“There’s something special about the idea that someone can’t get to a show because they’re out of tickets,” says Timothy Sheader. It’s a surprising admission from one of our most talented directors, especially at a time when the mantra revolves around accessibility and inclusivity.
At the Donmar Warehouse, which Sheader took charge of last summer, the prospect of there being both a lot of lucky – and by extension unhappy – punters seems a racing certainty as the first show of his tenure sees a significant casting coup with entails.
As he reveals to the Telegraph, Adrien Brody (best known for The Pianist, for which he won an Oscar at the age of 29) will make his British stage debut in The Fear of 13, an adaptation (by Lindsey Ferrentino) of the admired 2015 documentary about an American man named Nick Yarris who spent 22 years on Death Row after being wrongfully convicted of a rape-murder in 1982, at the age of 21.
“You want to open with a big splash, right?” says Sheader, a brightly alert figure, thoughtful and confident, who seems younger than his 52 years. After saying yes to the project within a week, Brody (who has not been on the board since his early career) is, in a sense, destroying it: the (undisclosed) salary he will receive will be the standard salary of the company are: “They all get the same salary, whether it is their first job or an Academy Award winner.”
Whether Brody will see the stage-door frenzy experienced by Spider-Man star Tom Holland in Romeo and Juliet or David Tennant in Donmar’s Macbeth remains to be seen; and how he will respond to fans is another question. “It’s an artist by artist, isn’t it?” says Sheader. “And what their relationship is with the public and with social media. Some people love it. Some people hate it.”
Brody’s debut fits neatly into the Donmar’s history with household names (Jude Law, Gwyneth Paltrow, Rachel Weisz, Nicole Kidman) appearing in a venue so intimate (with 251 seats) that it almost feels homely, albeit enhanced by the characteristic brick back wall. . The bosses (particularly Sam Mendes, Michael Grandage and Josie Rourke) were leaning towards directing films, but Sheader doesn’t see himself following in their footsteps. “That won’t be my trajectory: going to Hollywood. I am older.”
Such is its fame that the Donmar has sometimes become a victim of its own success, having been considered impossible to get into. Although Sheader points out the many routes to get tickets, he is unapologetic: “The Donmar is a boutique theatre. We should celebrate that. Just as no one wants to wear the same dress that everyone else is wearing, or have the same shoes, they also want to be part of something that is theatrically special.”
Elsewhere in the season, Sheader himself will direct Natasha, Pierre & The Great Comet of 1812, a spirited recent Broadway musical based on War and Peace. There’s a new dose of stardust coming in the new year: Tamsin Greig and Celia Imrie join forces for Backstroke. In this new play (written and directed) by Anna Mackmin, a middle-aged woman (Greig) tries to care for her elderly mother (Imrie), who has been hospitalized with a stroke, while caring for her daughter. The opening salvo concludes with a revival of Intimate Apparel by Lynn Nottage (the American playwright often performed at the Donmar), about a black seamstress in early 20th century New York – played by the American actress Samira Wiley (Orange is the New Black). .
If there is a common thread in this season and in Sheader’s work (he ran the Open Air Theater, Regent’s Park for sixteen years, this year his last programme), it is the combination of spectacle and social engagement. He brought grit and glitter to his Olivier-winning Jesus Christ Superstar. And while some innovations caused a stir – “A Tale of Two Titties,” the Sun mocked a daring, partly modernized version of Dickens – he makes no apologies for pushing things: “I want work that is entertaining and full of ideas . I don’t want to make people eat their vegetables, but I do want to give them a lot to chew.”
Sheader has no theatrical background. He grew up in Scarborough. His father worked for a coach and bus manufacturer, his mother is a dental nurse and his brother became a local builder. “I’m the first person in my family to work in the arts, and the first to go to university” (he studied law with French in Birmingham).
His school years in the 1980s sound tough – “I grew up in a tough time for a young queer person – we definitely used the word ‘queer’ differently back then. I was bullied.” Theater threw him a lifeline. “There was a school trip to the Stephen Joseph Theater and I remember the lights going down and feeling like I wanted that experience in my life.”
The irony of running a building is that it is likely to test an artistic director’s love for theatre. In addition to the pressing concerns about attendance numbers, finances and leaking toilets, there are the countless hot-button issues affecting contemporary theater culture. Sheader has no problem with the ongoing fuss about trigger warnings (“I find the debate really boring. It’s substantive advice”) and is also concerned that conformism and caution may creep in, given the artistic and financial fear of failure.
Although he doesn’t speak directly about Sheridan Smith’s infamous recent ‘musical’, Opening Night, he is passionate about the risks and rewards of musical theatre: ‘It’s harder to get it right than most other forms. Often the results are ridiculous, but music reaches deeper than spoken word. Looking more broadly at theater making, he says: “We need turkeys. You learn from them, everything else is made to order.”
His sensational programming of The Fear of 13 shows how deeply he understands the challenge of streaming giants like Netflix in the live performance space. “It would be foolish to say that we do not compete with streaming television, but of course we do. It has changed the landscape tremendously, especially during the pandemic when many theater audiences discovered it. We [in theatre] now we have to grab people by the scruff of the neck and say, ‘Hi, we’re here!’” He sees theatrically capitalizing on the fashion for non-fiction (documentaries, podcasts) as a way forward.
Sheader will also be keeping a close eye on the results of the general election. The Donmar lost its regular Arts Council funding (of more than £500,000 per year) in 2022, as part of the ‘levelling up’ agenda aimed at distributing more money outside the capital. Sheader is optimistic about the loss (“It was seven percent of our income”) – yet he looks forward to a shift in temperature, or at least in tone.
“I think it will be [financial] ‘business as usual’ for the arts in the near future [if Labour get in] but there will be a crucial difference. It’s hard to lose the taste of recent years in minimizing art and artists. Or [Shadow Secretary of State for Culture, Media and Sport] Thangam Debbonaire is holding her chair, we don’t know that yet. But the rhetoric is different: she speaks with passion, inspiration and knowledge. Basically, artists will know that we have a department that believes in us.”
“I lost a thousand seats, but I gained a roof,” he likes to joke about moving from his outdoor base to his cozy new home. All he has to do now is raise the roof regularly. No pressure.
Priority booking opens today; public booking opens on July 3, Info: donmarwarehouse.com