Ruben Santiago-Hudson
Few actors can speak so authoritatively on Wilson's work: Santiago-Hudson was able to collaborate closely with the late Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright, who died of liver cancer in 2005 at age 60, and Wilson was instrumental in the actor's shift to the other side of the footlights. "After being in 80 or 90 plays, I found myself fixing things in my mind," he says. "And I thought, Well, if the director can't fix it and I think I can, why am I not directing? I spoke to August one day about a problem we were having in Gem. I'm always watching the play, watching the process. He said, 'How would you fix it?' So I told him and his jaw dropped. He said, 'Did you tell the director [Kenny Leon]?' I said, 'No, that wouldn't be appropriate. When I direct it that's what I'm going to do.' He said, 'When are you going to?' I said, 'Soon as I can get on the list.' And he said, 'You're at the top of the list.'" True to his word, the actor mounted a production last year at Princeton's McCarter Theater with Phylicia Rashad reprising her role as Aunt Ester and Roslyn Ruff, now a member of his Seven Guitars ensemble. Given his involvement in all things Wilson, it's not surprising that Santiago-Hudson talks about the playwright passionately, reverently and often in the present tense—as if Wilson were still with him. One gets the feeling that he just might be.
How did you get involved in the Signature's August Wilson season?
I called Jim [Houghton, the Signature's founder] and said, "I want to be a part of this. It would be an honor." I said, "I'd love to direct; I'll act in something." And he said, "Well, no one I know is more passionate about his work than you."
What was it like seeing Kevin Carroll as Canewell, the role that won you your Tony?
Did you feel any pressure, helming the first revival of Signature's all-Wilson season?
So what did you steal from Lloyd Richards?
What did you learn from him as a director?
What did you learn from August?
Tell me about the role Constanza Romero, August's widow, is playing at the Signature.
So let's go back a little bit. When were you first introduced to his work?
As playwrights, it seems you and August have a few things in common—an appreciation for family, a love of blues music.
That's incredible—to have all of them behind you like that.
And then last year George directed the HBO adaptation, which won every award in the book for S. Epatha Merkerson. Were you happy with it?
Which August Wilson play would you like to see get a similar treatment?
I always wondered why there weren't TV and movie versions of his work. So many of them seem so epic and worthy of something on a grand scale.
So he did have offers.
Is the money out there for that?
Which one?
At one point, there was a rumor of a one-day reading of all 10 plays. Would you do that?
It would totally sell out.
Which do you want to direct next?
It was given to me. I said to Jim, "You choose." But with August's passing and [frequent Wilson director] Lloyd Richards' passing, I would direct any August Wilson play.
It was delightful. He's extremely talented. And it was a tough position for him to be in. He came in with reservations; I came in with reservations. What we tried to do was respect each other's feelings. I said, "I'm not trying to deliver Canewell. I'm trying to deliver an entire production." And I said if he trusted me, I'd give him everything Lloyd gave me and August gave me and things I came up with.
I don't think I took it on with any more verve or passion than I would ordinarily do. I know it's a big thing, coming to New York and directing the first play since his passing. I always have pressure on myself to do the best, to bring the clearest, most profound interpretation. If I was doing it in my church basement, I'd approach it the same way.
I would be remiss in not using everything Lloyd gave me. I literally took my original 179-page script and let the cast read it. I let them see the notes August and Lloyd gave me. My assistant director pasted them on the board. This is stuff you can use not only as an actor but in life. Every day I quote Lloyd. He was a master teacher and a mentor to us all—not just African-Americans, but many white and Latino actors. If you came under his crown, he would give you a jewel from it.
The most important thing Lloyd taught me was about being a man, not a director. It was one of the things he said to me that I never forgot: "When you live your life right, you can sit in any seat in a restaurant. You don't have to watch the door." You don't have to look over your shoulder. Just be truthful, be honest, make good decisions.
There was so much. One thing was our responsibility to the work. He left us a huge body of work. And whatever battles I fight it should be about the integrity of the work. That is a lesson that's precious to me. I don't have the right to a standing ovation or a sold-out house. All I have a right to do is the work. And one thing he taught me is that no one should ever be able to deny a person what God put him on this earth to do.
She has the say on the bottom line: who gets cast, what shows they're going to do, who's gonna direct. She is the motor who makes it run. She's the voice of August. For her to allow me to have August's work in my hands and my heart—that she would say, "I trust my husband's work with you"—is such an honor. And we go way back. She costumed me in Seven Guitars.
When I walked in to see Ma Rainey's Black Bottom in 1983. I walked in at intermission. They were like, "Come in! Show's about to start!" They didn't even know I didn't have a ticket. I couldn't afford to see the whole play. I sat there and I was like, Ooh, this is heavenly! These are my people! That's my uncle, that's my aunt, that's the guy down the street. I've gotta be a part of this! It became an insatiable appetite. I just keep eating from the plate.
We shared a lot of connections: Pittsburgh roots, learning from people who were illiterate—from hanging around barbershops, restaurants, pool rooms, shining shoes. Listening to people who are real givers of life, givers of knowledge. People who have had experience. They just gave us what they had. I say that in Lackawanna Blues and I live by that.
I tried to write a little bit in college, but I wasn't ready and I guess I wasn't that good. So I never pursued it much. But I had a need to tell these stories about my life and this incredible woman who saved my life. My friends listened to me tell all these stories. George [C. Wolfe, the then-artistic director] and I are very good friends. One day, I was telling stories to another friend, [associate producer] John Dias, and he said, "George has got to hear this." So we went into George's office—John and I and [artistic producer] Rosemarie Tichler—and George said, "You need to shut up and write this play." And he sent me a commission.
They saw my hunger to tell these stories. And they felt they were poignant and important—not just to African-American people but to human beings. They thought the stories represented communities that had somehow dissolved. We need to be reminded how good and precious human beings can be to each other in this time of strife and war, and here's this warm blanket of security saying we can love each other, we can help each other. And they helped chisel it; they brought in Loretta Greco to direct. She added her ear to it. And then obviously Bill Sims Jr., who added his love and knowledge of the music we listened to every day in the rooming house. They all saw something bigger than even I saw. I just saw my love for Nanny and her love for me.
More than happy—I was elated. To see it transfer from one medium to another and still reap the kind of response and acceptance—people just embraced it.
All of 'em. But it's going to take a real sensitive team to do that, probably headed by Constanza Romero. Hollywood just has to stop and listen a little and trust the purity and the power of the work. Don't Hollywoodize it. Give it the respect and integrity they gave Lackawanna. They let those salt-of-the-earth people shine. August's work, given the right style and right platform, can literally be a piece of history that can last way longer than you and I and our kids.
Well, it's rare for the film industry to let a writer tell you how his work's going to be done. They said, "Life's too short to deal with you," and moved on. "We've got a thousand stories. We don't have to deal with August Wilson. We can do the next Chicken Little and make 200 million dollars."
And you don't turn August Wilson over to someone who doesn't know the people, understand the passion, the celebration, the joy of African-American culture. It's hard to find in Hollywood—somebody who reveres that and will not dilute it. It's a business: The film business is driven by finance, not by passion. August is driven by passion. So where do you meet? We've got to find some of those 500-million-dollar people in the black community who will say, "Let's do all 10!" I hope they let me in.
It's out there. We've got money now. We just have to take that chance. We need people to say, "This is important to me. How do we get this done?" When August was living, some of the big, big names in our community could have put a stamp on him and said, "This is our playwright. Go see August Wilson. Discover, reveal, explore the culture." Very powerful people in our community saw his work, but it was that stamp we needed. Put your money there. Produce August Wilson in a big way. August and I talked about that for a while and unfortunately he didn't live to see it happen. So it's our mission: the Stephen Hendersons, the George C. Wolfes, the Ruben Santiago-Hudsons, the Kenny Leons, the Marion McClintons. It's up to us to see if we can make that happen. Maybe I'm in a position to help make it happen. Maybe I've got to put my money where my mouth is.
I think it should be mandatory reading in high schools. You should have to read an August Wilson play just like you have to read Shakespeare. I was walking around yesterday with a script in my pocket; I went to a meeting and I set it on the table. They said, "Do you always walk around with an August Wilson play?" I said, "Yes."
Yesterday I had King Hedley II. Day before I had Two Trains Running. Day before that was Fences.
I would go crazy. I would be so delighted. We can do it in 24 hours.
That would be like a dream come true. Just to even read all of them. Or take two years and do all of them—have revolving casts with a core of actors that move around and bring in certain guests. I have the rest of my life to do that.
Oh, I'd like to do all of them. I'm going to do all of them.