Writing to Delight
Ro Reddick and Cold War Choir Practice
About a decade ago, my dear friend Zakiyyah Alexander and I taught a workshop: “Film and TV for Playwrights.” I did features, Z did TV, and while many of our students were remarkable, Ro Reddick really stood out and after the workshop we kept in touch.
At first, we worked together. Ro offered to produce my film Polly Freed (long story) and we worked for six or seven years on a project that still hasn’t seen the light of day. (But we learned a ton! And when I put Ramona together, I could draw on our collective learnings)… and a genuine and rich friendship emerged. I think the world of her.
Ro began as an actor, and then earned an MBA from Stern (NYU). During the pandemic, she decided to go back to school for playwriting. And now her play Cold War Choir Practice is closing out the season for Clubbed Thumb Summerworks, an incredible downtown summer ritual for theater-folk and the people who tolerate us. Clubbed Thumb’s Maria Striar says of the play, “I appreciated the play on the page and in readings, but getting to experience it with all the music is a revelation. It’s a layered, complex and intricate constellation, musically and narratively.”
BB: You have been on so many sides of the creative process—actor/performer, producer, writer—how did each emerge, and how do you collate these creative identities? How do your artist-selves talk to each other?
RR: I think of all the creative hats I’ve worn as inevitable. If you stick around long enough, you’ll find yourself shifting into a new lane—out of curiosity, a desire for growth, or necessity. I started out as an actor, which for a long time was enough for me, but soon became a gateway into producing and writing. I had excess creative energy that I needed to funnel somewhere, and writing became the outlet.
My desire to make something on my own led me to producing short films and eventually serving as a producer of marketing and distribution on indie film projects. I now think of myself first and foremost as a writer, but I’m happy to have those other skills in my back pocket. I haven’t produced a full theatrical production yet, but it feels like an exciting challenge.
As for how my artist-selves talk to each other: they don’t. I love being able to think strategically and bring a project to completion, but I don’t want my producer’s eye anywhere near my writing. I want to write to delight myself, not fit a particular budgetary or logistical constraint. Similarly with performing, if I’m writing something I’m going to perform, it’s best not to let my performer self know that. I don’t want her worrying about having to embody anything I put on the page. I’m working on a solo-ish show and recently tried having another actor stand in during a development workshop so that I could concentrate fully on making the thing, and that worked out nicely. So, these different artistic identities coexist and I toggle between them as needed.
BB: What was the moment you knew that you wanted to get a degree in playwriting?
RR: I knew I wanted an MFA before the pandemic, but lockdown sped things up. I was taking a series of classes with Winter Miller to write a new play, and my wife encouraged me to apply to grad school that cycle rather than wait another year. I’m so grateful for that encouragement.
BB: And what was it like to go back to school for an MFA after already completing your MBA?
RR: An MFA and an MBA are basically diametrically opposed, so the experience couldn’t have been more different. What was gratifying about getting my MFA was the gift of space and time to explore my own creative impulses. I also studied under Julia Jarcho, who’s a mad genius, and who pushed us towards the strange, the unexpected, the unfamiliar. I was introduced to a host of new influences, fed intellectually, and encouraged to continually push against the seams of the form. It was truly transformational. I’m carrying a bit of our workshop ethos into each new creative context I enter.
BB: Where did this play come from? How has the process been? (You're working with my friend Andy Lucien!)
Everywhere. lol. The story is a comedic spy thriller set in the late 80s in a roller rink in upstate New York. A prominent Black conservative brings his mysteriously ill wife home for Christmas, and the characters are tossed into a maze of spycraft, capitalist cult predation, and choir practice.
Part of the play is inspired by my childhood; part by our evolving concerns with Russia and the threat of a new Cold War; and other parts by a class I took at Brown with Lyndsay Caplan that looked at the intersection of art, politics, and technology from the end of WWII through the 90s. The semester I started writing it I also took a class on Ableton, which allowed me to make the demos for the songs in the show.
The process has been great. Our cast is incredible. You know Andy, so you know his talent—the rest of the actors are equally impressive. I’ve been continually bowled over by their creativity and ability to surprise me with their choices. Knud Adams is such a sharp director. He’s turning his keen eye for detail onto the many moving parts of the play and I think the result will be something strange, fun, and precise.
BB: What inspires you? And what are your thoughts on indie film in this crazy moment? And honing our producing skills alongside our creative visions?
RR: I don’t know if I have cogent thoughts on the state of indie film at the moment. My thoughts have been focused on the challenges the theater is facing and what it means to be “emerging” as a playwright in this moment. I don’t have any answers there either. If anything, the increased uncertainty and lack of clarity regarding the future of the business has made me oddly defiant creatively. How I’m getting through is by clinging to the people that have invested in me and doubling down on making art that speaks to my own particular obsessions and interests. That approach means I may be producing my own work again in the near future—which wouldn’t be completely new, but might take on a different urgency this time around. If that turns out to be true, I feel ready.
Go see Choir War Choir Practice! Now through July 1 at The Wild Project, 195 East Third Street, NYC, NY 10009.
Single tickets and festival passes are now on sale here.
More info here.
See you next week with Ramona’s Book Club: two great new books on indie film and a friend’s play. Be well, stay safe, and if you’re in New York City, do vote in the upcoming primary June 24.
Love,
Brooke
Love that Ro Reddick and our work together still tickles me. Happiness is encouraging and witnessing a talented artist discover or liberate her voice.
I saw this production as her Brown thesis and loved it. I have no doubt this version will be super 🔥