Playwright Matthew Lombardo has often built shows around strong women, some of them real-life figures. In 2002’s Tea at Five it was Katherine Hepburn, played by a Grade-A Kate Mulgrew. And in 2010’s Looped, it was Tallulah Bankhead, played by Valerie Harper in her last great performance—a Tony-nominated one at that.
Tea at Five was based on Hepburn’s memoir, Me: Stories of My Life, and Looped was based on a real-life event, a tanked-up Bankhead, trying (for eight hours!) to redub one line of dialogue in her final film—a 1965 horrorshow titled, Tallelulah-esque, Die! Die! My Darling!
But the ultimate source material for these women rising triumphantly from the ashes is Lombardo’s own mother, who finally rates her place on stage via his latest opus, the semi-autobiographical Conversations with Mother. It will play Theater 555 from February 26 to March 31.
“My father died when I was 33 and I think, in a way, I became my mother’s husband,” Lombardo tells Observer. “I was always there. She’s still telling me what to do at age 60, but it’s wonderful to have someone who is so hands-on in your life. People forget that. I wouldn’t be where I am today without my mother because she believed in me when I didn’t necessarily believe in myself.”
This is the play Lombardo claims he never had any intention of writing. Then, about 10 years ago, he had one of those conversations with Mother, and, when he got off the phone, he realized most people would not believe the dialogue that passed between them. To test it out, he wrote it all up and posted it on Facebook. People responded to it, and every so often he’d post another conversation. They kept responding, and he kept resisting. Finally, one night at three in the morning, it just clicked: He saw a play made up of snapshots across 60 years.
Caroline Aaron of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel plays Maria Collavechio, the matriarchal role, and even Lombardo considers her a “scary” facsimile of the genuine article. Matt Doyle (who recently got a Tony for supporting Company) is Maria’s son, Bobby, aka Lombardo himself, some 30 years younger. Basically, they play back-and-forth verbal tennis that’s frequently funny and often with poignant underpinnings.
“All of my actresses have been very collaborative,” he says. “Now, working with Caroline, it’s fantastic. We’re at the point in our process where she knows the character of Maria Collavechio more than I do. That is kind of a bittersweet moment for a playwright, but it’s very exciting.
“My mother has a much longer fuse than Maria. When my boyfriend first met my family, after I walked him out to his car, he said, ‘Why are you guys always yelling at each other?’ I said, ‘We weren’t yelling.’ He said, ‘Yeah, you guys were very loud and passionate.’ I said, ‘Oh, that’s just Italian. What seems to be yelling in other families is just our way of showing affection.’
“There’s a special relationship between a mother and son, a very special relationship between a mother and a gay son and an extremely special relationship between a mother and a gay Italian son,” Lombardo points out. “There’s this co-dependency that happens—at least it did with me.”
Lombardo texts his mother first thing in the morning, and she’s the last call he makes at night. “Even before my father died, my mother and I had just been each other’s person. People might think it’s unhealthy, but with us it works,” he says. “Sometimes at night, we talk for about 45 minutes to an hour. My older brother says, ‘What do you guys talk about that long?’ I say, ‘I don’t know. We just talk and gossip and share and exchange feelings.’ It’s the most beautiful relationship I’ve ever known.”
Lombardo’s mom is 95 and lives with his sister. She saw a reading of Conversations years ago and was touched by the way the plot points and banter mirrored her own with her son. Now there are plans afoot afoot to get her to see the finished production, and Lombardo thinks Theater 555 is a setting that fits the show itself. “The audience is right there, and they’re experiencing the intimacy,” he says. “We’ll get her to come to a matinee where we can watch it together.”
