John Leguizamo has headlined three Broadway solo shows, not to mention countless movie and TV appearance, but only now is the 47-year-old performer making his London stage debut. The Colombian-born actor has brought his recent Broadway entry Ghetto Klown to the intimate Charing Cross Theatre for 17 performances, through November 12. Broadway.com caught up with Leguizamo after his first preview to find out what the British were making of his loose-limbed, antic talent—and vice versa.
You had your first-ever London performance last night. How did it go?
They responded a little different here from Americans, who are much louder and crazier in the first act. In the second —which is a little bit more sophisticated —Americans just watch, while the British respond a lot more. The Americans would lose their minds at the sexual stuff, which is where the British get incredibly uncomfortable and quiet, but with the emotional stuff—which is where the Americans laugh because they’re afraid—it’s as if the British are saying, “Bring it on!”
Did you get a sense of what type of audience you’re attracting?
It was interesting: There were a lot of young people—some brothers and sisters, and I was so happy to see that, and a smattering of ethnic people and some older people, too. The head of the Abbey Theatre [in Dublin] was there, and he was very complimentary. People were saying that they had come to watch my technique, which is something to hear! [Laughs.]
What’s it like doing Ghetto Klown in a small off-West End venue after performing in a Broadway house?
I just felt like [this run] was something I had to do. I know they don’t have many Latin people here; that’s about 50 percent of my audience wherever I go in America, so I wasn’t going to have that base. But I also felt doing the show in a 250-seat theater was a beautiful challenge, like going back to where I began. And after one performance, I already appreciate the difference: In a bigger space, the laughter can feel anonymous, but in a space like this, you have to be much more personal and real and completely authentic. There are no falsities: Every move has got to be completely honest.
The playhouse may be small, but I hope you’re being housed in style!
I’m staying in the fanciest hotel—The Corinthia—I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s beautiful, man, oh my God, it’s crazy. Just because I’m in a tiny theater doesn’t mean they don’t treat you right. Anyway, I feel with [this venue] as if the name of my show takes on a new meaning: All right, the theater’s a little ghetto, but there’s a lot of power and energy that comes from doing a 250-seater. It’s a much more demanding performance in a lot of ways.
Is there a different in the amount of amplification?
I always have a mike, but that’s about protecting the voice! I want to be doing this for the rest of my life, and once you get polyps, there’s no going back.
Had you toyed with bringing shows here prior to this one?
I got invited when I did Freak and Sexaholix, but I didn’t know if my stuff would be understood. I have been to London before: I met Prince Charles with Moulin Rouge and did some voice work here on [the 2000 miniseries] Arabian Nights. But I didn’t really feel as if I knew the city at all and now I do, and I love it. People here are fun, man! Everywhere I go, they’re very ballsy, and everybody’s witty. Nobody’s afraid of speaking their mind here.
Do you feel much affinity with British actors and styles of acting?
I love English actors! I mean, their work is so precise. Sometimes American actors are a little vague and it can be like a veneer—though when an actor is great, it doesn’t matter where they’re from. Tom Wilkinson is someone I love, just how incredibly real he is, and Jim Broadbent, who does beautiful, beautiful work, and Ewan McGregor, who is so incredibly natural. I’m going to try and catch Ralph Fiennes here in The Tempest; he came to see me in New York and I can’t wait to see him here.
You’re performing not far from the Driving Miss Daisy power couple of James Earl Jones and Vanessa Redgrave.. Do you know them?
I did a reading in New York with Vanessa of [Tennessee Williams’] Camino Real for Ethan Hawke. He was thinking of directing it and wanted to test it out; it was a blast. James, I’ve met a couple of times, and we had a little visit at the Drama League Awards. It’s nice to know they’re nearby.
You were in L.A. with the play just prior to this, which must have been like industry central.
It was totally different! That was exciting because there was Gloria Estefan and Doris Roberts and all three of the Wayans Brothers, Marlon and Damon and Shawn. Everybody was coming down; that was so trippy. In January, I’m going to Colombia to perform in Spanish for the first time in my life, so there’s a lot of new shit happening. That’s what the 40s are for, I guess: conquering your fears and moving on to new territory.
You’ve had great success with your solo work but your Broadway revival of American Buffalo closed quickly. Was that a shock?
Yeah, of course I was bummed. I was going to destroy it as [the character] Teach: I was born to play that part. When [Al] Pacino did it, he tested it out for five months, and I had 10 days of previews and three weeks of rehearsal. I said I need to go and test it out, and then they cancelled the tour. Everybody was very apologetic and said, “We’re sorry we didn’t take care of you.” They understood that I got shortchanged. I was having a blast doing it, man, but I know how to safeguard myself next time; that will never happen to me again. That’s the great lesson of American Buffalo: never let myself get mistreated again.
You should consider doing it in London. They love Mamet here!
I’d love to try it here!
Do you get lonely doing your one-man plays, especially on tour?
Well, I’m here with the crew, which has become my family, and my wife is coming next week for a little romantic thingamajiggie [laughs]. But I like to think of one-man shows as a little different and very special. I can be going to Colombia or Hollywood on stage or shooting in Thailand, and you’re going there with me, which is just magic. Audiences don’t see me by myself; they see me with a whole cast. I love that. It gets my juices going.