New Images of Jim Brochu as Zero Mostel.

Jim opened "Zero Hour" down at the Maltz Jupiter Theater last night and posted these fabulous new photos. This is my favorite. It looks like a movie still. We have been approached by people who think Zero Hour would make a good movie. 

"In the show, thanks in part to a crafty makeup job,
 Brochu bears an uncanny resemblance to the burly, larger-than-life Mostel. " Hap Erstein.

He wears, for the record, almost no make-up. He uses a pencil and draws "Hirschfeld lines" on his eyebrows after plastering his hair down to look like a combover. I wonder how many make-up artists have used Al Hirschfeld's caricatures as a basis for celebrity make-up? At MGM, I'm told the iconic actresses would come to a photo shoot with zero make-up, and that artists add that later, to the photograph.

Zero Mostel (Jim Brochu) being grilled in front of the House committee. "All of Zero’s testimony in front of the House Un-American Activities Committee is online, a lot of his letters between himself and ( his wife ) Kate, so many articles, interviews...” from PB ArtsPaper.

Jim did a great job of condensing the testimony. It's funny and scary all at the same time, as you realize how easy it is to go from having an opinion, to being blacklisted and an object of suspicion and fear. Zero admits he was a Marxist, but it was because he felt, during the 30s, as did many, that only the commies were opposing the Nazis. Right or wrong, it's what he believed, and he also liked how Franklin Roosevelt kept everyone working when no one could get a job.

"The government gave me paint, and a brush."

People like Mostel were being accused of being foreign agents with an intent to overthrow the government through the use of violence. Absurd. And they were forced to betray their friends who might also have those same political beliefs, or never work again.

Zero took it even more personally. "Commie equaled liberal, and liberal equaled Jew."

His best friend Philip Loeb committed suicide after he was blacklisted.

He would also butter his arm in a public restaurant and ask for more butter, according to Piper Laurie, who also knew him in those days. He was absurd, loud and unpredictable.

I thought about Zero and how wonderful he'd be in this play that just opened on Broadway, a birthday gift from Charlotte Rae, "La Bete," where a very serious playwright character is confronted by an inebriated, besotted-with-himself fool of a playwright. (Mark Rylance in the performance of a lifetime, with David Hyde Pierce, bravely finding a thousands ways to show withering contempt, and who we met afterwards -- nicest person on the planet).

Charlotte Rae visiting David Hyde Pierce backstage after "La Bete."
I was so excited, I forgot to ask for one with myself.

I also reminded David that each time we've gotten major awards in Los Angeles, it's he who ends up either announcing it or giving it to us. (We don't really know each other.)

But the discussion of what's "art" and what's just commercial crap has been going on since the dawn of time. Jim and I, of course, embrace both in TLS, TBV and Zero Hour. We like plays that mean something and that might have an idea or an opinion or a point of view hovering in the background, but we also love a good belly laugh and a little baggy pants.

Oh, and we're not afraid of drawing out a tear or two, either.

Speaking of which, we now have a new production of The Last Session scheduled for the Fall in Norwich, Connecticut, and The Big Voice, maybe even with Jim and myself, is coming to a small theater in Canada next summer, if we can coordinate schedules. And New World Waking is coming to Miami.

I'm more or less staying home, keeping ice on my shoulder. (Frozen Chinese vegetables are almost as good as frozen peas, btw.)

A Genius Bit from Zero Mostel.

From Frank Rizzo's column via Broadway Stars.

In searching for a "Funny Thing" clip of Zero Mostel I came across this outstanding piece of comic brilliance, a rare clip from a 1961 show produced by David Susskind. Mostel's piece is "An Actor Prepares."

David Burns & Zero Mostel at The Paley Center.

David Burns backstage during The Price at what is now the Richard Rodgers Theatre, then called the 46th Street Theatre.

Inside the Paley Center for Media, a television museum where there is a treasure trove of history. We were invited to see what kind of video they might have of Jimmy's two biggest stage heroes, David Burns and Zero Mostel. Zero is more famous because he did movies and television. But David Burns, while he appeared here and there on TV, made most of his public appearances on the stage. He was, by all accounts, the funniest second banana who ever lived.

Jim tells the story of David Merrick begging Davey to be in a show. Merrick, was, as "Zero" puts it in Zero Hour, "the meanest son of a bitch in the history of the American theatre."

David Burns was fearless, however. After telling Merrick twice to go f*** himself, Merrick finally called Burns into his office. David entered, stripped totally naked except for his socks and a cigar and stood there waiting for Merrick to pay him what David demanded.

He got it.

The treats this day were numerous.

First, they had a kinescope of Zero doing bits from his stand-up act in 1948! He was a janitor with 10 minutes on his own to clean up the office for Christmas. But what he does is daydream and improvise all over the set. It's just a remarkable piece of tape.

What made us jump, though, was seeing who it was produced by: Phillip Loeb. (If you see Zero Hour, you'll know why this matters. Loeb is a huge part of the play).

But the one that got me was the broadcast of "Hallmark Hall of Fame" production of "The Price," by Arthur Miller. Davey plays this old Jewish man who comes in to appraise, and then buy, a room full of old furniture and personal items. He won an Emmy for this performance.

Now, I've seen some of Burns' stuff, and, while he was definitely a funny guy, most of it seemed to be shtick. Jokes, routines, etc. While I enjoy these things, shtick is still shtick.

I was not prepared for this performance. David was in a scene with George C. Scott, who is no slouch in the acting department, but, by doing nothing but being fully present in the scene, it was as if the center of gravity had moved right to wherever he was standing.

I could see Scott trying every trick in the book to take the scene away, but all Burns had to do was simply open his mouth and say the words, and Scott was left looking like an acting student on his first day in class.

It was a stunning revelation to see David Burns doing what all great actors do when they're at the top of their game, which is nothing. You could see no wheels turning. Nothing except a fully lived flesh and blood character just taking every moment and breaking your heart into a thousand pieces. I was stunned.

The curator told us that so many of the early tapes of live television were just erased over and reused because tape was expensive back then. It's just devastating to think of the history that's been lost because of these kinds of practices. We think of networks as these hulking behemoths with endless pots of money.

But back then, it was you and me and the cat putting on a show.

Jim sat there watching Davy, tears streaming down his face. When Burns had dropped out of The Price due to an illness, they talked him into going back in. So, he called Jim over and Jim had the privilege of sitting there running lines with him as he rehearsed the script. He loved Davy with all his heart. It was Davy who made it possible for him to get backstage, hang out and meet all these great characters. Davy who recommended him for his first job at Surflight Summer Theater.

Jim with Davy Burns.

David Burns, Garson Kanin, Maureen Stapleton and Jim Brochu.

By the time we left the museum, we could hardly speak. But he had a show to do!

God, it's lovely being back in New York.