Actor Nathan Lane on His Creative Journey, Mel Brooks' "The Producers" and 40 Years in Show Business

Key Takeaway

Choose one creative or professional challenge that feels slightly beyond your current identity, then take one concrete step toward it today: send the email, book the audition, start the draft, or volunteer for the harder assignment. Nathan Lane’s career shifted when he stopped protecting the label others gave him and deliberately pursued a role that scared him. Prepare thoroughly, but once you begin, stay present and let the work reveal what you can do.

Episode Overview

Nathan Lane reflects on a four-decade career spanning Broadway, film, musical comedy, and dramatic theater. He discusses how an unstable childhood, early theater experiences, difficult criticism, supportive collaborators, and a willingness to take intimidating roles shaped his craft. Lane also explains his practical process for researching characters, finding their objectives, and remaining open to discovery in performance.

Full Transcript

Transcript of Actor Nathan Lane on His Creative Journey, Mel Brooks' "The Producers" and 40 Years in Show Business from How I Built This. Auto-generated from episode audio; may contain minor errors.

You know, when I got into show business, nobody in my family said, "It wasn't that old classic story about you only pursuing a horrible profession over my dead body ." It was like, "That's it, make some money. Give us some." Hello. Welcome to The Great Creators. I 'm Guy Ross, and this is where I talk about creativity with some of the most incredible artists, musicians, and performers of our time. Today, I'm speaking with Nathan Lane. He was named the greatest stage performer of the 2000s by the New York Times.

He is someone who has mastered his art from every angle, from films like The Birdcage and The Lion King to Broadway, where he has made what he calls great comedies. Think of Max Balistock and The Producers. But he also delivered some dark and complex performances, such as in Roy Conn and Angels in America, and won Tony Awards for both. Anyway, in today's program, you'll hear why Nathan cringes at the label of Entertainer. How did a negative review motivate him to make a radical career change, why does he think the film The Producers didn't work, and the process he goes through to research a role and then become that character on stage.

So, here's what you need to know before you begin. Nathan Lane was born Joseph Lane in Jersey City in 1956. He is the youngest of three children with two much older brothers. And, as far as Nathan can remember, it was a very difficult childhood. His father became an alcoholic and his mother would later suffer from mental illness. But every now and then, Nathan caught a glimpse of the past and how his parents must have been in happier times . You know, when I was a kid, my dad was a truck driver and he did n't drink at all.

And my mother and my mother never drank. But as I got older, his eyesight worsened and he didn't want to drive a truck anymore. And some family connection landed him a job in the city, as a court clerk. So, I believe it was around that time that he started drinking. I don't have many strong memories of them as a couple. There was something I talked about, which was at a family gathering, an end-of-year party. They were playing records and suddenly my uncle, my mother's brother, said: " Why don't you get up and dance like before?".

I was surprised, and they hesitated to do it. They stood up and danced the Peabody, which is a rather complicated dance. It was beautiful how in sync they were, kind of laughing and having fun. And, um, and I thought, how extraordinary this is happening, and this side of them that I had never seen, and how in sync they were when they danced for those few minutes, and how out of sync they were as a couple and as husband and wife and their parents, and, uh, so this is, it's very, it's kind of a happy and sad moment, uh, to remember.

Hmm, but there are many of those. But they, um, so my father, yes, became an alcoholic and my mother had to become the breadwinner and she got a job as a secretary in the prosecutor's office in Jersey City. And then she was, you know, raising three children alone. Hmm , she had me very late in life. She was about 40 years old. It was a surprise. Um, so it's, um, I mean, look, all of us, what is this? What is that? Hmm, Frank McCort, Angela's Ashes, you know, what's that about Irish childhoods?

Hmm, and it was quite an Irish childhood, wasn't it? His grandparents were immigrants. Both of his parents were children of Irish immigrants, I think. Yes. Yes. Both sides of the family. And yes, I discovered all of this by discovering its roots. Yes. They managed to trace my family back 200 years, although it wasn't very interesting. They were all very poor tenant farmers . On my father's side, they didn't own any farms, but on my mother's side, there was some property. Yes, it was a long and sad story.

Nathan, you grew up...when you were growing up in Jersey City, I imagine most of the people around you were from different ethnic backgrounds: Irish, Jewish, Italian, which definitely, of course, had an impact on the roles you would play and how you would kind of draw on your own experience in those characters. Hmm, in your family, was being Irish very prevalent? Was this something you were aware of? Was it part of your family life and the culture you were part of? Hmm, yes. I mean, not openly, there wasn't , um, I mean, you know , St.

Patrick's Day, and there were, you know, we weren't, you know, Irish Catholics. Hmm, I knew it, you know, I was very fond of Jackie Gleason as a child and kind of fascinated by him and his story and that he was an Irish Catholic and a self-made man. Hmm, but um, yes, I mean , it certainly was, it was a sense of humor. It's a dark, self-deprecating, and, um, on some days cynical sense of humor. Yes, a sense of humor, but it certainly influenced that and, of course, you know, Catholicism was, you know, based on fear.

Yes. So we all lived with fear and guilt. Yes. Um, you know, because of the Dominican nuns, who were an elite task force made up of really brutal women who taught the famous Baltimore catechism when you were seven years old, and they had to memorize the questions and answers about theology, God, and why God made you, and then repeat them. He was like Manurion's candidate for seven-year-olds. You decorated things and then regurgitated them for those women. One nun in particular would, like, walk down the hallways of the classroom and then spin around like a James Bond villain, slam her hand on the table and yell, "Why did God make you?" And you know, it's a question I still ask myself to this day.

Yes. And then, there was this thing that I ended up abandoning. Yes. Did you know that when he was a child his father had ambitions to be a singer, because he was kind of an amateur singer himself, right? I think it was mostly family folklore, and how much of it was apocryphal. I have no idea how much actually happened. Did you hear him sing? I ca n't remember. He was, you know, as a child, he was rarely sober. There were times when my mother took him to Alcoholics Anonymous and he stopped and...I remember my mother telling me, "Well, when he was sober, you would have liked to be by his side." You always followed him and held his hand, and you know, it was, um...

And I can also remember him telling me, in one of those sober moments, um, I remember it was very cold in the apartment and we were sitting in front of the heater, and he said to me: "You know, your mother and I aren't going to be here forever." You're going to have to learn to take care of yourself. "I think I was about nine years old. Wow. And I was like, you know, and it was really boring. And I basically kept saying, why are you telling me this?

Um, so, um, sorry, what was the question? Yes. Have you ever heard him sing? Oh, have I ever heard him sing? Not that I remember. Yes. Um, but you know, he... Yes. They said he had a beautiful Irish tenor voice and that a Hollywood talent scout saw him and wanted to take him to Los Angeles, but his mother said no . So, I don't know if I would believe that or not, but that's what I was told. You, I know you had older brothers, um, and one of your brothers, Dan, um, in particular, who you were very close to and still are close to, kind of introduced you to theatre.

They were much older because you were, as you said, your mother was 40 when you were born, so you were really the baby. Well, I wasn't almost 40, but my mother was. Your mother was almost 40." Yes. Yes. Um, although Paul Running said I was born divorced at 40. Um, how do you...how do you remember managing...I mean, the story I heard is that, you know, in 1967, your brother took you to your first show, your first Broadway show. Um, it was...it was a dark comedy show.

Um, I mean, is that true? Like, you went to the show and were like, "Wow, what is this?" This is kind of mine...these are my people . "This is my world." Was it really that sophisticated, or not? Right. These are my people. I was fascinated and a little scared, and this whole thing of the lights going out and the curtain rising and it...it seemed kind of magical. And, yes, there was a primal notion of: "Ah, I wish I could... I think I could do that." I would like to do that, or at least I would like to if I were good at it .

It was. But you liked watching it. Of course. You love it. Of course. Oh yes. Yes. Um, you know, before that, he had volunteered me for a play that was being done at his college and they needed a child, and that's how it all started. Before even taking me to the sets, he put me in one. A play by Frank Gilroy, the author of The Subject Was Roses, called Who Save the Plowboy ? Hmm, I don't think so. I don't know if it made it to Broadway or not, but in the second act, there was a child, and so I made my stage debut in that play at what was known as Jersey City State College, and, um, I was about 10 years old, maybe.

Honestly, I don't remember, but he ... Yes. And I was very upset when they would n't let me go to the cast party on opening night. I was upset because you were a child and stormed out of the house thinking, "Why can't I go to the party?" I know you were really interested in theater in high school. You studied at a Catholic school. At St. Peters Prep, at Jersey High School, right? And you're one of the most famous alumni because they...they talk about you, they're very proud of you.

You were known as Joe Lane there. How do you remember getting involved with theater and drama in school? I'm sure there were other kids who liked sports, or maybe the student council, or something like that. What I mean is that, obviously, you were exposed to theater when you were young. His brother took him to see a show. Yes. He was kind of interested. And I had done plays in elementary school, as well as in my college debut. I was on the "Around the World in 80 Days" program in elementary school.

So, yes, it seemed like something natural. I'm sure it was also an escape. It was, uh, uh, but, uh, yeah, they did like two plays a year, if I remember correctly, at St. Peter's Prep. And, uh , so, there was this guy, Kibler, who was the first guy. And he was, uh, he ran, he was kind of, he was a married guy. He was, uh, uh, what was his first name? I can't remember Mr. Kibler, but he was very muscular, ripped, like he'd been a gymnast or something .

I think he also coached the gymnastics team, but he was in charge of the drama group and, uh , he cast me in plays and he thought I was hilarious. So, I thought he was great. Hmm, yes. So, you mean, you were voted the best actor in your school. You were, I mean, people remember you as a talented and charismatic theater actor, and I imagine that I... I mean, just for a moment, I think you know you have this very volatile life, or you know, maybe that's not the right word, but a very difficult family life, right?

Your father passed away when you were a child. Her mother battled mental illness at age 11. And basically, your siblings kind of helped raise you. But every time I see you describe your childhood, it's not with bitterness or sadness. And I wonder if that's how you perceive it. When you think about your childhood, do you think, "Ah, it was a very sad childhood," or do you think, "I did theater and found other ways to cope and overcome it. Everything was fine." I think it's just a family thing.

Do you know what Abraham Lincoln's quote is? If I didn't laugh, I would cry. It's...it's... yes, I mean, it's not worse than many childhoods, and there have certainly been many...worse than mine. But it was, it was, um, and certainly we, I think all three of us Lane boys, you know, we carry some scars from that, you know, that's what we had to deal with , um, while growing up, you know. Yeah, man, you know, it was during that time, when I was in high school, that's when, uh , my mom...uh, my grandma, my mom's mom, passed away, and she left my dad, uh, finally, uh, and we moved and, like, for another month he stayed in the apartment and he, he drank himself to death, basically.

Then he died, and my grandmother died first; my grandmother died, and then he died. And the combination of all of that really hit my mother very hard. And so, for a long time, they couldn't, they didn't even know how to diagnose what was happening, other than that it was some kind of mental breakdown. She had an overactive thyroid, someone said. And then, eventually, it was diagnosed as what they used to call manic-depressive disorder, and now bipolar disorder. But she, uh, and then, eventually, she started taking lithium and that helped her a lot.

But, uh, it was difficult to live with that when she was in high school because there were periods when she would be depressed for a long period of time. Yes. And she would sit in a bathrobe all day and do nothing, and she had suicidal tendencies. We, uh, and then she would go to a psychiatric hospital, and then she would get out, and then she would become very manic and buy things when she didn't have money, just charge for things and, uh, yeah, she was...she was very crazy.

And then she got very paranoid and, uh, I remember, this was all during Watergate, and she was saying, you know, Nixon wasn't the president. They are all lying to us. I said, "Well, they may be lying to us, but unfortunately he is the president." Hmm, so there was... Yeah, I mean, we could do a whole podcast just about that. You could eventually, you know, uh uh um, after a period of about 5 years during high school, she was finally diagnosed with bipolar disorder and put on lithium.

So, I mean, it seems like theater. I mean, the long hours you'd probably spend preparing and rehearsing for plays in high school basically kept you out of the house. I mean, you wouldn't want to be in a house with, presumably, a mother who went through that as a teenager . I...I mean, I...I had to be there. At some point, my two brothers got married, and it was just my mother and me. So, I had to... You know, I cooked. Yes. And you know, I took care of the apartment and...Yes.

I had to grow up very fast. So, but I'm sure ... I mean, you know, acting in plays was also a social thing. Hmm...and it was also an outlet for what was going on inside me. Do you remember when you were in high school? I was looking for love, man. Just a little bit of love. Do you remember someone in high school telling you, " Nathan, I think you should pursue a career in this field?" You 're not just good, you're very good. You think: Did you see that kid over there playing basketball?

He's going to college to play basketball. Like, you 're really good at this. You should do this professionally. Has anyone ever told you that? I'm sure someone said it. Hmm, I'm not sure. Have you ever felt that way? Did you have to eat? There was a guy named Jack Casey who took over, he was an incredible chain smoker. This is happening now, after 47 years. I realized he lived with his mother. He was probably a repressed homosexual, a complete alcoholic, and very nervous. He was very nervous.

This guy needed to get laid. And he may have said that. Hmm, I'm sure, my brother Danny, you know, has always been very encouraging. I mean, he forced me to do it. He forced me to go to the theater. Yes. Hmm, I think after they tried, my two brothers tried to get me interested in sports and we realized it was n't going anywhere. We were playing soccer and I finally stopped and told them, "You know, I 'm not a sportsman." I think I told them, "Hmm, so yeah, it's...

I'm sure, I'm sure, and inside I said that I think maybe I can do it." Did you feel confident on stage? I mean, when you said you felt that maybe I could do it. Did you feel it? Well, it was like an adrenaline rush. She was like a heroine. It was like, I don't know. Something happened, a connection with the audience, and there was a freedom that I hadn't had in life, and in many ways, I felt more comfortable on stage, I think because I was in control.

Do you remember? I mean, you remember why you didn't do it for various reasons; you ended up not going to college, largely because you didn't have the money to pay the tuition. Yes. But did you already know when you were 18 that this was what you wanted to pursue professionally as an actor? Well, you know, it was this weird story about when my brother Danny took me to this... I had this, uh, St. Joseph's College in Philadelphia, and I had auditioned for them and gotten a scholarship for theater.

And then, when we got there, they said, uh, and I had a government loan and a student loan, and they, they said, "Oh, I still owed more money," and I would have to take out another loan. And that's when I said to my brother, "Oh , that's, uh, I was a little, very worried about that," not knowing that Joe Biden would one day forgive all my student loans. If I had known I could have a crystal ball that Joe Biden would solve this, I would have gone to that school.

But instead, he told me, "Well, nobody says you have to go to college right now. You can take a year off, work, earn money, and then go." And then I said, "Okay, let's get out of here." And I returned home to Jersey City, and someone, perhaps with the same family connection, got my father the job as a court clerk, which led him to alcoholism. He got me a job as a bail interviewer at the seventh precinct in Jersey City. Perfect job, right? Perfect job. And anyone who was arrested was brought to me, and I had to fill out the paperwork for the court clerk to check and determine if they could be released on their own accord.

So, I only did that for, you know, a few months, and then there was this small non-profit theatre company, uh, what was its name? A Half Penny Playhouse, which had a small resident theater at Absala College in East Orange, New Jersey. And I had worked for them one summer, and they were putting together a musical revue about the history of New Jersey called Jurers, which would tour the schools. All this in preparation for the next birthday. And so that's it, and you , that is, I was working for them after I left the seventh precinct.

Ah, good move, don't you think? Well, I think so. And I made a little money, and it was quite an experience. But you were still, I mean, you know, probably at that point you weren't making much money, but you were on the other side of the river from New York. I mean, you 're in Jersey, you know, you're still in Jersey City, even now. Yes. And, um, and the center of the theater world. Hmm, I think understandably, you moved to New York, you know, when you were in your early twenties , or maybe, yeah, maybe 20, 21, and I think one of the things you did for a living was sing, like singing telegrams, which I don't know if they exist much nowadays, but it was a very important thing back then , like, you'd knock on someone's door.

You'd like to sing, wouldn't you? Yes, unfortunately I would sing, um, yes , birthday greetings to William Tel Overure for William, like, yes, it's your day, your yesterday has arrived, so we're sending you some music, yes, sing this, uh , yes, why did they think it had to be in the public domain? I don't know who would check if you're in an office building. I mean , imagine if people were feeling cool. I mean , right. Yes. Yes. Go ahead. I am really sorry. Go ahead.

I said, "Imagine if people had iPhones back then. They could film you and then say that young Nathan Lane was my singing telegram." Yes. Oh, man. And yes. And they gave you an ugly tuxedo and a felt top hat that wasn't big enough. And, um, I always say that I, um, um, uh, telegram, I, birthday telegram, I delivered to Sam, young Sam Watson, whom I, I loved as an actor. So I went there, there was an apartment, I don't know if it was his apartment or not, but they were having a birthday party for him.

And, and, um, you , you know, you lived off tips, of course, and, uh, but he was quite generous. I think he thought, "This is so sad." Here 's a hardworking actor having to sing telegrams. "And I just remember that he was very, very kind and generous. Wow. Have you ever told him that story ? I, I never, uh, I don't think I ever met Sam. I never worked with him, but it's... Yes, it's true. He was lovely to me many years ago. It's an important lesson for all of us to remember, because someone can be nice to someone and in 20 years that person will say, 'Nathan Lane gave me a $20 bill just through the door.' I'm not going to talk about why I gave him a $20 bill, but I wasn't singing.

Hey, goodnight. Is this where I storm out and go to the bathroom? Wasn't that what you said could happen? We... I could do anything I wanted. Absolutely. Absolutely. If you could. Yes. When you were ... I mean, when you were starting out, right, and that's kind of normal, right? You were doing workshops and trying, you know, to get roles here and there, but remember feeling frustrated about not getting bigger roles or not being able to break into the market or Did God know? No. No. And for some reason, I don't know why, especially coming from that chaotic family, I always thought it would work out and that I would have to go through this period of struggle.

I went through a long period of struggle. When I moved to New York, I worked a lot, besides the Half Penney Playhouse. I worked a lot in non- profit theater, and through that theater, I got my acting card doing a musical about the metric system called One for Good Measure. When I got the card, I stopped working. I couldn't get acting jobs. What saved me was doing commercials. I did a lot of commercials and then I started doing little things off-Broadway, little reviews here and there, and that led me to work with another actor and we put together a number.

We were a comedy duo, which led me to go to Los Angeles. This is Patrick Stack. Patrick Stack. My great friend Patrick Stack to this day. And, um, so, it was another way to get in and, suddenly, for a short period of time, we had some success and we signed with William Morris, we had a manager in Beverly Hills and we went. We went to Los Angeles and performed at the Comedy Store. And there's a video of you two performing that you can see on YouTube.

I watched it. Um, was that on the MV Griffin show? It was on Norm Crosby's Comedy Show. Yes, of course. It was good . It was nice. It was very funny. I do n't know. Um, I think some of those jokes you can't tell nowadays for various reasons. Yes. I don't really know what we could do on television. We used to do a skit about two guys in a singles bar, and one of them, I was kind of inept at meeting women, and then my partner, who was a big, tall, handsome guy, would say, "If all else fails, you..." and put a cucumber in his pants.

He had a huge cucumber. He said to stuff it in his pants and dance slowly and things would change. And then we did a whole physical comedy with me trying to put this cucumber in my pants, which are very baggy, and it would slip and look like it was too big. So anyway, I remember we did a character called Reverend Billy [ __ ], based on Ernest Angley, the healer. Reverend Billy [ __ ]. Um, yeah. What ? Anything? What? I'm trying to think of what wouldn't work now?

Probably everything. Yeah. No, I mean, it was all very funny. Just, you know, jokes. I think probably, like, jokes about, like, and then, like, my wife died in the fire and then, you know, something like laughing. Yeah. Oh. Oh, that's it, you know, it's like some things we used to do. There was an old vaudeville thing. We... It was an example of... We used to talk about it and do this thing. Two guys meeting. This is good. This is bad. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. No, I know.

It was literally an old vaudeville thing. Um, but you... you think... I mean, kind of getting off the stage and doing this comedy duo that you guys went through? Um, I mean, you think maybe that's the direction I'm going to go in? Maybe, maybe, you know, maybe I'm not a theatre actor. Maybe I'll get into comedy. No. No. No. It was just a means to an end. It was a very liberating learning experience . It was a...um, a way to, um, um, you know, have a product that we could take around, because, you know , as an actor, you just depended on being cast.

And this was something, it was our "us," that's how I started as a writer. And then, um, um, we , um, and then I...um, oh, there's someone at my window here. Yes. Um, someone you know, I hope. Yes. Um, no, no, no. They're just dealing with, um, we had the house painted and then the windows were painted to close them. So, we're opening them. Without painting. We're dealing with it. So, anyway, um, yes, comedy. No, I never thought, I never thought we'd become the next Nichols in May.

It was, you know, it was, um, I hoped it would lead to other work. As actors, none of us thought, "This is, oh, this is our ultimate goal ." But it's interesting, I mean, if you knew yourself, because it seems like you knew from the beginning, when you were in New York, that you were going to have to go through a period of struggle, that you were going to have to fight your way through and do workshops and maybe small roles here and there, but that you weren't worried about what would happen in the future, that you always knew it would work out somehow .

Yeah. I don't know why. It's not the power of positive thinking. Um, it was just an instinct that told me it would work out. I, you know, whatever struggles I had to go through , I always knew it would work out. And I don't know why, believing in myself or believing in my talent or just, you know, I would kind of look at it like it was a movie and think that this is like the beginning of the movie and that eventually things would work out .

Do you remember feeling like that , that, my, because that's an important point you're raising and I, I'll give my perspective in a At that moment, you remember thinking, "This is the part of my life story where this happens, and this should happen, and so it will eventually happen." " Yes. Yes. Yes. You know, I kind of thought it was like a little fantasy. It's like I was in the movie of my life and this is the initial part. No, I mean, it's so interesting that you say that because there are literally, you know, books about this and about how to think about your life, especially in challenging times, which is kind of detaching yourself from the moment and observing yourself almost as if you were Joan Didi writing about yourself or something.

You know, that period of struggle can often be very lonely and depressing because you don't know that there's so much uncertainty. You don't know if you're going to make it. You don't know if anyone is going to give you an opportunity. Um, but you seem to be okay with that uncertainty. You seem to be okay with that. Yes. Well, well, my family life was uncertain. And um, and you know, when I got into show business, nobody in my family said, you know, it wasn't that old classic story of you stepping over my dead body and pursuing that horrible profession.

It was like, yeah, yeah, make some money. Give us some. Um, so yeah, it wasn't that different. It was It's like there's so much uncertainty, but that's all they tell you. But it was what I loved to do. It was what gave me satisfaction , and for some reason, I was, you know, a young struggler. I was out there pushing myself, and, you know, suddenly I was doing stand-up comedy for 20 minutes, and yeah, and it was a really great learning experience, and then, you know, that helped me when finally what brought me back to New York was doing this terrible little sitcom with Mickey Rooney and Dana Carvey, and, you know, they...

One of the guys... One of the guys, uh, with, and, and we, um , you know, they wanted when I auditioned, you know, if you could improvise, and then, um, after having that comedy experience, it was incredibly helpful to me. And, um, and then, yeah, that brought me back to New York, uh, and, you know, I knew it was n't going to last, with all the uncertainty in show business, I knew it wasn't going to last. And then, um, I ended up auditioning for, Um, that revival of Present Laughter on Circle in the Square that George C.

Scott was directing and starring in. I want to ask you about that, but before we get there, um, I should mention that that show, one of the boys, which I think only had a few episodes, also included 13, also included young Dana Carvey and Meg Ryan, and Nathan Lane. So, some big stars. Scatman crs. Scatman crs. I didn't know that. Um, but you know, you didn't have the money to go to conservatory or, you know, to do that kind of work. And really, it seems like you kind of made it for yourself by doing workshops and then doing comedy, because I imagine, as you said, you had to learn to improvise, right?

You had to learn to be quick. Well, I never...No, I mean, I never really...I was just quick. I...I was never really an improviser in that sense and...Yeah . And in the second town kind of way, but... You know, sometimes it's more about writing skills. And...Yeah, I went to a summer session at the studio. Stella Adler, and it wasn't... It wasn't Stella. It was her cousin Pearl, you know, and at the time I was a little too abstract for myself. I was very sentimental, looking out the window and then coming back and describing what I saw.

And they were like, "Oh, I saw a cloud that looked like my grandmother's face with tears falling, you know, and there was all sorts of stuff." I saw a homeless woman and it reminded me, you know, and she said to me, "What do you see? What did you see, Nathan?" I said, "I see 400 dollars going down the drain." "Um, and then I studied with a woman called Joan Bell, uh, who had studied with, who did she study with? Um, I don't know. She had studied with someone good and had a little acting class and she was incredibly helpful to me and then the rest was just experience, which I think is, ultimately, the best teacher and working with good people.

Did you want to be a comedy actor? I meant, obviously, that's what you became. I mean, you do dramatic roles later, but did you want to, did you feel that's where your talent lay? Well, sure. Yes. I mean, I just wanted to work, you know, it wasn't about what kind of roles, yeah. But obviously, that's my gift, I had a gift for comedy and that's where I excelled and also in occasional musicals. Um, you made your Broadway debut in 1982, a play called Present Laughter alongside George C.

Scott. Which I think was, like, am I wrong to say he was one of your idols? Sure. I mean, the People don't... I'd venture to say that many people don't remember him, but he was an extraordinary film actor and , actually, more of a theatre actor. He was famous in the early days of the Public Theatre, he did an incredible Shillock in the Park; he was, um, you know, he had an incredible range and he's just, you know, a great character actor, a star who was also incredibly self-destructive, an alcoholic, you know, right, that was my kind of thing .

I totally understood him. And he was very, um, he was very kind to me. Um, I'm sure Ava Gardner had a different story, but he was incredibly kind and paternal to me, interestingly enough. And, um, you know, and the whole experience was, you know, look: after the first reading, he famously said: "I always laugh at these things, and people say, 'Why are you laughing?'" "And he said, 'You know what I like about this cast?'" Without any hangers-on, that's just how he is. And Dana Ivy, who was sitting next to me, turned to me and said, "I'm sure he meant it in a nice way," and that's how a friendship was born.

Hmm, but he, you know, despite all his, you know, crazy conservative right-wing stuff, and problems, he was, I mean, he was an electric actor to be on stage and he was, he was equally adept at comedy and drama. And then he was hilarious. An obviously unexpected choice for the role of a cowardly nobody , he was more like John Barrymore in Present Laughter, but he was hilarious and had no problem with anything he said, he totally had a sense of exaggeration. Gary Asendine had a minty touch and was a really great comedic performer, and uh, and then I worked with him like nine years later.

We did, he wanted to do, uh, this Paul Osborne play on borrowed time, which was a pretty corny play, but he played a lovely old grandfather and I was the angel of death, Mr. Brink. Yes, you know, he had his problems, of course, but I loved him and was always very grateful to him for his support and for giving me this opportunity. Do you remember any... You were 26 years old when you made your Broadway debut alongside George C. Scott. I mean, he was a legend.

I mean, he won an Oscar. He was in... He refused, but yes. Yes. Doctor Strange, Love, A Christmas Carol. I mean, the guy is legendary in film and on stage. Were you nervous being next to someone like that? Do you remember? Of course. He was terrifying. We were all scared to death of him. He was, you know, an intimidating figure. He was a huge guy. Yes. And the good news is that when we did that show, he made a bet with the producers, Paul Libbit and Ted Man, that he would bet on it.

They said, " We're betting with you." It's impossible to stay sober for three months. That's what he did, and they knew what they were doing. After about three months, the play premiered and was a great success. A few months later, he turned to me after a Sunday matinee and said, "That's it, I won the bet, now I'm going to get drunk." I did n't know what he was talking about. Then he was gone for a week and the whole cast called him and left a message saying, "George, please come back." We're having a huge success, a star vehicle without the star, and people aren't showing up.

Please come back. He returned and behaved well for the rest of the season. Nathan, I think in that play—I mean, you're 26, making your Broadway debut, you're alongside George C. Gott—and there was a review of that play in the New Yorker, and there's a line—and I know you know this line—that the critic writes about Brendan Gil, " He's dead now," grotesquely amateurish, that must have happened, right? He said that I thought he meant I was a high-level amateur who should never be allowed on stage, not that intense.

He said that his performance seemed grotesquely amateurish to him, and that is, I mean, you know, it must have been a blow to his confidence, or how do you remember reacting to that? Was it kind of devastating, or did you just say " screw that guy" or something like that, "I'm going to keep fighting"? I remember years later attending a seminar at the American Theater Wing, and he was the moderator, and he told me he was a big fan. Wow. The critic. Yes. Brendan Gil. Hmm, look, you have to understand, we were doing an old Coward play, but George's vision for that particular character was: "I want you to be like an insane, obsessive fan of, you know, so do crazy things, you know, walk on the furniture, do whatever you want." Yes.

So, you know, I did some weird things and, um, um, did you care? So, as some people would politely call it, a courageous performance, because I only accepted it because it was George C. Scott. I would have done anything he asked. So he wanted me to, you know, do things and take risks and do more than just , oh, he's kind of obsessed, just obsessed. He wanted to be a little more dangerous. So, I mean, let me tell you, um, we laughed a lot. George and I laughed a lot, as a team.

Hmm, so I, you know, I seemed to be a hit with the audience. Hmm, but yeah, I'm sure for some critics it was, you know, I think Frank Rich said I was both a success and a failure. You know how it is? Yes. I remember standing on the corner of 44th Street and 9th Avenue holding the New York Times with some friends, reading Frank Rich's review which said it was a successful performance, and I was, you know, depressed because it was my Broadway debut. But, you know, now Frank Rich is a friend and a great writer.

Yes. So, you know, I...Yes. Yes of course . Of course. You know, it happened, you know, yes. You know, Frank Rich ruined several of my nights. How do you... Here's my question about this regarding criticism, because the overwhelming response throughout your career has been positive, right? Overwhelmingly positive, both from the public and critics. Are you the kind of person who absorbs that and truly appreciates it, or are you the kind of person who tends to focus on that negative criticism? Ah, the negative. That's what everyone ...no matter what anyone might tell you.

Ah, I went to therapy and I don't read reviews, and they're all full of crap. That's what happens if there's someone...if the audience is rolling down the aisles, but there's a guy looking at you and you're trying to figure out why he's not laughing. There is negative criticism. Do you remember all the negative reviews? While the response to me was overwhelmingly positive, I don't remember any of it. All I remember are the bad ones. Those in which they said, "You know, that man should be arrested." There must be...

what's his name? Robert Brewstein, that keg of laughs. He once said something about me , about my performance in Love, Valor, Compassion. He said, "Nathan Lane is an irresistible force that must be repressed by force," which was at least witty. Have you ever read reviews and said, "Okay , I'll use this to become better"? Or did they simply make you angry? There have been critical reviews and you thought, "Okay, that's fair. Maybe I'll think about it." Well, you start to ... I mean, in general, you can read various reviews and maybe there's a kind of consensus that might make sense or might make you hesitate, but most of the time, it doesn't.

The thing is, first of all, I've outlived a lot of these guys. I survived many of them . And they, you know, you have you, even if you don't know them personally, especially when they 're writing, you know, there's a relationship that develops, they have...and some people like you, some people hate you and then kind of come to like you. Some people love you and then come to hate you. They are them, they are human beings. They're just human beings who didn't receive enough love in their lives and lacked the talent to pursue the profession, so they go around telling you what you're doing wrong.

So, you know, some of them are...there was the day of the gentleman critic, and you know, and there were...and they just pointed things out, and now it's all become very personal. And I, I, I, you know, went to see the show with my, you know, my friend or my cat or whatever . You're like, what? I don't want to hear about you. I want to hear about the night. Anyway, everything changed and then it became very unpleasant, mean and sarcastic and you know, so you know, I don't know, I haven't been on stage for about four years.

I'm going to do something in January of next year . So, it's like I don't know anyone else who's writing reviews, or like everything is new to me. Hmm, but once, something had an effect, and it was Charles Isherwood, and that was me. I had done, uh, I was doing this Addams Family musical that was panned by critics. You were Gomez, right? Yes. And then the audience didn't care. They liked the brand. They wanted to see it, and then it worked. So I had a, uh, you know, I had a one-year contract.

So, you know, I had a lot of time to think, and during that period, Charles Isherwood wrote a very complimentary article, an assessment of my career, in which he referred to me as, you know, the last of the great stage performers, or the great, the greatest stage performer of the last decade. Yes. And being Irish, I can find a dark cloud in any positive aspect. That's a very good thing to say . The word "artist" got stuck in my throat. They bothered me for some reason.

And I thought: who am I? Damn , Al Jolson, you know? Do I work at children's birthday parties? Am I opening up to Wayne Newton? Screw this. I am an artist. I've been an actor for about 35 years now. So , that, that, that drove me a little crazy, and I, and it made me think, I, I felt like I was at a crossroads, and I, you know, this realization, you know, I, I had, I had mainly done, participated in plays, but, you know, a handful of musicals that were successful, and, and, um , so I had that musical comedy stain that's hard to shake off .

It's as if it gets stuck to you like a bad suit. And I wondered if I could change that perception, even if only a little. And I, I thought I had to challenge myself . I had to scare myself again. And I wonder if the audience can challenge that as well. Would they accompany me on this kind of exploratory journey? And then, literally around the same time, I read an interview with Bob Falls, whom I just paid tribute to in Chicago. He is leaving the Goodman Theater after 35 years.

The great Bob Falls and my late, great friend Brian Denah, in which they discussed their legendary collaborations in Chicago theater, some of which made it to New York, such as Death of a Salesman and The Longest Ride. So, they were talking about perhaps revisiting Iceman Cometh, which they did very successfully in 1990 in Chicago, when Brian played Hickey. And now, in a new production, he would play Larry Slade. And they suggested an actor, a very respected actor, who could play Hickey in that production. And I'm not going to say who it was, because you'll think, "Oh, what a shame.

He did n't do that." And then I thought, " He doesn't need that." You know, I need this. I need to shake things up . And what could shake things up more than the Iceman showing up, you know, when he walks through the door? The first thing you think is that he probably just killed his wife. And you know, I thought that when you read O'Neal's overly descriptive descriptions of the characters, you know, I thought it sounded like me, and what if we tried to follow that?

Yes. You know, I thought so, didn't I? It would be an interesting dynamic if, uh, because the audience feels that way. It seems the same way the guys at the bar feel about Hickey. He's here to entertain us, and then we pull the rug out from under them. It's an interesting starting point , and then, you know, as things unfold and become a little more malevolent, emotional, and angry, you know, it becomes a bigger surprise in what , you know, has to be the most obvious murder mystery in history .

Hmm, so that's what I wrote to Bob Falls. I received his email and sent this email back, you know, we did n't know each other very well. We met briefly once and I sent him an email suggesting all these reasons why I should play Hickey and if they did , I hoped he would consider me. And then I went a while without hearing from him and I thought, "Oh, I overreacted. You know, he probably got a restraining order and I should just put on a show and forget about this crazy [ __ ]." But then he said he wanted to sit down and talk about it.

He said there were no production plans, but if I was interested in doing it with him and Brian, then we would try to work it out. And that's what led me to go to Chicago to do Iceman and play Hickey. And it was a life-changing experience . And that was right after The Addams Family. Practically. Yes. Wow. And you feel you needed to do this because it was triggered in part by this perception you felt was around you that you were an artist. I just felt like I had to...

I don't mind being funny. No. But I felt I had more to offer as an actor and that I was primarily an actor. Yes. I'm funny on talk shows. Yes, I am, you know, I'm good at comedy, but you know, I think if someone wasn't like that, they should be, but if someone was paying attention and had seen me in the works of Terrence McN or John Robin Bates or Simon Gray or, uh, you know, uh, we did the first revival of Waiting for God on Broadway with Bill Irwin.

You know, it's not like I'm just taking a break. Hmm, there was a lot of variety. So, uh, but what people remember are the big hits like Guys and Dolls, Funny Thing Happened on Way to the Forum, The Producers, and The Bird Cage. So I felt I needed to, I just needed to shake things up personally. You know, whether anyone would recognize that was another question. And by some miracle, over a period of time from that moment in Chicago doing Iceman until today, there has been a change, a slight change.

So, when we got to Angels, someone asking me to play Roy Conn and Angels in America at the National Theater, it wasn't, it wasn't like, uh, a shock. Or, as someone in the New York Times said when I was about to play Hickey Iceman in Chicago, that he thought he was reading a headline from The Onion. Okay. Okay. Because Roy Conn was obviously not a funny role. Ah, oh, him...I disagree. Roy Con is a very funny character, but he's also , you know, evil personified. Yes.

You know, he's a complicated guy. I, you know, I practically monopolized the market for bad, complicated, charming, and evil people. Yes, I 'm good at this. Hmm, I want to ask you about that role in a moment, but first I want to ask you about Terrence McN because he was a very important collaborator. Hmm, and this is the story I heard, and I don't know if it's true, but you were performing at a show , um, in New York, and it was okay. It wasn't well received, and Frankie and Johnny was also playing at the same theater, and you were kind of sitting on the steps outside at the end of the night, one night .

No, that was in the afternoon. This happened in Manhattan. I was in the lobby of the Manhattan Theater Club. Yes. And we had just been through there with this piece and Clap Trap, right? Well, yes. I didn't... The author asked me not to make any more references to her. Sorry. Okay. But we were making this piece. Things weren't going very well. And at one point the director said, "You know what? I think the problem is that the lights are too bright." And I said, "Yes, yes, I think that's the problem.

They can see the piece." So they asked for a five-minute break and I went outside. I was sitting on the steps of the lobby of the Manhattan Theater Club in City Center and, yes, Terren's play, Frankie and Johnny, was playing in the smaller theater next door, with Murray Abraham and Kathy Bates, and it was a huge hit. I had my head in my hands when a very kind gentleman came up to me and said, "Hi, I'm Terrence McN." I know you're having some problems with your show, but you know, I just wanted to tell you that I'm a big fan and I hope we can work together someday.

Wow. And you've never met him before. No. Wow. No. But of course you knew who he was. I mean, he's a legend. Ah, sure. Of course. Yes. And um, so what year was that? And then a few years later, two years later, I was doing La Traviata in Lisbon at the same theater where it was n't going so well. Yes. Hmm, changing that again. Another life-changing experience. In a sort of fundamental way, I mean , he saw you almost as a muse. Well, I think you know that he...Yes.

He said that once, but I, you know, I think he had many muses, and he was, and he really was my muse. But he, you know, there was an instant chemistry and understanding; I understood his writing, and, you know, he always said, "Oh, we, you know, never need to discuss anything because, which isn't exactly true, but you know, we never... I don't need to tell them, ' That's what I meant' or 'how to interpret something.' He understands, uh, naturally what to do and, and, and also, he simply wrote it , you know, uh, they, for some reason, were having trouble casting that role in La Traviata in Lisbon.

Um, which was shocking to me. Um, and the role you played was Mendy Mendy. Yes, Mendy. Wage. Well, I shouldn't say. Well, it's based on a man named Mendy Wager, Michael Wager, uh, who was an actor and a friend of, and for, opera-obsessed people. And for people who don't know the play, he's like an obsessive Maria Kowas . He's an extravagant, flamboyant character. Yes. Yes. Although he didn't like being accused of that. Sorry. Oh, but yes, I once met The real Mendy was at a party at Betty Comden's apartment, a Christmas party, and he came up to me and said, "Hi, Nath." He had a very deep voice.

He was the voice of the Met for years. This is Michael Wager from PBS. And he came up to me and said, "Hi, Nathan." "I'm the real Mendy." I was like, "Oh, yeah." I said, "Well , it's so nice to meet you." I wanted to say that I have to thank you for inspiring me into one of the best roles I've ever had. And he said, " Well, it was a very painful experience for me." So, you know, because originally, when he first wrote the play , I don't think I ever talked about this, but when he first wrote the play, they hired Mendy to play Mendy.

Wow. And then they realized he wasn't the best actor, but they didn't fire him until the end of the week because he was the only one who had a recording of Zepharelli in a documentary talking about Kalis, and they wanted to get it from him. So they did, and they fired him. So yes, the production, you know, they did it off-Broadway and then they were, you know, and then they were doing it at the Manhattan Theater Club, where he established a relationship with the theater and with It's Only a Play.

I believe, you know, your description of going to Chicago and how that kind of helped shape you as an actor. Hmm, everything changed. Yes. And I think the way I approached the work and how everything was, it was truly an incredible experience, and I imagine that working with Terrence McN also had a similar impact on how you saw yourself as an actor. I mean, yes. Well, both he, both he and the director, John Tillinger, um, actually, John Tillinger in particular was the first person who saw me as an actor and not just as a comedian, because Tillinger first cast me in Robbie Bates' first play in New York, The Film Society, which we did at the Second Stage.

And then when Terren's play, Lisman's La Traviata, came along, they wanted a much older man. And then Joey, um, that's what people call him, Joey, John Telinger said what to say about Nathan, and everyone said, oh, he 's too young, but at this point we'll bring him in. And then you know it was Kismmet. But um, but yeah, Terrence and John Tilliger were the only ones who, you know, changed everything. It changed how people looked at me and how things were in the theater, and it was as if I were kind of chasing after La Traviata in Lisbon.

I was taken to the club, and Terrence was incredibly generous. And he had lost Jimmy Koko and Robert Davis, who were collaborators, and he felt he was telling me, "It's like you've come into my life to replace them. And I want to create things for you, roles for you." And it was unbelievable that someone of his stature and talent would say that to a young actor. Yes, it was an incredible moment. Nathan, I want to ask you about how you approach certain roles, and I want to ask about three obvious ones.

These are the roles for which you won Tony Awards. But before I ask about Roy Cohen, I want to ask you about your roles. A funny thing happened on the way to the forum while playing Max Balistock and the producers. What's remarkable is that I know that as a child you really idolized Zero Mastell, and you would relive these two iconic characters that many people would have called Zero Mastell, and that could be that character. I think at some point you even felt that he could only be Max Bealtock, but you not only revived them, you completely reinterpreted those characters and became those characters.

Hmm, tell me, how was your approach to becoming Max Bealtock, for example, when you know that this is an iconic role that has been kind of embodied, personified by this man, and then you take it on and have to reinterpret it, how do you approach that? Well, you know, when it comes to Forum, you know, Forum was written for Phil Silvers. And then he refused because he felt it was too much of what he'd been doing his whole life, you know, essentially playing Sergeant Bilco in ancient Rome.

And then they brought in Milton Burl, who was announced, and that didn't work out. And then, eventually, someone suggested Zero and he obviously made it his own. So, Sudalus is a role that many people have played and can play, and obviously, Zero was brilliant in it. But, um, but actually when Mel Brooks created The Producers, or as it was originally called Spring for Hitler, there was only one person he created, Max Bealisto, around Zero. What if Zero had said no, which I think he initially did, or he, you know, Mel went to Zero's wife, Kate, and said, "Please convince him to do it." And she did.

Hmm, you know, if he hadn't done that, I don't know if there would have been a movie, maybe, but I can't imagine it without him. So, in many ways, when you're doing the musical, and as everyone, you know, comedy aficionados know this, it was a famous cult classic, and you could quote all the dialogue, and you 'd never seen anyone be so big on screen and still be so true. So, in a way, you 're not just playing Max Vialisto , you're playing Zero Mastelle as well.

You have to give it an occasional size. And I mean , it's one of the great comedic plots. I think one of the things was having Mel write everything, writing the book and the soundtrack, that was really crucial for everything to work. And, and, but, but then, and there were, obviously there were the things we all know and love from the film , and some of them worked on stage and some didn't, and also a lot of new material. So, this gave me the opportunity, as an actor, to explore other sides of this character.

Hmm, so, um, you know, the approach is , you know, there was, you know, I knew that. I mean, I always wonder if we should believe Mel when he says he worked for a Broadway producer who was like that, with old ladies who would show up and he'd have sex with them to make money, make money from the play and, you know, make out. The title of the play is Cash. I'm not sure if that actually happened . It's a delightful story. Hmm, Mel worked, young Mel Brooks worked for a Broadway producer, you know, and he used to say he was always wearing an alpaca coat.

Um, um, but yeah, it's an interesting, strange combination of the film and, and, and then, and then, uh, you know, and then The Producers is kind of like The Producers, the musical, it's like a comedy museum and, and it demands a lot from the artists and, and, uh, and, you know, that original company was just, you know, just tremendous. And, you know, it was one of those, it's just one of those times when all the right people were in the right place at the right time, and, you know, it was like a zeitgeist success.

That's exactly what the doctor prescribed in terms of the audience, you know, them; It was just, it was time for, you know, it was a musical comedy with an emphasis on comedy and, and it was, um, yes, it was, um, you know, it's obviously a love story. It's a love story from father to son . Yes. And Bankrooft, I remember him saying to me, "You know, he lost his father when he was only two or three years old or something like that ." And many of his stories are stories about fathers and sons.

He thought it was because of that. And that's what producers do. It's a love story about someone who has never had a friend or doesn't have much fun in life. This young accountant and this totally corrupt and unscrupulous producer see a way out of their desperate situation with this idea. Yes. You know, it's great, it's just one of the best comic stories . We'll put on the most offensive show of all time, and nobody will have to return the money. Yes. It becomes so. Hmm, hmm, so yeah, it's so true, there's no way around you , you know?

You have to do this. Fortunately, there was enough new material that, you know, it's not , you're not doing exactly what Zero did. Yes, yes, but you, there were certainly moments when you had to pay homage to the level of intensity that Zero brought to it. Where do you find out, right before you go on stage, everything's fine, and you have a... I mean, there's a switch that flips on in your head and you're that person, you're Max Bealtock, you're Roy Cohen? So, you have to spend hours before the show, you know, kind of isolated and focused?

How do you do that, because you're Nathan Lane and you're this person that people know, and then you're this other person on stage, so how do you make that transition? Is there some kind of process you go through before you step on stage? Obviously, it depends on what the piece is. You know, if you're going in as Hickey at a bar, it's after they've been on stage for an hour, there's... There's a lot of preparation involved in that. Hmm , and get into the right frame of mind .

But, you know, there's a great thing that happens in the theater, where everyone is involved and, you know, the audience, we're all there. Let's go somewhere together. We all make this agreement, and it's all about our imagination. Yes. I, you know , Wal, Walter Matau, Richard Benjamin once told me that they were making a film where they were doctors and he had done a lot of research, and he said to Walter: "He did a lot of research for the film?" And he said, "No," he said, "No, the audience knows I'm not a doctor.

They simply accept it because I'm wearing a white coat and I'm a doctor. I don't need to do research. I just deliver the lines." Hmm, but you know , it's about the material, and there are certainties that each one is different. Um, you know, I...I, you know, in Angels in America, I always panicked because that opening scene is so difficult and you're, you know, you're balancing all these phone calls and there's a lot of physical business with the phones and the buttons to push and you're doing it for...but you're doing all this for the benefit of this young man that you want to impress with your power and you're trying to draw him into your world.

So that's what you focus on. Hmm, what does the guy want? What does he need to accomplish in this scene? What is that? It's a matter of moment to moment. It's about being present. It's not that you can't walk into a chamber and magically become Roy Conn. But you...do those things he's trying to do. There are actions and objectives, and you do all of that. And slowly but surely, you know, uh, there you have it, you know, like Judy Dench, who once played Cleopatra for uh, Sir Peter Hall, and was kind of saying, "I ca n't, I'm not, I'm not, I'm so badly cast, and he was like, how am I going to do this?" And he said: you don't need to show everything in the first scene.

You show them a little bit, and show them a little bit here, and by the end of the night they will have seen Cleopatra. Hmm, so, you know, that's how it is. You're not going to go out and show everything right away. You know, and honestly, it depends on the role, the material, and how you fit into the machine, what role you play in it, and, I mean, there were moments in Iceman, you know, when you 're in the fourth act, that's what separates the men from the boys.

Just when you think the show is over, he tells his life story for 30 minutes and goes a little crazy. Hmm, you know, there were times when it felt like I was hallucinating. Because I, you know, because it's a very...it's a conversation, but it's mainly a one-sided conversation; Yes, yes, but you 're trying to convince a group of people that what you did was right. The fact that you murdered your wife was out of love for her in a strange way. And yes, there are moments when, those moments when you, when the audience is breathing as one, when there's that kind of silence that you only hear in the theater, where you know, you can hear, as they say, a pin drop and...

And that's the fascination, that's the drug that makes you come back, because not every night is like this . Well, it's not always like that. And sometimes it's a bit more technical, and you know there are times when you know you have to leave everything behind. There are times when you don't want to be there or you're tired. Sometimes, those are the best presentations, when you're tired and thinking, "I don't know, I can't do this again, " you know? And so, it's also about their participation.

How engaged will the audience be? And if they're with you, you can do anything. They'll lift you up, and you can do it; you're not tired at all . It's that kind of thing, you know, there's a great interview, a great documentary about O'Neal, and at the end they're interviewing Jason Roarts, who is the gold standard; And he talks about O'Neal and says, "If you give him your best all the time, it'll work out." Hmm, and he talked about working with Ralph Richardson, uh, on the film, uh, The Longest Ride, and, but, but about working on stage, and he and Richardson told him, "Well, it's when you get on stage, that's our timed dream, and if so, if all those things are working, the acting and the actors with each other , and the text and, you know, you can, at certain moments, kind of become that person.

You know, hearing you talk about the fascination of the audience and the energy of the audience. We didn't talk at all about your long and extensive career as a film actor, a completely... I mean, imagine if you had to bring Roy Cohen to the screen or bring Max Balistock to a revival of the producers as a film. You've done a lot of films, obviously The Birdcage. Many, many people love that film. I love that film. It's an incredible role. But it's completely different, it has to be totally different, almost like you're doing a different job, like you're in a different profession when you're performing in front of someone." From the cameras, right?

Um, yes and no. Um, you know, if you were doing Roy Conn in a film like Al Puccini did, it would be very different. You know, when the National Theater, they have this National Theater Live thing, where they film the performance on stage. I, you know, I was involved with those who filmed The Man Who Came to Dinner, or they filmed for National Theater Live Angels in America, and or even The Nance, which we did for PBS as well, for Live from Lincoln Center, and you know, suddenly you're faced with: "Oh, there are all these cameras." And but you're filming a play, they're filming a live performance, so it's a different animal.

You 're not doing it for a camera. You're doing it for the people who are there, for the audience. So that's what's very different. You know, taking things you did on stage and putting them on film is, you know, the cinematic version of the musical. The producers were...you know, my joke at the time was that it was the most expensive archival recording of Lincoln Center ever made. But it was a case So, you know, Mel loved the show so much, and then he and Tom, and you know, basically he said to Susan Strowman, "Just film the show," which isn't a good idea.

And, you know, he didn't really rework what the labretto of the musical was into a screenplay. He didn't turn it back into a film. He just said to her, "Film the show." That's what happened. And when I got the script, I was doing the show in London. And I read it and said to her, "Well, that's what I'm doing here." "It wasn't reimagined as a film." Um, you know, some things we can't do with the receptionists at the beginning. It was funny on stage because it was like an old musical critique, and the audience was singing along, you know, it's like you have to think about, oh, what...maybe it starts with the end of Funny Boy, and you see a bit of that musical and it's a disaster, and it's in the background, and then, you know, and then slowly it leads to, you know, King of Broadway or something like that, you know, it has to be reimagined.

Yeah. Well, it wasn't. We did the show as a film and um, and it was very much that material, you know, that's where you are, I don't know how you do a small independent film version of the producers. You know, or it goes, you know, Zero Zero was pretty big. It's going to be big. I remember Matthew telling me: I don't know what to do. It's the same material. I don't know how to do it differently than we did. We couldn't do certain things and we were kind of stuck.

If you had done the show, you would feel a little stuck, like, I don't I don't know what else to do, never put your own money into the show unless you yell "second best, never put your own money into the show." That's how the joke works. And then it's you, either people will accept it or it's like, oh, this is like the movie version of Little Abner. It's big. It's a big comedy, but you know, ultimately, I don't think it worked as a movie, as a musical.

But, you know, it kind of captured a little bit of what the show was like, but not the kind of anarchy of the stage show and the feeling of "anything could happen" that was in the theater, which was like a party. Yeah. You never knew what was going to happen. Does being in front of an audience and feeling that energy make it easier than being in a movie and talking to a camera where you don't have that feedback? No. No. It's easier to do without them.

But because when you 're on stage, you all have to work together and you have to control them to a certain extent. Sometimes you know they're going to want to take the show off. You. We don't want it to be that serious. Or we don't want them... you never know. Yeah, that's it, they're active participants in the nightlife, and they 're the other cast member, and a whole group of 1,200 people turns into one big personality that you have to deal with. And even in the most serious things, there's always a little antenna you're tracking, you know, are they paying attention?

Are they listening? Are they a little bored? It exists, it exists, you know, it's just to prevent a large group of people from coughing. That's it, and, uh, so, it's an important part of it. So, yeah, no, it's much easier in the film not to think about any of that. I'm curious about the character Roy Con. I know you talked about that character and the complexity of that man. Um, uh, you know, because for some he kind of embodies evil, but, but there's a lot of complexity in who he was.

He was Jewish. He kind of hated being Jewish. He was gay. He helped. He wasn't, he was completely closeted. Hmm, hmm, he died of AIDS and never, hmm, admitted it. Hmm, until the end. Hmm, h ... Well, there's ... Um, um, he was, you know, it's interesting to talk about. I spoke with some people who were friends of his, who loved him, and... there's not much to read. I mean, he wrote an autobiography with this guy, Sydney Zion, a questionable journalist, which is hilarious. So, there's only one book, Citizen Cone.

They made a TV movie with James Woods, but the first two chapters cover the last two years of his life. The first chapter, I must say, I'm sorry. And that was, you know, the basis for a lot of what I did, because it had a lot of hospital records and his behavior in the hospital, and... and it talked about some physical things that happened to him that I wanted to use in the second half in Paris. Which is watching his disintegration, which I felt I hadn't seen much of in terms of what I'd read.

And with him, um, he had, you know, he had a tremor. He had a tremor that went from his shoulder to one hand and then to the other, and if he was talking to someone, he would hold his hand and... He would stop shaking . While he was talking to someone , he was trying to control everything and, um, so I found that interesting. And also, he had yeast infections, so I wanted to do something where, and in Paris Striker, where you haven't seen him for a while, and then in the next scene, there's this big scene with Joe Pitt and when he 's in the hospital bed and his voice is weak and he talks to him, and um, so I wanted to do these physical things.

I mean, you know , it's all kind of in his childhood. Yes, he was a self-hating Jew, a self- hating homosexual. Um, and look, these people, um, I know people see him as bad. Everyone said he was bad and that he did a lot of reprehensible things, but these people don't see it that way. They 're right and they're very positive about it and they're charming. They're seductive, you know, they're many, many things. They're not just you, you know, so you're...it's this combination of things, but you know, Kushner gives you a lot.

You want To say, there were moments when it was a piece, as you know. It was , you're talking about when you did the whole thing, it was seven and a half hours. And , uh, but the way it is, particularly that part, the way it 's presented, the architecture of Roy Conn and that piece is, it... there... it gives you a lot of rest and you know, you... you know, there's that opening scene, and then, and then at the end of that particular act, it's one of the best scenes ever written.

It's as good as anything in Death of a Salesman, with the scene of the doctor telling you that you have AIDS and he explains that he can't have AIDS. And in every performance, I was like, you know, I'd sit there and you can understand it in so many different ways. And then, you know, it was just the best. Yeah, you know, I'm so happy to be able to do this. It's one of the best plays and best roles ever written. And you never get bored. There's nothing.

It's always inspiring. And I thought, I can't believe I'm going to do this again and discover it again. How What am I going to do when the doctor says this? And it 's fascinating. It's simply, you know, so, again, it's, you do all this preparation, reading, and research. And now, you know, I don't know: what would we do without Google? And you, you read all this stuff, and you watch all this stuff on YouTube with footage of it, and then, and then you absorb all of that, and then you have this, and then you have these words, and it's, it's, and then, you know, like my friend Brian Denah, who kind of gave me the best advice, personally, when we were doing Iceman, and he said, um, I told him after, you know, in Chicago, you have nine previews and then all the critics come to the first one, to that preview, and they give you an assessment based on nine Iceman performances, which is nothing.

But after the reviews, I told Brian, "You , you played this role; Tell me , tell me something, give me some notes, anything. "And he said, um, he said, 'You're doing a great job,' he said, 'Um, the role is so impossible and enormous.'" "He said, ' You had to map everything out the way you did just to orient yourself.' And he said , 'What I would say is: now throw it all away.' Wow. Just let the piece happen to you and see where it takes you.

And then , the rest of that time in Chicago was just a great adventure of doing that show and getting used to it and then trying different things and, and, you know, having little breakthroughs here and there and, and, and, and, and, and then, you know, I, I just, you know, when , when the material is so deep and dense, and you, you know, there are these things, you know, like Roy Conn, you know, I mean, you could play these, these kinds of roles, you could play them forever because it's endlessly interesting and fascinating.

And then, you know, you're also kind of, as you figure it out, you 're trying to simplify, you know, keep things simple and economical, and with, but, you know, it's difficult. And it's difficult too, because there are people like Roy Conn who are full of rage." Hmm, which is also kind of funny. You get to put all that stuff out there. You know, that impresses me. I mean, here you are, you're in your 60s and you've had a very long career. You've won three Tonys. And it impresses me that, I mean, you not only always work to improve as an actor, because I think you're still improving as an actor, but it impresses me that you're looking for challenges to help you become a better actor.

Totally. Oh, yeah. I'm always looking for the next mountain to climb. Hmm, yeah, you know, it's that thing of, you know, you want to be scared. You want to... I don't know if I can do it, but I have to try. Otherwise, why am I an actor? Why am I doing this? If I'm not going to take risks, if I haven't reached that point where I can, you can, take that risk, you know, and try different things, you know, something that's a big change that people might not think of you for, and ...

and, but accepting that kind of challenge, you know, it's... it goes back to that, you know? I had that before I did Iceman, like nine years prior, I had a conversation with Ken Brana at one point where we talked about these kinds of roles, and he'd certainly played a lot of them, and he said, uh, and he was incredibly encouraging, and then he finally said, "You know, Nathan, you ...you can't, you can't just talk about them; You really have to go somewhere and do them. "And...and he said," It doesn't matter what people will say, and believe me, they will have opinions, but what you will learn by taking on these kinds of roles, climbing these kinds of mountains, will be invaluable and will change your life.

"And it turned out to be true, Nathan Lane. Thank you so much. Thank you. Hey, thank you so much for listening to my conversation with Nathan Lane on The Great Creators. To learn more, go to greatcreators.com/lane, where we post links to many of the things we talked about in this interview. Also, subscribe to this channel and click the bell to receive notifications whenever a new episode is released. We have much more news to come. Thank you for watching. And, as always, you can also listen to us as a podcast.

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