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A Conversation with Bob Crowley
April 11, 2001

Lincoln Center Theater's Platform series presents conversations with artists working at LCT before an audience of interested theatergoers. Admission is free and open to all. Platforms are held in the lobby of the Vivian Beaumont Theater. The following is a transcript, edited for clarity, of the April 11, 2001 Platform with Bob Crowley:

THOMAS COTT: Good evening, I'm Thomas Cott, Director of Special Projects for Lincoln Center Theater. Welcome to tonight's Platform, which is made possible thanks to the generous support of the Rose M. Badgeley Residuary Charitable Trust.

For those of you who have not been here before, we started the Platform series three years ago and Bob Crowley was, in fact, our very first guest. I guess I should begin with a public apology, because at that first Platform, we didn't have a tape recorder to preserve your remarks for posterity. But we're hoping to make up for it tonight!

First, a little bit of background on tonight's guest. He's one of the busiest artists working in the theater today, designing sets and costumes for dozens of plays and musicals, mostly in London and New York. Among his many honors are two Tony Awards and the Olivier Award as Designer of the Year. Thus far, he's been nominated a total of eight times for the Tony and eleven times for the Olivier. His many Broadway credits include the recent revival of The Iceman Cometh with Kevin Spacey, the Stephen Sondheim 'review' Putting It Together, Paul Simon's The Capeman and Les Liaisons Dangereuses.

For Lincoln Center Theater, Bob has designed Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, David Hare's Racing Demon, Tom Stoppard's Hapgood, and Rodgers and Hammerstein's Carousel, for which he received his first Tony Award. Currently, he is represented in London by Witches of Eastwick and on Broadway by Elton John and Tim Rice's Aida, for which he won his second Tony—and, of course, Lincoln Center Theater's New York premiere of the Tom Stoppard play The Invention of Love. This show was originally scheduled for a limited run, but I'm happy to announce that it is now playing an open-ended engagement at the Lyceum Theatre. Please welcome Bob Crowley!

[audience applause] Now, for those of you who have not been here before, these evenings are rather informal. I'm going to begin with some questions of my own and then I'll turn the mike open to all of you, so be thinking about what you might want to ask Bob. First, let me ask you: do you read reviews of your shows?


TC: So I won't embarass you or surprise you if I...

BC: Especially the bad ones! [laughter]

TC: Well, here are some good ones. From USA Today, for instance: "Special praise goes to Bob Crowley, whose whimsical, impressionist sets both enhance the moody, almost other-worldly atmosphere of the production and lends earthy beauty and warmth to Housman's rather austere world." Clive Barnes in the Post said, "Bob Crowley's settings carry the imagination beyond the call of duty." Which is not so bad.

BC: [laughs] Whatever that is.

TC: Well, I think he was trying to figure out a way to give you as much high praise as possible. You are one of the top designers, both in London and in New York. And each time you do a new project, I think the expectation grows higher. Do you feel a burden to 'top' yourself each time that you do a new project?

BC: I'm conscious that every time I approach something that I... it's not like I ought to re-invent the wheel every time. But I'd like to think that I can bring something new to it. I think there's a limit to what I do. Hopefully, I haven't reached that limit yet. [laughter] The thing about it is, if the piece challenges me enough, than it automatically starts doing things and it finds its own course.

TC: Now this play was originally done at the Royal National Theatre in London, where you have worked a lot, but you didn't do that production.

BC: No. Ironically, I was meant to. But I was here doing the Paul Simon show, which kind of took over my life for about a year. So I couldn't do it.

TC: Did you see it at the National?

BC: I didn't even read it originally, because I couldn't do it. I knew I would love it, and when I went back to London, I saw it and I loved it.

TC: When you got involved in this new production, how did you approach the script, because it was a number of years later. Did you start from scratch?

BC: Yes, because it's a different space, different time, different director. That's the biggest thing. [Director] Jack [O'Brien] and I had collaborated on Hapgood here. So we had a kind of connection to Stoppard, an approach to Stoppard, which we discovered doing Hapgood, because he's a pretty tricky writer. [audience laughter]

TC: [laughs] I've heard that!

BC: He's got all these inside jokes. It's really hard to read this stuff. I think Hapgood was impenetrable to me the first time I read it. It had to be explained to me after I read it. Reading plays is hard even in the best of times, I think. And Tom's are particularly difficult because they're like puzzles within puzzles. You start to find layers within layers within layers all the time. You don't discover them in the first reading or on the first viewing either. So having learned a few lessons, some Stoppardian clues, on Hapgood, Jack and I went into this one with a kind of very analytical approach to it. We weren't frightened with it. That's the great thing to me about Stoppard, not to be put off by him and his brilliance.

TC: You did an interview for our in-house magazine, the Lincoln Center Theater Review. In it, you talked about how you and Jack O'Brien went through the script and color-coded the pages, to indicate not so much where the scenes were but what the intentions of the scenes were.

BC: Yes, we read the play together out loud in his apartment, here on the west side. I said I have to color-code this play. I have to have a means by which I can plan out how this thing is designed. So we went and got these color Post-its and started opening up the script, pulling out the pages and actually trying to find --

What Tom does, what he does in terms of his language, he plants an image. He'll plant a phrase. It's almost like a leitmotif that keeps recurring throughout the play. And images and situations keep coming back. But you don't automatically see it when you read it. But I knew they were there. So I wanted to approach the design in a similar kind of way: that you plant an image and you build on that and then you repeat that image. And then something else comes out of that image, pushing the action and the play forward. So that the only way I could do it is to literally say 'that's the blue section', 'that's the pink section', 'that's the white section.' And that's what we did.

TC: Your take on the play is that it's sort of a dream, and it plays out on a dreamscape which you designed.

BC: Yes, I mean, the opening scene sets the tone for the whole piece where Housman discovers he's just died. And his memory is still there. His soul is still in his body. And he is having a flashback to the principle things that happened to him in his life. And Tom picks those so-human points in his life and connects them up to the society that he lived in.

TC: And because of the dreamlike quality of the play, does that give you a certain liberty to play with...?

BC: Yes, I knew I wasn't going to set it in a library. I don't mean that disparagingly, because actually the original production was set in a library. As much as I liked the original production, I felt that the last place that you should put this play is in a library. It's a given that Housman is an intellectual and an academic. That most of the play concerns those two elements. So why set it in a library? We know he can read. We know he can write. I wanted to set it somewhere else.

I thought the choice you have to make with the play is not to set it realistically. You have to decide whether it's set in heaven or in hell. It begins in hell, or on the River Styx, and his remembrance is a kind of heavenly vision of his youth when he was at his happiest. So there are the two , that's your Scylla and that's your Charybdis , and you've got to decide which one you're going to go for. I found out that he didn't go for either and I actually had to accommodate both, because it's constantly, even within one scene, he's back on the River Styx and he's in Oxford simultaneously. The more real you make this kind of play, the less fluid the production is going to be.

TC: Speaking of fluid, you did a beautiful job of putting water on the stage of the Beaumont for Twelfth Night, and although there's quite a lot of water imagery in Invention, you didn't choose to use actual water. You did a kind of a glossy surface instead.

BC: Yes, I did at one point think about flooding the stage at the Lyceum, because of the River Styx and the River Hades in Oxford. At one point, we reduced it to a pool and he was going to step off the boat into a pool. And then I thought it's too literal. It's actually too true to the piece. So the shiny floor was the first thing I thought of. And I found this black mirror to give the boat's reflection in the river. And you've got the mirror imagery of the old Housman with the young Housman, so it had a double meaning to me.

TC: Okay. You read the script and you color-coded it, as you described. Then what did you do? You did period research?

BC: Yes, I've done quite a few plays around this period. I've done three productions concerning Oscar Wilde, so I had a lot of stuff on him already and I brought all that stuff together. Then the biggest practical problem in this play was how you do the boats. And Jack had the most brilliant notion , we didn't want to make it a technical thing, using a track in the floor, because I didn't want to break the surface of this black mirror. I was completely neurotic about cutting into it with anything. I didn't even people want people to walk on it! [laughter]

TC: During technical rehearsals, the cast had to wear special shoes, right?

BC: They did. I banned them all from walking on it during the tech rehearsal. I made them all wear these type of painter's shoes, which was like wearing paper bags over their shoes. It looked like "Sesame Street" with them walking around with these huge white feet. [laughter] And I got very anal about it. It's absolutely true. But I gave up on it after a while, once those techy people started pulling ladders and making scratches in the floor. [pause] I've lost my train of thought....

TC: The boats.

BC: The boats. So the idea was not to make boats mechanical in any way. One way was we could motorize them. We could put engines in them and they could move themselves around. In London, the actors pushed them around by their feet which, at times, it was just like the Flintstones up there. [laughter] So again, I was trying to retain the poetry of the moment, which is always the most difficult thing to do.

Also, I had to make the boats look like they were semi-submerged in the water. They couldn't just sit on top of the surface. So the actors' knees are up around their waists half the time. And Jack then had this brilliant notion of having Charon's boat pulled by young boys , sort of a kabuki thing. And then I said, we could dress them like a Victorian funeral cortege. That seemed the most natural way to do it. From that came the idea of the other boat being pulled by Oxford students. And then from that came the whole idea of actors moving all the set pieces. So the actors, plus a few stage hands, shift everything on the stage. What it does is it animates, it sort of gives the play a public life, which is the life of Oxford and students at the university, populating the scenes. I loved all that. I loved all that energy you get with a lot of people on stage.

TC: When you were doing your research, did you come upon anything that surprised you about the period, that you didn't already know? Any special discoveries which led to things that are on the set now?

BC: Well, the whole Oscar Wilde thing, I mean there's more there than... it's amazing, I keep discovering more stuff about him. I thought I knew everything there was to know about him. But there was a lot of stuff that came out about him. I was reading an autobiography of Graham Greene and he was describing his father, who was on holiday in Sicily. He was having lunch at this café. This tramp came along and sat down and basically begged food and drink off of him, but regaled them with the most fabulous stories and entertained them for an hour and a half. He sang for his supper, as it were. And then he left. Graham Greene's father said, "Who was that man?" His friend replied, "It's Oscar Wilde."

So that whole second appearance of Oscar, although it's in the play and it's very much influenced by that kind of background. You've got to credit Tom Stoppard for that. And I found an image of the Savoy Theatre in London, which has burned down three times. It's now an art deco building. I found that, so I knew I wanted to do the little Bunthorne scene as a proscenium inside a proscenium. [Invention includes a brief excerpt from Gilbert & Sullivan's operetta Patience, performed by the actor portraying Oscar Wilde.]

And then Tom, when he looked at the set model, he said, "Actually, you know, for the second Oscar Wilde scene, we can bring it back." So we take all the scenery away inside that smaller proscenium, and then you get to see the 'actor' playing Oscar, but it's the 'real' Oscar the second time around.

TC: There are lots of levels.

BC: Yeah, that's what I mean about Tom's play repeating itself and the scenery following those kinds of hints in the language.

TC: Presumably, when you work on a new play, you meet with the playwright early on?

BC: If they're alive. [laughter]

TC: Yes, if they're alive. Otherwise, it isn't always convenient. [laughter] But in this case, you actually didn't talk to Tom until you had already done quite a lot of work, right?

BC: That's true.

TC: What if he had said, "No, no, this doesn't work at all."?

BC: [laughs] I suppose I don't know what I would have done. I would have committed hari kari or something. I didn't want to show him too much too soon. It's always tricky showing an author a design. Also, Tom has seen three or four productions of this play by now. So I didn't know if I was going to show him something that he had seen before or something that was so extreme that he wouldn't go along with it.

But I had worked out my arguments. There was one iffy moment, I remember, when we all gathered here to go through the whole thing again one Sunday morning. I was describing a moment, which is still in the production, where Walter Pater is talking about the Renaissance while standing in front of Leonardo da Vinci's drawing of a man with his arms extended inside a large circle. Housman is watching Pater and, at the same time, da Vinci's image triggers in Housman's mind the image of Moses Jackson running. And I saw an opportunity to show the outstretched arms of Jackson crossing the finish line at a race. You dissolve from one thing to another.

We didn't want to have the real Moses Jackson on stage at that particular moment, because it would be too concrete. And I tried to tell Tom how we were going to do this. [In the production, Jackson is seen running on a video which is superimposed over the da Vinci drawing.] But I couldn't show Tom a version of that. He had to imagine it. I think he found it difficult to understand what that would look like in reality, because I wasn't able to simulate it at the time.

But we hung in there. I said to him, "You have to see it in the context of the show and, trust me, if it doesn't work, we'll do something about it later." I think Tom felt that moment was going too far at the time. But now he loves it.

TC: You also did the costumes for the show which, unlike the settings, are realistic.

BC: Yes, they're totally realistic. In fact, they're so realistic, two of them are actually from the original time period.

TC: Wow.

BC: I found these old clothes at a costume shop that does a lot of period movies and shows. I just wanted old clothes. I didn't want them to look like the actors were dressed in costume. I wanted them all to look like these people had one good suit and they wore it all the time. They were married in it and they were buried in it, like my uncle was.

At this costume shop, I found on the rails two jackets that are from the period. And they became Walter Pater's costumes, because the actor playing Pater is the smallest actor in the company. Actors these days, particularly American actors, are so worked out. Body size is completely different now from what it would have been a hundred years ago. But the actor playing that part is, well, bird-like in stature and he was able to fit into them. Those are actual coats from 1885.

TC: Was your conscious decision to make the costumes so realistic at odds with the unrealistic settings?

BC: No, because you're dealing with real people here. It's not inventing a world like Shakespeare or any other playwright for that matter. You're dealing with people who actually existed. I've got documentation, I've got the photographs, I know what they looked like. Okay, I'm not trying to turn the actor into the character, if he's 6' 2" instead of 5' 4" or he's got red hair instead of being bald. But I wanted them to look real, to have the smell of, say, ink on their fingers.

TC: Great. Now I don't want to ask all the questions. [to the audience:] Do any of you have things you want to ask? Yes, ma'am.

AUDIENCE MEMBER #1: I'm curious whether there was something in your childhood that pointed you in the direction of theatrical design?

BC: I had amazing grandparents, who subsequently semi-adopted me. They took me to whatever theatre there was. I was born in Cork, in southern Ireland, and there wasn't a great deal. There was no professional theatre there. A few English companies used to come around, like Gilbert & Sullivan companies. But, like a lot of provincial towns, there was a very healthy bit of amateur theater with delusions of grandeur. [laughs] I saw quite a range of style when I was very young. My parents were interested in opera, they just loved music. And we were always listening to Rodgers and Hamerstein. So between the two, I suppose they introduced me to theater at an early age.

Of course, I didn't really know people like me existed. I knew there were actors. I could see an actor. I could see the scenery but I didn't know where it came from. I didn't question where it came from. It was really much later, when I had the ability to draw and paint, that I decided to apply that to theatre.

There was a kind of a moment of realization when I saw the original production of Oliver!, designed by a man called Sean Kenny. That production was a revelation to me. It was very much influenced by a visit by the Berliner Ensemble to London at the time. They had taken away all the scenery. There was an exposed back wall and you could see the lights. And he'd applied that aesthetic to Lionel Bart's musical and that was a bit of a revelation. It was like sculpture to me, as opposed to just painted scenery flying in.

TC: You've done an almost equal amount of plays and musicals...

BC: Actually, no, I haven't. I've only done four musicals. Carousel was the first, Paul Simon's was the second, Aida is third and Witches of Eastwick the fourth. I've done mostly Shakespeare. I spent 12 years with the Royal Shakespeare Company at Stratford doing nothing but Shakespeare, because that's kind of where I was at at the time. I mixed in some contemporary work, but mostly it was the classics.

TC: Do you find now that you're so in demand for musicals that's it hard to fit in the plays?

BC: Well, I was Shakespeare'd out, it has to be said, by the end of 12 years doing nothing but Shakespeare virtually. I had done a huge project called The Plantagenets, which was basically the War of the Roses. It was about nine hours of Shakespeare and it went all day. The audience arrived at 10 o'clock in the morning and left at 11 o'clock that night. And it completely exhausted me! It was phenomenal, but just by the end of that, I thought I have to take a break this time, or it's going to kill me. So I didn't do it for about 2 or 3 years and I went back to it again at the National to do some small scale stuff. And then I came here to do Twelfth Night.

AM #2: As a sought-after set designer, how do you choose what you're going to do?

BC: I like to keep a kind of a balance. I like to do the small stuff. And I like to do the big stuff. Of course, you get more money to do the big stuff, but with that comes all sorts of headaches and anxieties, the pressure to succeed. I'm a child of the subsidized theatre. I grew up working for the RSC and the National where it doesn't have to be a huge financial success, because you're subsidized. The plays aren't going to have to run for four years to make the money back.

In the subsidized theater, I had the freedom—okay, you don't get paid very much for designing them. But what you get in return, is the freedom as an artist, to sort of expand your repertoire and take risks. So I try and still do the smaller stuff. The not-for-profit stuff, as it were.

TC: You've worked with a few directors over and over again, so I assume that certain of your friends come to you and say, "here's our next project"?

BC: What happens is, by working with them, they become your friends —or your enemies. [laughter] And so you get to work with them again. It's like plugging into an old friendship. You don't have to catch up. You develop sort of a language. It's easier than with new people. Although to work with new people is challenging. The truth is, the older I get, the more I'm tending to work with my friends which is a bit worrying.

TC: Well, you have lots of friends!

BC: I do.

TC: More questions?

AM #3: I was here for your last Platform a few years ago, when you were talking about Twelfth Night and the theme of mirror imagery in that play, which echoes again with The Invention of Love. Do you look for these kinds of themes when choosing a play to work on?

BC: I always look for the metaphor in a play. Because all good plays have them. I would rather go for the theatricality in a piece rather than reproduce it realistically in an architectural way or something like that. If I choose my work, it's that I tend to choose the kind of stuff that allows me that kind of freedom. So I would always go for the more poetic, the more abstract kinds of plays.

Having said that, I've done hyhper-realistic stuff like Eugene O'Neill's The Iceman Cometh. But I try to find another way of doing it. Research is only one part of it. Anyone can do research any period, especially today, because we've got this means in our living room, with the Internet. You've just got to go beyond that. You've got to go beyond the way that television and films rarely do. That's the strength of theatre. That's why people come back to the theatre again and again, I think. That's why I'm here and not in Hollywood.

TC: You have done a few films, however.

BC: I have, but they weren't the happiest of experiences. For all of those reasons that I just said, because it's hard to expand that vocabulary. You're not ultimately in control of it either. In movies, you've got the cameraman that has control. And the director and the editor. Whereas in theater, I am my own cameraman, for all intents and purposes, with the director, my own editor, as well. I mean, we choose together what you see, what an audience actually focuses on at any one point. In the movies, in TV, forget it. That's taken out of your hands. It can be exciting, but it can be incredibly frustrating in that respect.

AM #4: I saw the play before, in London and in San Francisco, and I have to say your production is absolutely wonderful. Your design really brings out the fluidity in the text. I'm curious what kind of influence you may have had on the director [Jack O'Brien] and his approach to the play.

BC: Jack came to this with exactly the same premise that I did. That is, we love Stoppard. He gives back. He gives you so much. If anything, he can be too clever by half. He admits it himself. And our job, it's my job anyway, no matter what I do. I don't just do this for Tom Stoppard. It's my job to make the piece as accessible to an audience as is humanly possible without demystifying it. I don't want to dumb it down.

What I do want to do is flesh it out and make it three-dimensional and make it exciting without upstaging it. But not being in self-denial about it either. So there's a fine balance between what the actor has to do and what the director does. And you're constantly trying to find the balance. In the process of putting it into the theater, that's where we fine tune everything. "That's too much. Pull back." But the idea is just to make it a piece of theatre that's great to look at, as well as great to hear.

AM #5: Do living authors have a big say in the work that you do on their plays?

BC: They can do. I mean some authors write very, very explicit stage instructions as to how they see their plays. Although I have found that most of them are more than happy to—you know, they spend so much of their life alone at their typewriters, that when they're suddenly brought into the situation of putting their play on, which is a collaboration between six or seven interested bodies, they're so thrilled to be in the room. [laughs] They can talk to people and get something back. I have never found an author who didn't respond to the process.

AM #6: I have two questions. Are there other designers that you admire? And are there particular projects that you want to work on in the future?

BC: Yes, there are lots of designers that I admire. I hate naming names, though, in case I leave someone out.

AM #6: I guess I mean are there designers from the past that influenced you.

BC: Well, the one I mentioned earlier which was Sean Kenny. I was very influenced by an English designer called Joclyn Herbert, who is now 80. She created the Royal Court Theare school of design back in the 1950s, where they stripped everything away and got down to the raw space. She had a huge influence in liberating plays. And she was dealing with kitchen sink drama. The 'Angry Young Men of England' [i.e. playwrights like John Osborne] back in the '50s. But she found a way of taking those very realistic plays and staging them in a non-realistic way which enhanced them. And so I've been very inspired by her. She's the great unsung hero, I think, of the English stage.

TC: And are there projects that you've been dreaming about working on? Or are you always in love with the next thing you're doing?

BC: Yeah, there are, there are a couple of operas I'd like to get my hands on.

TC: You've done a fair amount of operas.

BC: I have, yes.

TC: Do you find that world vastly different from the theater?

BC: No, it's very similar. The problem with opera is that they want you years in advance, because they book the singers years in advance. And it can be very frustrating to design something that you don't see and manifest itself until two years later, by which time you've done another 10 to 12 shows and you've completely changed your mind. But it's stuck up there. The horror story is about opera is that it doesn't go away.

TC: Because it's in the repertory.

BC: If it's remotely successful, it's going to outlast you anyway. [laughter] It'll be bloody well up there, even after you're six feet under. I remember I bumped into somebody at the Royal Opera House; she was one of the costume supervisors and she was walking on the street. I said "what are you doing?" And she named all these operas she was working on. She said there were six operas she was working on and she said all the designers were dead. So I thought, oh God, it's a really frightening idea. I had one opera at the ENO [English National Opera] that I did 15 years ago. Every time I go by the theatre and see it being revived, I just want to curl up and die. [laughter]

AM # 7: I saw The Invention of Love and I wanted to ask about the unusual backdrop at the back of the stage. Is it called a scrim?

BC: No, scrim is something you can dissolve right through. There are scrims in the show. They're like a membrane. Like gauze. The backdrop we've got is unbelievably simple. It's just a piece of canvas, a huge piece of canvas with thousands of holes cut out of it, like cigarette burns all over it. It's then got a whole layer of dead leaves stuck to the front surface of it. And it's painted with all these different dyes. Gold paints. It's as simple as that. It has to be said that it's been lit so fabulously by Brian MacDevitt. Even I didn't realize the potential that this thing had when he put his hands on it. He's just done wonderful things to it. It's like [the painter] Gustav Klimt one minute, and it's like [James] Whistler another minute. It's just amazing. It's incredibly versatile.

TC: Do you find yourself influenced by certain paints when you come up with your designs?

BC: Yes, all the time. I spend most of my time going to museums and also watching films. They're the two influences. I go to the theatre quite often. But on my night off, the last place I want to go is a theater. I mean, I do go to the theatre a lot, but I love going to museums and art galleries.

TC: Speaking of paintings, this is probably as good a time as any to acknowledge Bob's really important to the poster art for The Invention of Love. Because it was Bob who found this image [Jean-Hippolyte Flandrin's painting of a young male nude sitting on a rock] and brought it to us and said, "how about this?" And it's proved to be a remarkably powerful yet simple way to communicate a lot of what the show is about, to get at the sensibility of the play. So I just wanted to say that publicly, in case you all didn't know.

BC: People think it's a portrait of Robert Sean Leonard [who plays young Housman in the production]!

TC: It's not. It's actually a French painting from the 19th century.

BC: It's quite a well-known painting hanging in the Louvre Museum.

TC: Well, do you want to talk about your upcoming projects? I know you have plans to do The Seagull this summer in Central Park, directed by Mike Nichols and starring, seemingly, every famous actor in America. And then beyond that, you're doing your fifth musical, a stage version of the movie Sweet Smell of Success—with Nicholas Hytner directing, a score by Marvin Hamlisch & Craig Carnelia and a book by John Guare.

BC: Yes, I'm going back to my not-for-profit roots with The Seagull. Actually, I worked with Mike Nichols as an actor. We did a Wallace Shawn play called The Designated Mourner in London, at the National, 4 years ago.

Mike actually was in it, acting, and he was absolutely brilliant. And so when he asked me to do this piece in the Park, I knew I didn't have to do very much, because the first two acts are by a lake anyway. [This production will be at the outdoor Delacorte Theatre in Central Park.] So I'm letting God do that, although I'm having a nervous breakdown about the other two acts [laughter], because they're all set in interiors. I don't know how we're going to do that yet. We'll find a way.

TC: Have you done open air theater before?

BC: Not intentionally. [laughter] And then there's Sweet Smell, which is a wonderful, dark, kind of angry piece. There's wonderful music that has a classic Broadway, jazzy feeling to it by Marvin. It's absolutely beautiful, fantastic stuff. And a great book by John Guare. John Lithgow and Brian D'Arcy James are playing the parts originally done by Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis.

TC: Well, we look forward to both of those and [to the audience:] if you have not yet seen The Invention of Love, the run has been extended into the summer and we hope you will come see that.

Bob, we're so grateful that you've come here to speak with us, but now we have to let you go, so we can get the lobby ready for the show tonight. Thank you so much, Bob Crowley! [applause] And thanks to all of you for attending, too. Good night.

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