Archive for the ‘Interviews & Profiles’ Category


KAREN ALLEN (actress, May 2017):

BOB BALABAN (actor-director, June 2015):

ANNE BASS (Lantern Theater executive producer, March 2017):

VALERIE BERTINELLI (actress, March 2017):

LORRAINE BRACCO (actress, Nov. 2009):

DIAHANN CARROLL (actress, Oct. 2008):

LYNDA CARTER (actress, Oct. 2017):

PATTY DUKE (actress, Sept. 2009):

SUSIE ESSMAN (actress, Dec. 2008):

JULES FEIFFER (author-cartoonist, April 2017):

CARRIE FISHER (actress, Oct. 2009):

TONY GEORGAN (Merrick Theater founder, Feb. 2016):

SEAN GRENNAN (playwright, Nov. 2015):

BRUCE GROSSMAN (Cultural Arts Playhouse producer, March 2016):

CHRISTOPHER HACKERT (playwright, May 2017):

CHERYL HINES (actress, Sept. 2017):

ALLISON JANNEY (actress, April 2017):

BILLIE JEAN KING (athlete, Jan. 2017):

TARMO KIRSIMAE (director, Feb. 2016):

CHRIS LEMMON (actor-singer, Oct. 2015):

OLIVIA NEWTON-JOHN (actress-singer, July 2017):

KELLI O’HARA (actress, Dec. 2017):

PAULA POUNDSTONE (comedian, Nov. 2017):

JEFFREY SANZEL (Theater Three artistic director, Sept. 2016):

ALENA SMITH (playwright, June 2015):

JONATHAN TOLINS (playwright, May 2016):


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PING PONG, POP TARTS, AND PINEAPPLES: Comedian Paula Poundstone on the Rewards of Moving Forward

by David Lefkowitz

(this article was first published in November 2017)

“I have struggled to overcome loneliness, depression, obsessive compulsive disorder, alcohol, terrible loss, and both public and private failure, but the feelings of hopelessness and helplessness from not being able to put a film up on Facebook may be insurmountable.”

That quote, from Paula Poundstone’s recently published second book, The Totally Unscientific Study of the Search for Human Happiness, pretty much sums up the veteran comedian’s take on the universe. If life has handed her lemons—particularly ones she grew on her own tree—she now takes a sip, acknowledges the sourness, and then adds just enough sugar for a laugh.

To be sure, few people were laughing at Poundstone in 2001, when she was arrested for being a danger to her three adopted and two foster children. Public acknowledgement of the humorist’s alcohol addiction was one hurdle—a failing not exactly unheard of for celebrities—and she did admit to driving under the influence while her kids were in the car. But the remaining three charges were explosive: performing lewd acts on a child under the age of 14. Those allegations were dropped as part of a deal wherein Poundstone pleaded no contest to one felony (for child abuse) and one misdemeanor (for child injury), while agreeing to do five years probation.

Those years were completed a decade ago, after which followed a long stretch of rebuilding her name, finding concert venues willing to take her back, offering a public mea culpa in her 2006 autobiography, There is Nothing In This Book That I Meant To Say; and, most of all, finding a platform that would prove to a wide audience just how off-the-cuff funny she could still be. Actually, Poundstone was serving as a panelist on NPR’s Wait Wait…Don’t Tell Me! even before her self-destruction, but recent years have seen the program leap in popularity—in no small part owing to quips delivered by the 57-year-old comedian in her husky, ever-perplexed voice.

In town Dec. 1 for a gig at The Paramount Theater in Huntington, the Alabama-born author owns her past, jokes about her present, and promotes her book, which, as its title suggests, charts numerous attempts to immerse herself in projects that will bring her quantifiable measures of happiness (which she calls “heps”). Whether it be binging on watching movies, studying martial arts, or simply trying to de-hoard her mess of a house, the experiments tend to succeed and fail in equal measure—surely as sensible a metaphor for life as any.

Asked in our phone interview which of her endeavors proved the most fulfilling overall, Poundstone admitted it was “the stuff we were always told”: to exercise and help others. “One day I was walking down the alley carrying trashbags with 30 pounds of cat waste and kitty litter in them, and it dawned on me that I felt really good,” the comedian chuckled. “It had to be the exercising, because I’ve carried litter down the street before, and it never made me feel particularly good. Plus, I’d had a couple of really depressing, sad things happen during that experiment, so had I not been receiving the ongoing `heps’ of happiness, those things would have towed me under like a big wave.” As for the good-samaritan gambit, Poundstone noted, “I volunteer at a nursing home a couple of mornings a week. Again, it’s what we’ve been told: to make yourself feel better, make somebody else feel better.”

Though the Alabama-born comedian still enjoys taking swing classes she started during her “Get Up and Dance” phase, other health regimens have fallen a bit by the wayside. “I had been taking private taekwondo classes four times a week, and I was in pretty good shape then. But now I’m only home so many days a week, and I have all these goddamn cats to take care of. Also, it’s that weird part of the human condition. The things that make me feel best I won’t do on my own. I know vigorous exercise helped me, but when I’m by myself, I get to the point where I think, `Oh, I’m gonna vomit,’ and I stop. Whereas with a trainer, he’d just say, `Keep going.’ I know me pretty well by now, and I would not say that to myself.

“Even volunteering,” Poundstone continues. “I schedule it, I do it, but I don’t leap out of bed and say, `Ooh! Volunteering today!’”

Healthy eating, too, is a goal more appreciated than easily achieved. “My middle daughter is a vegan,” says the humorist, “and she’s influenced me—even though every vegan meal is not necessarily a low-caloric meal or even terribly healthy. But I do swing more towards vegetables and healthy foods than I ever did before in my life. For the longest time, one of the hallmarks of my act was talking about Pop Tarts. Audience members would bring them to me. The Chicago Tribune did a story about Pop Tarts history, and their timeline included a picture of me. But a couple of years ago, when I was doing the experiments, I thought, `My Pop Tart years are over.’”

“It doesn’t help,” Poundstone continued, “that I have a very sedentary life. Half of my week is flying, plus I get up at crazy hours to be driven to the airport. As soon as I’m in the hotel, I order food and fall asleep, so I come home pretty porky. I did buy a desk treadmill, but I forget to turn it on. When I do, I sometimes put on Breaking Bad because I need something compelling to bribe myself to stay on that stupid thing.”

Reminded that it takes discipline to finish a book, Poundstone countered, “This book took me seven years to write; the one before it took nine. In fact, when I went into Human Happiness, I thought, `this couldn’t possibly take as long as the last one.’ I really set a low bar for speed. But it’s the reality of being a single, working mom. As a standup, I have a notebook and a thousand little pieces of paper all over my desk. After all these years, I think I have a certain rhythm of having ideas and then putting them out there. It’s more like breathing than scheduling. I tell myself that if I sat in a room saying, `Now I’m going to think of ideas,’ I wouldn’t be able to. Maybe I would. But ehhh, this is the way I’ve done it.”

When asked if computers have made it easier to organize material and promote her work  now than when she started more than three decades ago, Poundstone railed against the evils of our wired-up age. “So many of our kids are going down the horrible rabbit hole of gaming and texting,” she said. “It’s to the degree that they can’t look one another in the eye because they don’t know how to communicate.” Granting that a friend’s son, who suffered from severe cerebral palsy, was helped by digital technology, Poundstone also admitted that one of her own children suffered from electronic addiction: “When my son was little, we couldn’t get help for him or even admit that such a thing existed—which was mind boggling to me because it so clearly fell into the category of addiction. Now there’s a lot of literature on it. No real solution, but at least identifying the problem and warning new parents: no screens in front of little kids! None, zero. I’ve seen strollers that have a hook for the iPhone so that it hangs down in front of the baby’s face. Maybe 75 percent of the women I see walk by with kids in strollers are either on the device themselves, or, worst-case scenario, the kids are on one, too. Kids can be amused by everything in the world around them; they don’t need a screen to look at! It’s a really weird world we live in.”

No stranger to addiction herself, Poundstone has been sober for a decade and a half, but you won’t find her attending any AA meetings. “Oh God no,” she laughed. “I was court-ordered to meetings for five years, but that ended ten years ago.” The comedian noted that her atheism conflicts with the modus operandi of Alcoholics Anonymous, which is very “God-based.” She added that when she was in rehab and kept complaining about AA’s religious nature, “they made a faux effort to find me a different group. My counselor showed me a flier at one point, and I said, `Great!’ So I was driven to this address on this flyer, and no one was there. Maybe it was so secretive, you had to know the special knock.”

Poundstone certainly gives AA credit for being accessible and for grouping her with other addicts who offered encouragement and helpful ideas, but she worries that the government’s reliance on AA as the go-to organization for sobriety has slowed down research into more scientific treatments of addictions. “In fact,” she added, “AA would not call what I do `sobriety.’ They’d say I’m `white knuckling’ because they consider sobriety only going to their meetings and doing their steps.

“I remember several years ago,” she continued, “when Robin Williams relapsed after not drinking for 20 years. He came out of rehab, and my manager saw him on some daytime talk show. The host asked him, `Why would you drink?’ And he said, `I thought I could.’ I don’t know why my manager told me that, but I often think to myself, `I am an admirer of Robin’s. And if he couldn’t do it, then who the fuck am I?’ He was the canary in the cage for me.”

Because children were involved in Poundstone’s darkest actions, she realizes there are corporate gigs she will never get and people who will never forgive her. “There’s nothing I can do about that,” she stated. “I get up every day and try my best to make the world a better place. I will live the rest of my life with some strong percentage of regret and guilt for the mistakes I’ve made. I deserve that. But that doesn’t move anything forward. I can’t go back over my life with a giant eraser.

“The devil drink—or any kind of addiction,” she explained, “shuts down the judgment part of your brain. The frontal lobe is where planning, decision making, understanding consequences, and self-control are. So I made decisions that were the polar opposite of the kind of person that I hope to be. The idea that I endangered my children—I writhe in hell over that. But that doesn’t help them. So I do my best to sally forth, get my act together, and be the best parent I can be. And if there are people who don’t forgive me, okay, they don’t forgive me. We’re probably not gonna be in one another’s orbits, anyway. They’re not gonna come to my ping-pong parties.”

Poundstone isn’t being facetious. She’s been hosting table-tennis get-togethers since her twenties—a social outlet for a woman who doesn’t date and has openly declared herself asexual. Having visited people in the nursing home who are “totally alone,” the comedian doesn’t completely dismiss the idea of finding a partner much later in life, but for now, “the audience is my best friend. I tell my daughter that someday I may experiment and go out with someone. I’m not a monk. I haven’t made an oath. It’s just that on the list of things to do, it’s pretty far down there. I mean, to go in my bedroom and see someone there with whom I have to have an activity? It’s just upsetting to me. Plus, I’m tired all the time, and to my knowledge, I don’t have a sex drive. So for now, I like to play ping pong.”

And to appear on Wait Wait…Don’t Tell Me!. The comical Q&A program allows Poundstone to mock current events—almost always from a left-wing perspective—though she avoids political hard sell in her stand-up. “I do talk about politics in my act,” she said, “but I’m not an analyst, and I’m not a historian or an expert. I’m open to the possibility that I’m sometimes wrong. But politics is part of my life, and my act is largely autobiographical. People can get mad because they disagree with me, but I respond that we all have far more in common than we have differences. It’s just that it’s my turn with the microphone.”

In fact, Poundstone’s favorite Wait Wait moment to date was both political and universal. “One time we were in Berkeley,” she recalled, “and there was a sign-language interpreter onstage. [Writer and satirist] Adam Felber was on the program with me, and we were watching the signer. Peter Sagal [the host] asked a question that included a quote from Ronald Reagan about passing the budget. And he said something to the effect of doing that was like trying to crap a pineapple. Well, when he said that, both Adam and I looked over at the signer because we were both fascinated by how they were gonna sign this. We roared with laughter over the hand signals.

“Since this was radio,” continued Poundstone, “there was no way of communicating the situation to the home audience—only to the audience in the theater. So then, Adam and I started purposely saying things that would be compromising to sign—most of them having to do with crapping. I believe we culminated in Adam saying that Reagan had said, `It was as hard as crapping a live, wiggling ferret.’ We only did it so we could watch this woman sign it. Of course, all of that was cut from the final show. Still, if you contact Wait Wait, I’ll bet one of those audio nerds could still find it for ya—high-minded NPR people that we are.”



What’s currently on your bookshelf?

I’m reading The Nazi Officer’s Wife [by Edith Hahn Beer]. I’ve started reading the New York Times, but I read so goddamn slowly that I just take it with me in my carry-on bag. It’s a big stack, even after I’ve stripped it of everything but Section A.

Do you have a favorite meal?

I have peanut butter and jelly on raisin bread every day that I’m home. But one time we went to this restaurant on Christmas, and I had the most spectacular butternut squash ravioli. But they were really skimpy with the ravioli pillows—only four on the plate! Still, I dream of it every day. They hooked me. It’s like heroin: they give you a taste…

What about your music?
I listen to lots of swing-type music. When I first started volunteering at the nursing home, they had two cds: one disco, the other mandolin. It seemed like an easy fix, so I started buying big bands and stuff they grew up with. It’s so much fun! Now they have easily 100 cds. My favorite may be the best of Louis Prima. And I’ve moved a little forward timewise: The Carpenters and some Van Morrison. Whether he’s part of your era or not, he’s just so great.

Who were your biggest influences in comedy?

I loved Laugh In. I wanted to be Lily Tomlin and Mary Tyler Moore and Carol Burnett—and I missed it all by a country mile! But I love them all still. In high school, I got turned on to Bob and Ray. My gosh, they were funny.

So if you hadn’t made it in comedy yourself, you’d be a…?

I have no idea. I used to bus tables in a restaurant, and I was damn good at it. At IHOP, I waited tables…I wasn’t good at that. I have OCD—as does everyone, actually; I was just diagnosed—but that makes me a fantastic table busser. I have a gift!

What’s your favorite place to vacation?

I go to the same spot every year: Manchester, Massachusetts to visit the family I used to live with. We go to Singing Beach and get Captain Dusty’s Ice Cream. Last year, my son was in a program in Virginia, and I took him to Lake Anna in the fall. The water temperature was perfect! It’s my dream to go back there two years from now.

Well, that should be an easy dream to make come true.

(laughs) You’d be amazed how many of my dreams don’t!



David Lefkowitz is an adjunct professor of English at the University of Northern Colorado. He also co-publishes Performing Arts Insider (TotalTheater.com) and hosts Dave’s Gone By (davesgoneby.com) on UNC Radio. His comedy, Blind Date, was recently staged in Chennai, India.

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IT’S A WONDER-FUL LIFE: Lynda Carter on Music, Money, and That Role

by David Lefkowitz

(Note: this article was first published in October 2017)

When Gal Gadot was born in spring 1985, the American television series Wonder Woman had already been off the air for six years. By the time the Israeli actress hit the big screen in this summer’s Wonder Woman movie, the original TV program had already settled into media history as a nostalgic wedge of 1970s cheese: silly, campy, and can’t-look-away-colorful. Another reason eyes were glued to the small screen was its gorgeous star, Lynda Carter, five foot nine niches of glamour packed into a costume that accentuated her…well, everything.

That Carter, at 66, has effortlessly held onto her iconic glamour is of more interest to fans and new WW converts than to the lady herself, who was taught early on that good looks could be helpful but had better not be the only commodity you have to offer. In our mid-summer phone conversation, Carter, at work on her fourth studio album, talked freely about her music, her early years, her attitudes and addictions, and the responsibility of being the woman behind the bare shoulders and bracelets.

LONG ISLAND WOMAN: Your last two albums mixed American standards with more contemporary songs by people like James Taylor and The Eagles. Are you planning something similar with the next one?
LINDA CARTER: I guess some are standards, though it’s hard to call them that because they come from such a wide variety of music: country, jazz, old rock and roll, Motown. I have a hard time trying to box in what I do. For example, we’re working on everything from a Chris Isaak cover of “Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing” to a country song I wrote called “After All These Years.” Also, “You’ve Changed,” the Billie Holiday song; “Take Me to the River,” ZZ Ward’s “Put the Gun Down,” “Lonely Boy” by The Black Keys, a couple of Everly Brothers songs, Bruce Springsteen’s “I’m on Fire,” and a completely re-thought version of “Stop in the Name of Love.”

LIW: How do you go about selecting the songs?
LC: They’re largely what I have chosen over the previous years to go in my live show. Throughout the year, I’m listening to the radio or Spotify, or my husband and son are always playing music. Or one day “Stop in the Name of Love” just came into my head, and I looked at the lyrics online, and I thought, “This is a great, great lyric.” But the way the original was approached, you don’t even listen to the lyrics. So I slowed it way down. You probably won’t even know what the song is until you hear the chorus.

LIW: So you have to connect to the songs in order to put them over?
LC: Everything I do is pretty much a story. A song has to mean something to me—even if it just makes me laugh. I’ll usually have the guitar player do a quick reference demo just to write down the chord charts and how I want to approach it—be it a completely new arrangement or the song itself is obscure. I’m not usually picking a Top 10 record going down the Grammy list. It’s some indie band or something I really want to sing because I love it. For example, I really pared down Eric Clapton’s “If I Could Change the World.” It’s a love song but also a message song about how I really feel about the present condition of the world. If we could just change the world, just change it.

LIW: Well, your world changed after you won the Miss World USA title. Your family had been struggling beforehand.
LC: My mom and dad divorced when I was ten or eleven, and we were scraping by. I worked in one of my uncle’s restaurants and wasn’t really good at that. But I earned enough money to buy school clothes and help my mom. I also worked weekends at a little office doing mimeographing for extra money. At 14, the summer before I went into high school, I joined a band, and that was great, because on a weekend, you could make $75—that was a fortune in 1965. At first, I couldn’t even drive myself to the venues. But at 15, if you had a learner’s permit in Arizona, you could drive, so I did.

When I look at it now, it’s absolutely ridiculous that I was that independent. But I just told my mom what I was doing, and she’d say, “Okay, that’s great.” My brother was off putting himself through college, and my sister was doing what she was doing, so my mom had her hands full. But I always got straight A’s, I never got in any trouble, I didn’t do drugs, and I didn’t date boys. Mom knew she could trust me and that I was a good girl.

LIW: Even though you were touring in a band?
LC: Eventually, I quit the road because I’d spent two and a half years with several different bands, and I knew at a young age I wasn’t going anywhere with that. The guys were men and a lot older than me. You’re living in these crappy motels, and you’re a road band, and you’re a girl singer going from one place to another, and no one’s gonna discover you. It was a dead end, and I knew that. So just quit and moved back to Arizona.

LIW: With no job prospects?
LC: (laughs) Thank God I never had to earn a real living at a real day job. I walked into a modeling agency in Scottsdale Arizona to see if I could get any modeling work, and they were putting on the Phoenix portion of the Miss Arizona pageant. My mom and my sister said, “You gotta do it! You’ll be too old if you don’t do it now.” And I did. I won Miss Phoenix, Miss Arizona, and Miss World USA in about a three-week period of time. It was really quick.

LIW: But not the game-changer you’d hoped it would be?
LC: There was no talent in this contest. It was a bogus kind of thing that wasn’t about anything, and not something I ever aspired to. You feel like a piece of meat as they’re parading you around with a crown and a banner. You’ve got a lot of people around you, and a lot of attention, but you’re opening grocery stores and cutting little ribbons in little towns. There’s no substance. They make you have a chaperone, and you’re not making any money. Whatever they’re charging these people, they’re ripping you off. If they’re making $100, they’re giving you $30 and keeping the rest of it. I mean, yes, it was a little exciting, but I wanted to move to L.A. and study acting and move on with my career.

LIW: At which point you got the role of a lifetime. Once Wonder Woman took off, did you have a level of creative control over Diana Prince?
Yes and no. I think you are restricted by what the words are on a paper. However, I fought tooth and nail for my own interpretation of how she needed to be. Thank goodness the director of the pilot episode was really in sync with me about Diana’s level of discovery in the new world. How she was very naïve and had a great sense of wonder and a fish-out-of-water feeling. Also, her goodness and sweetness. She wasn’t a jaded person; she was a feminist. It was important to me that her loving nature, as well as her fierceness defending what she believed in, was conveyed. I think I was able to do that.

LIW: Well, scheduling problems kept you from having a role in the new Wonder Woman movie. But you did see it, and . . . ?
LC: The director, Patty Jenkins, and I talked very early on, and I think she really understood who that character is. She gave these characters a sense of humor, depth, and inner life. She took the cartoon out of the character, you know? The truth is that every character off of a page is a cartoon. If I sometimes get blowback that Wonder Woman isn’t real, well, no character is real! Most of the politicians you see aren’t real. People you see in magazines—they’re not real; they’re all doctored up. Models aren’t that perfect; it’s an impossible standard to live up to. When you see people on the red carpet, you’re not seeing them in real life. It’s like Cary Grant’s famous line: “I’d like to be Cary Grant, too.”

LIW: But that’s the paradox. Beautiful people get opportunities plain people don’t, but then they complain that they’re judged mainly on their looks. Did you always find your reflection in the mirror a blessing and a curse?
LC: Hey, I appreciated it. Nobody ever feels sorry for you because you’re pretty (laughs). But we’ve all met people who take themselves too seriously because they’re rich or pretty. They’re boring, dull people who are not fun to be around. What helped me was having a very close relationship with my mother. I went through some teenage awkward years, and then I started singing and had a lot of people telling me that I was very pretty. But in my family, I have to say, I was unimpressed by that. My mother was very, very beautiful, and my father was very, very handsome. My brother’s very handsome, and my sister’s very pretty. But the emphasis in my family was about ethics, accomplishment, beauty being skin deep, exercise, education, good grades. So beauty was never something I put a lot of stock or effort into it. My thing was trying to be a creative, smart person, and to be about something.

LIW: You did have your burdens, though. Which led to an alcohol problem.
LC: I didn’t even drink until my mid-20s. My mother and father didn’t drink, but it is a genetic pre-disposition that existed on my mother’s side. So even though my mother did not have it, I got the gene. In the 80s, when I started using alcohol to avoid dealing with a bad marriage, and to escape and avoid dealing with my emotions, is when I got myself in trouble. You find it in the military and a lot of places, but alcohol is so insidious. It’s like opioid addiction running amok in the heartland now, while they’re cutting medical insurance for addiction. For years, Big Pharma made a ton of money off it, but no one’s talking about that part . . .

Anyway, as far as my own alcoholism, it took awhile. I would drink, and then I wouldn’t, and then I would. It was a slow process. But when I finally decided I really needed help, I went to rehab. Now I’m coming up on 20 years sober. I haven’t been to meetings in a long while, but I am very involved in recovery. I’m on the board of Ashley Treatment, which is a recovery center in Maryland, and it’s a very important aspect of my life. I am extremely careful about being mindful.

LIW: Speaking of mindfulness, I imagine most of our readers want to hear that you must spend twelve hours a day in the gym with trainers to keep looking the way you do.
LC: No, I just try to do a little something every day: pushups, walking, biking on the river. I try to be active watch what I eat. Just quantity, really. If I’m gaining a little—like, I think I’m probably a little bit over now—I’ll start to keep an eye on what I’m eating and go down a bit, and not let it get out of hand. Some people can just eat whatever they want…I’m not one of `em. I keep on keepin’ on, but mainly for health reasons.

LIW: Which also leads to the inevitable whispered question, “How much work do you think she’s had done?”
LC: It’s really funny. I’ll do Botox or Restylane, occasionally, if I’m gonna be doing a big photo shoot or something. I try to get rid of that middle frown line because it makes me look mad. But I don’t want to have a frozen face. I don’t want big lips. I am what I am. I’m not saying I’d never have plastic surgery, but I don’t think I will. I just don’t see myself having any cutting on my face because everyone that I’ve seen cut, they look entirely different. I’m kinda terrified. I know people who can afford the best surgeons in the entire world and still…I dunnoooooo. (laughs) Besides, my mom didn’t have any wrinkles when she died, and she was almost 90!

LIW: So much of who you are does seem to keep circling back to your mom.
LC: My mother was a remarkable woman. Even for the music I do . . . She used to play these juke-joint records. She had a collection of these old, scratchy 78s all about pain and suffering (laughs). “You done me wrong.” Sassy blues records from the South with these amazing singers. She also loved country music and rhumbas and things like Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Harry Belafonte, Judy Garland, and torch singers. So that is what’s inside my bones and what I lean toward in my musical taste.

LIW: You mentioned before we started that some of the information about you on the web is wrong. Such as?
LC: There’s no “Córdova” in my name. I don’t know how that ever got started. It’s my mother’s maiden name, but it’s not on my birth certificate. And I did not go to Arizona State University. I got a scholarship that I turned down to go on the road. I did change “Lynda” from an “i” to a “y” before going into high school. There were a lot of people named Linda with an “i,” so I wanted to change it.

LIW: What about nearly having a featured role in Apocalypse Now?
LC: That’s true. I was in the jungle for three weeks, and we got typhooned out. They shut down for a couple of months, and by the time they were ready, I was doing Wonder Woman, so they had to replace me. But I was there with Charlie Sheen, Laurence Fishburne, and Frances Ford Coppola, and I’ve got a great picture at home of all of us to prove it!

LIW: Considering the film’s iconic status, was that a big career regret?
LC: No, it was an amazing experience being there with all of them. It didn’t work out, but I don’t regret it. You just move on.



Favorite Songs of Your Own?
The song I wrote for my son, “Jamie’s Song (You’ll Change Just a Little),” and one I wrote for my husband, “After All These Years.”

Favorite Vacation Spot?
Maybe on a boat in the ocean, but really it’s anywhere my family is.

Favorite Website?
The Library of Congress: loc.gov. You can look up anything. It even has Thomas Jefferson’s first draft of the Declaration of Independence.

Favorite Episode of Wonder Woman?
The pilot. It was that new experience, that wondrous, amazing feeling that dreams come true.

What Have You Been Reading?
One of my favorite books was The Human Genome [by John Quackenbush]. Also, Jon Krakauer’s book about the Mormons, Under the Banner of Heaven. I like anything David McCullough writes.

What Have You Been Watching?
Bloodline with Sissy Spacek, Earth 2, and, of course, everybody loves House of Cards. Mostly, I’m wild about any and all documentaries. I love Vice, from Bill Maher’s production company. The stuff they cover is just amazingly great. And Nanking, about the Japanese invasion of China. It’s shocking and unbelievable.

Besides Wonder Woman, Which Other Roles Have Made You Most Proud?
I don’t really watch myself, but it would have to be my TV specials.


David Lefkowitz is an adjunct professor of English at the University of Northern Colorado. He also co-publishes Performing Arts Insider (TotalTheater.com) and hosts Dave’s Gone By (davesgoneby.com) on UNC Radio. His comedy, Blind Date, was recently staged in Chennai, India.


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Psyched: Cheryl Hines on Acting, Reacting, and the Kennedy Blessing

by David Lefkowitz

(This article was first published in Sept. 2017)

So you’re a talented, attractive young girl growing up in Florida with ambitions to move to California and be a professional actress. We can guess how that scenario plays out 98 percent of the time: part-time jobs, near misses, small parts, and giving up when it’s time to start a family or settle on a fallback career. Then there’s the one percent who make a decent living thanks to union benefits, commercials and voice overs, and the occasional widely seen role. That leaves a last one percent for the few who hit the big time of red carpets, fortune, and fame.

Sliver off a fraction of that last percent, and you have Cheryl Hines, who didn’t start racking up IMDB credits until her late twenties yet now is famous, not only for playing Cheryl David on Curb Your Enthusiasm, but for marrying into American royalty. In 2014, the tanned and toned 52-year-old, who knew she wanted to be a professional actress even before she spent her high school years submerged in theater, married Robert F. Kennedy, son of the late Senator Bobby Kennedy and nephew of America’s 35th president, JFK.

Not bad for a woman whose first credit was Swamp Thing (not the movie, the TV series), and whose big break emerged from watching faux husband Larry David create impossible situations and then shovel himself in deeper. When we spoke by phone in early summer, Hines had recently wrapped the ninth season of Curb, as well as the movie sequel, A Bad Moms Christmas (due out Nov. 3). Not surprising for someone who is now ensconced in a political family, Hines answered most questions in a slow, measured cadence as if weighing every phrase. And yet, her laughter punctuated the responses, and the overall impression was of a woman who appreciates her good fortune while understanding that staying lucky takes just as much effort as struggling.

LI WOMAN: Did performing in high school theater bring you to the next level in terms of your acting ambitions?

CHERYL HINES: When I played a student in The Children’s Hour, I learned so much from that experience. Even though I was still in high school, I was working with some of the Florida State University students, and they were so good. Everybody was very professional, and the director was great. He made us show up in character—so I don’t even think he knew my name! But he taught us that you have to show up and know your lines, and come in character, and know how your character looks and walks and talks and reacts to different things, and think about your character when you’re not onstage. It was a great experience for me.


And yet, almost conversely to all that preparation, you ended up as a member of the Groundlings improvisation and sketch troupe.

Sure, but the fundamental idea of improv is listening to your scene partner. Because there’s no script, all you can do is listen and respond. That idea carries through in any type of acting because it’s really about you, as a character, comprehending what the other person just said and reacting to it. I think a lot of acting classes stress the text and writing of a scene, which is understandable and important. As an actor, you really have to multi-task: your lines, your blocking, where you’re gonna stand or sit, how you’re gonna use props. But you shouldn’t lose the spontaneity of a moment that could be created. If you’re thinking too much about your next line, are you really listening to what that other person is saying?


That approach must have been helpful when you auditioned for Curb. I assume you didn’t get “sides.”

CH: Right, there was no script; it was all improvisation. I had never met Larry or Jeff Garlin or any of the gang before that moment. So that was an experience, and I was auditioning for an HBO project, which was exciting. But at the time, it was only a one-hour special, so I didn’t think it would change my life. I thought it would be great to get that job, but it didn’t feel like testing for a network TV show. So I felt relaxed about it. I just started improvising with Larry, and we really clicked.


Did he give you any cues about your character?

I was told that Cheryl has heard it all from him and that she doesn’t take any of his shit! That was all I got. It was just one audition, and my agent called me later that day and told me I got the job. Which never happens in this business!


Speaking of jobs, your pre-success labors included waitressing and being a phone operator, but also an enviable personal-assistant gig.

Yes, for Rob Reiner and his wife, Michele. And I had a really good time doing that. It was still stressful, don’t get me wrong (laughs). But they were very supportive of my career. At the time, I was still going through the Groundlings school, and [the Reiners] would come to all of my shows. So I had a really great relationship with them. Even though I was doing seemingly mindless errands—like picking up dry cleaning—they understood that I was working to become an actress. And that meant a lot to me.


Rob Reiner has produced and directed his share of movies and TV shows. How did you stop yourself from saying, “Um, can you throw me a bone, please?”

(laughs) The temptation is great. But I also knew when I took the job that that was not going to be part of the dynamic. Everyone in Los Angeles is an actor or writer, so in order to have a job where you’re working with somebody who is already established in the business, you must understand the boundaries, or you’ll always be frustrated. With any job, if you do it with integrity, the people around you will see who you are and what your character is made of.

These days, I’m friends with Rob and Michele, and we go out to dinner. We’ve become more like peers.


And if you hadn’t made it as an actress, you might have been . . .?

A psychologist. I really am interested in people and how they think and adjust to the complications of life.


You’ve mentioned in previous interviews that a psychology course you took in high school really affected you—especially in terms of ruminating on human mortality.

Part of the course was a death-and-dying seminar. It struck me then that death is so much a normal part of our existence and our journey, but for some reason, our society doesn’t seem to be open about it. I thought that was very interesting. It sounds dramatic to say but, of course, we are all gonna die. Yet it always seems shocking when someone we know passes. I thought, at the time, maybe there’s a better way for us to approach all this—but it was never in a goth kind of way or “life is so hard and I’m a tortured soul.” It’s more that this is part of life and everyone’s journey, so why don’t we explore it?


Did that attitude help your grieving process when your father died a few years ago?

I think it did. I tried to focus on the gift that I got to experience with my father in his life and the idea that I was fortunate to have him for fifty years. This was instead of focusing on him not being here anymore. Now, it’s certainly easier to say that than to make yourself feel that way—but I do try to think of life and death that way. We are lucky to have each other, and we don’t know how long we’re gonna have them in our life, so be grateful that they were here and sad because you lose them.


Well, after that loss and the divorce from your ex, producer Paul Young, you certainly gained a family—including a husband and six stepchildren to go with your own daughter. What does it mean to be a Kennedy?

Ummm . . . being a Kennedy is . . . (laughs) It’s normal and it’s extraordinary at the same time. It’s normal in that I married a great guy who has an amazing family and, at the same time, everybody has their struggles. (long pause)


I guess you have to weigh your words carefully.

I do, I really do! When it comes to the Kennedys, sometimes it’s all larger than life. A lot of people know who they are.


Aren’t you used to recognition yourself?

It was probably easier for me to adjust to being in the spotlight than someone who had never been recognized out in public before. Still, in a normal week, I’m playing Trivial Pursuit with my family, and the answer is: my husband’s uncle. So that gets weird! Every week there is something surreal.


So despite the obvious, what made Robert F. Kennedy Jr. the man you wanted to marry?

Bobby is one of the smartest, most intelligent people I’ve ever met. He’s funny—although I don’t think his public persona shows that because he talks about serious subjects a lot. I don’t know. It’s hard to talk about why you fall in love with someone. I have a good time with him, and he inspires me to be a better person. I always joke that my biggest fear is that we’ll be traveling in a Third World country, my appendix will burst, and he will remove it—because he’s very good at survival-type skills.


So did you learn anything about real marriage from your David marriage?

That’s a good question! I think the big idea of marriage is to pick and choose your battles. So, yes, I probably have learned to be more tolerant in my real marriage from being married to Larry David on screen. (giggles)


Do you foresee any of the kids going into politics?

I wouldn’t rule it out. It’s difficult to know now how they’re all going to shape into adults and what their aspirations may be. But they’re all very intelligent, and, certainly, politics is a part of their lifestyle. Almost all of our kids have volunteered in humanitarian ways, and they’re aware of civil justice and the fight for it. I think most kids aren’t really exposed to that sort of thing when they’re 13, 15, 18, so that gives ours a different awareness of the inner workings of policies maybe. Probably. But will they be passionate about it as adults? I don’t know.


Do you see your celebrity and family status as a platform to espouse your own political views? That’s a pretty formidable soapbox.

I’m definitely more aware of how my political views might be interpreted because I, personally, am in the public eye. Most of the time, though, I really don’t want to mix my political feelings with my acting career. They’re separate for me.


Okay, but say something you believed in was being threatened under the current administration. For example, Planned Parenthood?

I am pro-Planned Parenthood. And I would feel inspired to fight just as a citizen, as a mom, as a person who gets to vote in the United States. Yes, it’s an advantage if more people pay attention because I have a different platform. But at the same time, I understand that everyone has the choice to listen to the person they want to listen to and make their own decision.


Speaking of politics, this morning, President Trump inflamed women—and everyone, really—with his mockery of MSNBC personality Mika Brzezinski for having a facelift. For actresses, plastic surgery can be an especially fraught topic. As someone who works out three times a week and is also active in yoga and outdoor activities, where do you stand on nipping and tucking?

I’m not here to judge what someone does to make herself feel or look better. I know people who say, “Don’t do it! I would never do it!” And those people are 25! Meanwhile, the Kardashians have changed the world of plastic surgery to where they’ve made it almost chic. That’s strange, and I don’t know how much I like that trend. But I don’t care. I’m not gonna worry about it. People should do whatever they want.


No question, Curb is your best-known credit, alongside the sweet movie Waitress, and three seasons of the network sitcom Suburgatory. Is there a project you’re proud of that hasn’t gotten similar attention but you wish viewers would seek out?

There’s a quirky film called Bart Got a Room. William H. Macy plays my ex-husband in it, and it’s such an interesting, funny movie. We look ridiculous in it but we’re playing versions of real people.


Speaking of interesting and funny, you also got to work with the late Robin Williams on the 2006 comedy, RV. Any memories?

Robin was a very intelligent, creative, magnetic soul. And he really appreciated people. When he’d walk down the street and somebody would come up to him, he would act like that was the first time anybody had asked him for his autograph. He was kind to them because he knew that it was important to them at that moment. That’s who Robin was. He appreciated people and was just a very generous soul.



Recent books you’ve read?

This circles back to death and dying again, but Where the Dead Pause, and the Japanese Say Goodbye: A Journey (Marie Mutsuki Mockett). Also, I just started re-reading Nick Hornby’s How to be Good. It’s one of my favorite books.

What’s on your iPod?

I listen to a lot of hip-hop—just to work out to, and my daughter likes it. I like Beyoncé—who doesn’t? Also, Chance the Rapper because it’s my daughter’s type of music, and we do a lot together.

Favorite vacation spot?

I really liked the Turks and Caicos when I went there. The water was so beautiful, warm, and clear. I’d like to go back there.

Favorite actor?

Mary Tyler Moore really influenced me. She was always so funny and authentic. That really inspired me to want to be like her.

TV shows you watch for fun?
Ray Donovan, Veep, and, well, I don’t like to talk about it openly, but I really love Dancing with the Stars. My daughter laughs at me because I cry at every episode because they’re trying so hard.

Would you ever be on it?

That’s a good question. It certainly sounds fun to me. But my acting career might get in the way.

Favorite Meal?

On the perfect night, I would have a California roll and a spicy edamame. Not exciting, but it’s the truth. I’m on the verge of being a vegetarian, but I still like bacon. So if I’m having a salad, I like bacon bits. I don’t know what that says about me, my dedication, or my personality, but I’m sure it’s not good!



David Lefkowitz is an adjunct professor of English at the University of Northern Colorado. He also co-publishes Performing Arts Insider (TotalTheater.com) and hosts Dave’s Gone By (davesgoneby.com) on UNC Radio. To read bunches of his plays, articles, and songs, visit https://davelefkowitzwriting.wordpress.com/


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SOMETIMES A GRAIN OF SAND: Olivia Newton-John Reflects on Glory and Grief

by David Lefkowitz

(Note: this article was first published in July 2017)

“I’m waking up this morning
Grateful for the gift of one more day
The light of hope is dawning
It fills my heart and lifts my fears away.
Live on, live on.”
– “Live On” (Olivia Newton John)

When songstress Olivia Newton-John comes to mind, we tend not to think of words like grief or pain or endurance. After all, the English-born, Aussie-raised, American-minted beauty came on the music scene nearly fifty years ago with the looks of a Cover Girl model, the persona of the ultimate girl next door, and a voice any girl group would covet. From 1971, when her take on Bob Dylan’s “If not for You” zoomed up the pop and adult contemporary charts, through the early 1980s, when music critic Robert Christgau wrote, “Any heterosexual man who can deny `Physical,’ with its detonating blonde bombshell… needs his monkey-gland shot,” Newton-John led the kind of stars-aligned life of which mere mortals can only dream.

But the actress-singer is 68 now, and a lot can happen when you live long past your thirties. She married actor Matt Lattanzi, but they divorced after only nine years. Their daughter, Chloe, now 31, struggled with anorexia, drug-and-alcohol abuse, and a seeming addiction to plastic surgery. And though Newton-John has been happily married to businessman John Easterling since 2008, her previous partner, John McDermott, disappeared after a fishing trip and has been presumed dead—though reports that he faked his own demise and has been living in Mexico continue to surface. Oh, and let’s not forget The Big C. Diagnosed with breast cancer in 1992, Newton-John underwent chemotherapy and a partial mastectomy. After a decade and a half of being cancer-free, John learned in May that the disease had reappeared. She canceled a planned tour and instead will undergo radiation and “natural wellness therapies.” The news is especially sad because four years ago, her sister Rona succumbed to an aggressive brain tumor.

That last tragedy hit the singer especially hard. “I will miss her forever,” Newton-John then wrote on her Facebook page, “my beautiful, smart, talented, funny, brave sister.” At the time, Olivia was working on a Christmas album, which helped lift her spirits, but she eventually felt the need to reach deeper. The result is her latest musical project, “Liv On” (sic), a collaboration between her, veteran country tunesmith Beth Nielsen Chapman, and Canadian songwriter Amy Sky. All three turned to music as a way of understanding and coping with loss.

In a phone conversation with Newton-John (that occurred before her recent diagnosis), the new album often came to the fore, but she was also willing to share her thoughts about the many events of her life—good and bad—that brought her to this point. We began, of course, with music.

Olivia Newton-John: I’ve always found that music has been my way of healing. So I was writing a song for Rona and about her. I called Amy Sky to ask if she’d help me finish it. We talked about her just losing her mother the year before, and we realized that there really wasn’t music specifically for people going through loss and grief. So I said, “How would you feel about doing an album of these songs?” We talked about it and decided to invite Beth Nielsen Chapman, too. She’s a longtime friend of mine and fellow cancer “thriver.” Also, she was doing quite a lot of music at that time for people who were grieving. (I didn’t even know that; it just happened to be wonderful timing.) She wanted to join us on the record because she had lost her husband, 14 years before, to cancer, and wrote a beautiful, beautiful song called, “Sand and Water” that’s become kind of a classic. Elton John has sung it many times.

“All alone, I heal this heart of sorrow
All alone, I raise this child
Flesh and bone, he’s just
Bursting towards tomorrow
And his laughter fills my world, and wears your smile.”
– “Sand and Water” (Beth Nielsen Chapman)

So we all got together on three occasions and wrote new songs in my kitchen. And we talked about the different stages of grief. Grief is not something discussed in our society very much, but everybody goes through it at some point. We lose a relative or a friend or a pet (which has always been devastating to me). Or we move or we lose a friend or our circumstances change. There’s lots of areas of grief in life. We thought, “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to write some songs that address those things?” So that’s how the album was born, and we’ve been touring it.

Was it cathartic to sing these songs in public and then hear audience members offer their personal experiences with loss?
Yes, of course. That was our intention making it: to bring some people relief and let them know they’re not alone. That song, “Live On,” for instance. I wrote it for my sister and as an inspirational song for my cancer-wellness and research center in Melbourne, Australia. When we did the tour, no one had heard these songs, so it was incredible to hear the wonderful reactions. We also did a Q&A. We didn’t know how that would go, but people raised their hands and wanted to tell us about what they’d gone through. They wanted to share. That’s really healing: when people can share their feelings and know they’re not alone.

Your sister’s death was tragic but a fairly common life experience. Was the grieving process different when you didn’t actually know what happened to John McDermott?
I don’t really like to discuss that because it’s very personal to me. But grief never goes away. We wrote a song on our album called “Stone in My Pocket.” It says that with grief—sometimes you carry it around like a boulder, sometimes it feels like a rock, sometimes it feels like a pebble, and sometimes a grain of sand. But grief is always there, and you learn to deal with it and live with it. All the different stages, and all the different people that you’ve lost are always part of that. Not to be too specific, but I’ve had a lot of grief in my life—as most people have.

Well, on the positive side, between new music, touring, and your philanthropic endeavors, you seem incredibly busy and healthy for someone nearing 70. Do you see that pace continuing for another 10, 20 years?

(laughs heartily) I like your optimism! But I’m very grateful to be here, and I think age is how you feel and not the number you put on it. And music is eternal, so as long as I feel like I wanna sing, and people still show up, I’ll do it. I have a wonderful marriage with a lovely home and animals and things, so I’d like to spend more time at home. But I really enjoy singing, and I get pleasure out of it and give pleasure to the audiences. So I’ll do it as long as it feels right, and when it doesn’t, I won’t.

And having beaten cancer 25 years ago, you must be pretty proactive about your health and diet?
My husband is an expert on homeopathics, so I take a lot of Amazonian herbs. John also has a dear friend who runs a clinic where I do DNA tests twice a year, just checking out my body. I also do a blood test about once a year—things like that. I try to keep my immune system strong, so that even with all the hard work that I do, I stay very healthy.

Does that include avoiding red meat and other “bad” foods?
I’m not totally vegetarian; I go in and out of that. My daughter is a vegan, but my body sometimes craves meat. I’ll go through phases where I don’t eat any, and then my body tells me I need it, so I will eat some. I eat very healthily, but I also enjoy myself. I believe that you have to have fun, and have a cookie or dark chocolate (which is healthy anyway!). Luckily, my indulgences are usually things that are fairly healthy. My mother was German, and she would feed us potatoes with the skins on and steamed vegetables. When I was a young girl, I’d say, “Oh, mom. This is so boring!” But now I’m very grateful to her for teaching me to eat well.

What about exercise?
I do what I can, though I’m often traveling. Plus my show is actually quite “physical”—not to be punny there. I do like to take walks, hike, play with my animals. I have a gym at home, so I’ll do that when I can. I have my own little workout that I put together, and I keep pretty fit. Still, I’d like to get into a yoga class, and I even used to do the hot yoga years ago, but I’m never home long enough to get into a routine. So I do yoga stretches that are very important for the spine as you get older.

It sounds like your health consciousness has been a long-term thing, even though you achieved success in the 1970s-80s, an era of excesses that were the opposite of healthy.
I stayed totally away from that. I went to Studio 54 a few times, and I used to go to clubs, but drugs? I never saw them. I think you find things only if you’re interested in them, and I wasn’t interested. I really wasn’t aware of it.

So maintaining a healthy lifestyle is one suggestion you might give an up-and-comer entering the music business. What are some others?
Finding your own style and not copying anybody else. I was lucky enough to have a wonderful producer and songwriter, John Farrar, who did most of my production. Also, finding great songs is so important. I was very lucky in my career to have John and Steve Kipner and Peter Allen. All Australians writing the majority of my hit songs!

“You never chase your dreams, they find you
Love, I know you; if you need love, it finds you, too
Don’t stop believin’, you’ll get by
Bad days, bad days will hurry by.”
– “Don’t Stop Believin’” (John Farrar)

It’s not as if you faced no setbacks early on. Just before you hit it big, you were part of a Monkees-like group that made one weird movie, Toomorrow, and then disbanded. Since you were only 22 then, was it a devastating blow, or did you simply move onward and upward without much regret?
Well, the group was me and three boys—an Englishman and two Americans—all of us put together by Don Kirshner, who put the Monkees together, and Harry Saltzman, who did the James Bond movies. It sounded great, and we made a movie, and of course it’s disappointing when you have things that don’t work, but that’s the only way you grow. But I was never gonna give up. Of course not! I was still singing and performing. All failures are disappointing for everybody, but you just keep going. One of the songs I do in my show is, “Not Gonna Give in to It.” You learn from a mistake, and you realize later that it was a big lesson.

Do you have any thoughts on the current pop music scene? Any artists who impress you?
I love Adele, Rihanna, Pink. I love a lot of people! (laughs) I was watching the [Grammy salute to the] Bee Gees special the other night, and everybody up there was so gifted. There have always been wonderful artists every era that I’ve witnessed. And now it gets more and more interesting and diverse as different kinds of music integrate together.

You’ve released nearly a dozen albums since 1990, though casual fans might still know only your work from the two prior decades. Are there more recent songs you wish were as widely known as the early hits?
Gosh. I’ve recorded so many songs, but I probably would say songs from the “Liv On” record because it’s the most current thing I’m doing. And the songs “Live On” and “Stone in My Pocket” would be the ones I’d want people to hear now because they’re where I’m at in my music at the moment.

“In every heart of those we touch
In every dream that means so much
Yes, I believe that all of us live on.”
– “Live On” (Olivia Newton-John)



Let Me Be There
We did that record in England, I think. It was producer Bruce Welch’s idea to put that bass voice on there, which made it very original and clever. It’s a great song, and it started my career in country music—when I wasn’t even aware it was a separate category!

I Honestly Love You
A magnificent, beautiful love song that I’m lucky to still be singing.

Summer Nights
I just think of fun. Fun days filming with the girls. It was great.

That’s a song I put out and then got panicked because I thought I’d gone too far. But then it was too late—it went to number one so quickly! I tried to counteract it because I thought maybe it was a little too raunchy for me. I said to my manager then, “We need to do a video and try and make it more about exercise!” And that took it to even greater heights, so it kind of makes me laugh now.

Have You Never Been Mellow
That’s a John Farrar song. Classic, beautiful lyric, beautiful melody. I love singing that and still do it in my show.

Live On
A positive reinforcement of life.


David Lefkowitz is an adjunct professor of English at the University of Northern Colorado. He also co-publishes Performing Arts Insider (TotalTheater.com) and hosts Dave’s Gone By (davesgoneby.com) on UNC Radio. His short comedy, Blind Date, recently played at the Alliance Francaise in Chennai, India.


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In Bloom: Christopher Hackert Gets his Theatrical Wish

by david lefkowitz

(This article was published by Long Island Pulse in May 2017: http://lipulse.com/2017/05/24/christopher-hackert-moonlighting/)


Someone who gives floral arrangements names like, “Out of the Woods,” “Bursting with Glee!”, and “High Drama Roses” has an obvious theatrical streak, but for Christopher Hackert, true creativity begins after the doors to East Meadow Florist are locked for the night.  That’s when he ceases to be Patch magazine’s “Best Florist in East Meadow” and morphs into a dramatist with a growing list of local credits.

He’s a longstanding Playwright in Residence for the South Shore Theater Experience, and this month, and his latest comedy, The Texas Palace Taco Incident, arrives there in June. “It’s very out there,” laughed artistic director Deborah Cascio Plezia, who will stage the show. “It’s a sci-fi farce that starts at home and literally ends up at the taco palace.”

Hackert’s last comedy, Walter’s Wish, played at SSTE as well as at Northport’s Bare Bones Theater Company. That piece told of a husband and father who wants nothing more, on his 39th birthday, than to make his family disappear.  Then a genie appears.

For Hackert, Walter’s Wish was a departure because much of it is told in monologues.  When writing it, the scribe was unsure if it was even funny, but after seeing audience reaction to the world premiere staged at South Shore, Hackert took heart: “apparently, it’s pretty hilarious.”  In fact, the only revision he’s done to the play was one suggested by its SSTE director: moving the first scene of the second act to the end of the first. “It was something I’d thought about when I wrote it,” Hackert said. “So when I saw it, I said, `Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.’”

“The play happened very serendipitously,” he continued, “as do most of my plays. I start by writing the name of a character and a line of dialogue.  I answer with another name and another line.  Then I keep writing to see if it goes anywhere.  This one went somewhere very unexpected.  Not that it’s a `serious’ or `meaningful’ play because I’m the least serious, most shallow person you might meet!”

He’s also one of the most committed. As SSTE’s playwright in residence, he writes one full-length show plus a one-act each year. Somehow, all this activity doesn’t conflict with Hackert’s sensible day job, which he has held for 35 years. “My older brother worked for the original family of East Meadow Florist. Then I got a job here and eventually bought it from the son when he was ready to give it up.” Hackert has owned the business for two decades and often spends seven days a week at the shop. Nevertheless, over the past two years, for South Shore, he played the lead in 2015’s Anybody for Murder and penned the original comedies Ready or Not and `Til My Dying Day; while for Bare Bones, he starred in The Pavilion and Scapino, and wrote the one-act Don’t Forget to Write.

Asked how he finds the time for theater when he dwells amongst the thorns, Hackert, who has enjoyed writing since he was a child and readily admits his shows can be “a little silly or sitcom-y,” replied, “Even though I have to be here physically to answer the phones and take care of customers—since I own the place, when there’s downtime, I do whatever I want. Still, I tend to write better when I write under pressure and last-minute. So when I have false starts, I can pick them up and see if they mean anything or I’m always willing to throw them away and start anew.”

Walter’s Wish ran March 2-12, 2017 at Bare Bones Theater, 57 Main Street, Northport. (800) 838-3006, barebonestheater.com.


David Lefkowitz hosts Dave’s Gone By (davesgoneby.com) on UNC Radio, co-publishes Performing Arts Insider, and founded TotalTheater.com. His award-winning solo comedy, The Miracle of Long Johns (miracleoflongjohns.com), has played engagements in Colorado and New York City.



This piece was written for Long Island Pulse early in 2017 and scheduled to run that March, when Walter’s Wish was opening. The magazine delayed the story’s publication, however, so by the time it ran, it had to be significantly revised to put Walter in the past and Texas Tacos on the front burner. The version posted here is expanded from what was actually published in Pulse’s May 2017 issue.


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Karen Allen and the World of Yes


by David Lefkowitz


(Note: This article was first published in Long Island Woman, May 2017)


Before you even ask: yes, she still has those eyes and the smile.  They’re often on view in the new film by Alexander Janko, A Year by the Sea, in which Karen Allen plays a woman of a certain age on a journey of self re-discovery.  It’s a hejira that suddenly, but by choice, puts this long-married, well-to-do mother of two, alone, in a beach house on Cape Cod where she can observe the tides, the sea lions, and her own reawakening as a person.

With gorgeous location cinematography that belies the film’s low budget, A Year by the Sea, based on the memoir by Joan Anderson, is not so much a chick flick as a wake-up call to all people who are stuck in a rut and think that, at a certain point, life holds no more adventures.  For the film’s Joan, those include pumping her own water, making new friends, and the need to row herself to and from her cottage.  “I think I have rowed a boat over the years,” Allen says in our phone chat, “but I certainly wouldn’t consider myself good at it.  Also, I have a rotator cuff injury, so I was worried about those scenes.  But it worked very well for the character because in the beginning part of the film, she’s not really good at it, either.”  The actress does confess that in some of the long shots later on, the person rowing is actually one of the movie’s producers.  “We didn’t have a big stunt-person budget,” Allen chuckles.

As someone who may be most famous for a scene in which she’s dangling over a pit of snakes—Steven Spielberg even dropped a dead python on her head to bolster her screams—Allen had an understandably better time consorting with seals.  “Not that I have anything against snakes, but the day we spent on Monamoy Island on the cape where there were all these seals was enchanting!  They’re very shy, so no matter how gently I moved towards them—even if they had their backs to me—they could almost sense my approach.  Which was fine with me, because as beautiful as they are, they’re very powerful creatures.  I did probably get within 20 feet of them on land before they high-tailed it into the water.”

That said, the film is more about human relationships than aquatic ones, and the actress found parallels between her own life choices and those of her character.  “When I accepted this role,” Allen notes, “I had not been married for about 18 years.  I’m very good friends with my ex-husband and with the father of my son.  I have a fantastic relationship with them; we’re just no longer married and don’t live together, but we hang out together and do things all the time.  So I didn’t have the same dilemma in my life as Joan.

“But in her case,” Allen continues, “she felt as though she had lost her own voice, her own sense of productivity and forward motion.  She began to reassess her marriage, which I think happens to a lot of people.  I’ve been through it with a lot of my friends.  At the end of the child-raising phase and having those shared responsibilities and concerns, people really can find themselves looking at each other and feeling, `And you are . . . who?  We’re still together . . . why?’  At that moment, people either—and often do—leave relationships that have meant the world to them.  Or they really dig down and find a way to renegotiate, renavigate the relationship with the idea that they can discover things about themselves, and it won’t put the relationship in jeopardy.”


Most inspiring about the Year by the Sea story, says Allen, is Joan’s willingness to adjust.  “I don’t think we get to see that in films very often,” the actress notes.  “We see men leaving their wives for younger women or women leaving their husbands for younger men.  Those sorts of shenanigans!  But we don’t see mature people who really care about each other trying to figure out what they have to change and grow in order to deserve their relationship.”

Currently single, the actress has been trying to simplify her life.  She closed the textile company she founded in 2003, Karen Allen Fiber Arts, because she found herself “juggling way too many things,” and has been concentrating on directing.  Her short film, A Tree, A Rock, A Cloud, based on a story by a young Carson McCullers, is making the festival rounds.  “I’ve been directing plays for about 10 years,” says Allen, “but I hadn’t put my foot in the water of directing a film, which is a much bigger deal.  With plays, I work under the auspices of a theater, so I step in as the director, cast the play and work with a designer, but I don’t have to raise money and pull together a crew myself.  It’s a big commitment.  In fact, it took two-and-a-half years just to get to our world premiere.”

Despite the labor-intensive nature of moviemaking, Allen says she looks forward to her next project, a feature.  She says, “I think I turned to directing because I didn’t want to work just to work.  During fallow periods when I wasn’t finding a project I wanted to do, I felt I should be able to open up a much broader world of material.  There doesn’t have to be a role in it for me in order for me to have a lot of interest in it.”

Allen’s wider angle on the arts goes back to her early 20s, when a friend brought her to a performance by Jerzy Grotowski’s legendary experimental theater troupe.  Before then, she had “literally zero interest in the theater and acting.  I was a film lover just in my life, but film was something at a great distance.  I never had met an actor growing up.  I couldn’t wrap my mind around that being a job anyone could imagine themselves doing.”  However, post-Grotowski, Allen immersed herself in training: “reading plays, performing in plays, even producing and directing plays back then.  One of the first I ever did was by the wonderful writer, John Hawkes.  It was called The Innocent Party, and it was very interesting and surreal.  I also did a play that Sylvia Plath had written as a radio play, called Three Women. And I did The Player Queen by William Butler Yeats.

“Back then,” continues Allen, “I directed more out of necessity than choice.  We had an experimental theater company, and we’d develop our own projects both within and outside of it.  So we did our own sets, found our own costumes.  We all did a bit of everything.”

But then came Animal House and a little film called Raiders of the Lost Ark, and the boho, Illinois-born actress became everyone’s girl-next-door crush with a powerhouse punch.  Asked if appearing in two pop-culture classics kept her from being taken more seriously as an artist, Allen replies, “I don’t really know.  I think the film industry has a certain desire to put people in a box or create a stereotype.  I know that after I did Raiders, a lot of the film offers that came towards me were very similar in nature.  And that didn’t interest me.  I mean, I also did The Wanderers, based on Richard Price’s novel — and that was right after Animal House.  I did a more serious film called A Small Circle of Friends about students at Harvard during the late 60s.  But before Starman, I also went back to the theater for a year and a half and did two plays [Extremities and Monday after the Miracle] that challenged the living daylights out of me.  I was waiting for the right film to come along that wasn’t trying to capitalize on Raiders’s success.”  Allen stops for a moment, then laughs, “Maybe that was the wrong way to have a career—I think you’re supposed to capitalize on success!”

 Now at 65, Allen appreciates her level of fame but has also experienced the challenges facing performers who’ve moved past the girlfriend/glamour roles.  A Year by the Sea features many closeups of the actress that are compelling but not always flattering, which leads to the question of whether she, like far too many Hollywood cohorts, ever considered going under the knife.  “I am such a wuss,” she answers, “that the idea of letting anybody sticking a needle in my face, for any reason short of being in a car accident or if somebody cut my face, is beyond my wildest dreams.

“To me, it’s a personal choice whether people wanna have plastic surgery or not,” she continues.  “I often feel a kind of sadness or horror when I see it too much.  With Botox and those things, sometimes the real character and human quality of the face is lessened.

I like the way an aging face looks.  It’s not great for one’s vanity when you blow it up onto a screen, especially with these very unforgiving digital cameras that we have these days.  You notice every little sag.  But you just have to take a deep breath and say, `yeah, I’m not gonna look the way I did when I was 35.’  I know there’s a lot of pressure on actors and people in many professions to look younger, but for myself, I really do question the value that we seem to have within our culture.”


On the personal side, although certainly open to another serious relationship at some point, Allen puts no pressure on herself to find a partner.  “I’m waiting for the right person to come into my life,” she says, “but I’m not somebody who is uncomfortable being alone.  There are pros and cons to being on your own, but I don’t feel the need to be in search of a relationship because I have difficulty being a singular person in my life.  On the other hand, I would be delighted to meet somebody for the next phase.  It just hasn’t happened; I don’t know why.”

Though she still keeps an apartment in Manhattan, Allen makes her home on 28 acres in the small town of Monterey, Massachussetts.  She explains that New York City, especially after Sept. 11, 2001, became too challenging a place to live full time.  “My son’s 11th birthday was a few days after 9/11,” she recalls.  “We worked our way through it as a city and as a community, but it had a terrible impact on the film and theater world for quite awhile afterwards.  And simultaneously with that, I was discovering that trying to raise a child while working would be all-consuming.  My husband and I had separated, and I wanted to be a more present parent in my son’s life.  I had been working fairly consistently with a great deal of interest and joy for a good 20 years, so it just felt like a good time to take my son out of the city and move to the countryside.”

The actress adds, “For my son—when he was little and we would be in the country—it was the world of `yes.’  He would be outside, running—he could pick up an insect from the grass.  Everything was `yes!’  Then we get to New York City when he was four or five years old, and I’d be constantly running after him going `NOOOOO!’ and grabbing, like, a crack vial from the playground: `Oh my God, put that down!’  So do I want to live in a world of `yes,’ or do I want to live in a world of `no?’  I kept coming back to the feeling that `yes’ was the better choice.”



Do you have a diet/exercise regimen?

I wish I could say I do!  If I had my druthers, I’d do vigorous yoga every day and try to eat healthy and organic.  I do love raw foods: vegetables and salads, though I’m not a vegetarian right now.  So the reality of my regime and what I aspire to…there’s a little distance between them.

Favorite meal?

My son Nicholas [Nick Browne] is an extraordinary, French-trained chef.  In fact, he just won on “Chopped.”  He’ll make a fresh tomato sauce on pasta that’s better than anything I’ve ever tasted in my life.  He makes a Jerusalem artichoke soup that I love.  But you know what?  Every recipe, if you wonder where the turning point is…it always comes down to butter.

Favorite vacation spot
A place with beautiful, clean, clear, salt water.  I have a little fixation on the west coast of Jamaica in the West Indies because I went there when I was 18.

Read any good books lately?

Atul Gawande’s Being Mortal, which I thought was breathtaking.  I’ve been reading and re-reading a lot of Carson McCullers and early Donna Tartt books.  I also read a lot of books on Buddhist thought because it inspires me.

What have you been listening to?

I love the band Dawes, and I’m a huge Van Morrison fan.  Also, David Gray, the blues, Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Tom Petty, Joni Mitchell, and on and on and on.  There’s a whole world of 60s-70s music that just sits in my soul from growing up during that period. And I know the words to every Beatles song ever written.

If you could go back and give your 20-year-old self a message, what would it be?

Don’t get so stressed out about things.  Relax and enjoy the ride a little more.  We have to take a deep breath and allow the space in ourselves to accept things, to let go of the anxiety that sits in us and prevents us from enjoying the moment as much as we should.



David Lefkowitz is an adjunct professor of English at the University of Northern Colorado. He also co-publishes Performing Arts Insider (TotalTheater.com) and hosts Dave’s Gone By (davesgoneby.com) on UNC Radio. His play, The Miracle of Long Johns, won the best non-fiction script award at the 2015 United Solo Festival.



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