. I cook a lot, so I always bring food to the cast. Fried chicken is on the horizon. Food and art: Those are the things I love.