
I post this interview with producer Tom Kirdahy on March 24, 2020, the day it was announced that his beloved husband, playwright Terrence McNally, died from complications of having contracted the coronavirus. For the past two days here in my loft in Hudson, New York, Tom’s recorded voice has kept me company during these lonely days of self-quarantining that is the way we live now. I have had this interview in my recorder for a few months but only have now gotten around to transcribing it.
There are no coincidences.
This conversation was a source of company and solace to me the last couple of days just as I now wish solace for Tom as he begins to mourn the death of his husband Terrence whose voice as a playwright was so often one that itself gave voice to generations of gay men.
Terrence’s talent and focus and output as a dramatist always inspired me.
Tom’s work as an activist and lawyer and producer have inspired me as well.
But their love story – that inspiration – is what I celebrate today and the fact that they were married in a country that recognized the dignity of their love. Their work as gay men helped to foster that recognition. Gave rise to it. There was a delight and dignity to Terrence’s work. There is dignity to Tom’s, too, as he so often finds the delight in political activism and mentoring others. Their love itself was ordained with a dignity and a delight that death will not end.
Tom and I met for coffee close to their Village home one Saturday. It was before The Inheritance had officially opened. It was still in previews as was his production of Little Shop of Horrors. His other show, Hadestown, was still packing them in. Kirdahy’s other productions have included The White Chip and Anastasia, along with The Jungle and the recent revival of Frankie & Johnny in the Clair de Lune. Other past productions: It’s Only a Play; The Visit; The Goat, Or Who is Sylvia?; White Rabbit, Red Rabbit; Mothers and Sons; After Midnight; Ragtime; and Master Class.
There are a few questions and statements in this interview that allude to Terrence McNally who was then still alive. I have left them as they were … as they are … for Terrence through his work will live on. We will always have his words. And I’m sure Tom will continue to produce his work as he did when Terrence was alive. Tom was his greatest champion as well as his husband.
I came across this quote from McNally about his parents and their own marriage and the ironically ineffable quality of love. “My parents’ marriage was not without strain,” he said. “I come from a family of heavy drinkers, so that was an aspect of growing up. But I mainly felt left alone, not blockaded. They were the original ‘don’t ask, don’t tell.’ They could be quite charming, too. One year, Toscanini was conducting Aida, and the best radio in the house was with the TV. Remember consoles — a TV and record player in a beautiful cabinet? So my parents sat in the car, listening to the football game, and left me be in the house, listening. I think that’s more love than saying, ‘I love you.’ I remember them out there in their coats; it can get cold in South Texas in the winter.”
I like to think that Terrence finally found in Tom someone to sit inside with him, and listen.
KEVIN SESSUMS: Don’t take this the wrong way, but think The Inheritance is like binge-watching a great Netflix series. That is the cultural lingua franca now. So I mean that as praise.
TOM KIRDAHY: I hear it as that. The time flies while you’re watching it. If we heard one criticism early on in London, it was that there was too much time between seeing the two parts. People wanted to have a quick dinner and get right back into the story. Clearly people are hungry for story and audiences have been trained – because of binge-watching – to sit and take in an expansive story
KS: But it has to be as good as The Inheritance is because we have also been trained to just click onto something else if we are not satisfied with the story.
TK: But no one has quite heard or seen the story in The Inheritance because it is the story of generations.
KS: But it is the story of Howard’s End by E.M. Forster so they have seen and heard – and even read – this story. It’s based on Howard’s End.
TK: It’s not. It’s inspired by Howard’s End. It’s not Howard’s End. I don’t agree with that statement. It’s inspired by the novel. I think there is a distinction.
KS: Which is?
TK: A story, a book, a novel launched a series of ideas in another person for him to tell a story in his own way and through his prism through very different characters.
KS: Then why is E.M. Forster in the play as a character himself?
TK: You saw the play. I think it is all there in the writing. There is a fabulous scene between one of the lead characters Toby Darling – the playwright character – and Forster himself in which Toby challenges Forster for not having been out in his lifetime. We are left to wonder: Was that a luxury he had or did he not have and what might have happened if he had not felt social pressure because of it in his writing? Forster’s novel Maurice set in a drawer for decades because he was afraid of revealing his sexuality.
KS: Do people who are closeted have an impulse to create their art in a way that they wouldn’t have created if they were out?
TK: I think it is a legitimate question.
KS: Is there a legitimate answer?
TK: I don’t think there is a one-size-fits-all answer.
KS: You’re such a lawyer.
TK: No. I think artists are really complicated human beings. I think for some of them it is an impulse that drives their expression and for others it is an excuse for a copout.

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