The parade of Hollywood stars headed to Broadway is getting longer.
The latest to nose around Times Square is Samuel L. Jackson. He’s in town this week for a reading of a new play about Martin Luther King Jr. called “The Mountaintop” by Katori Hall.
First produced last year in London, it’s slated to open on Broadway in the fall, with Kenny Leon — a Tony nominee for “Fences” — directing.
Set in King’s Memphis motel room the day before he was assassinated, “The Mountaintop” sets up an imaginary exchange between King and a chambermaid.
King arrives in the room, exhausted after delivering his famous “I’ve been to the mountaintop” speech. He orders a cup of coffee, and when the maid arrives, he flirts with her. But as the evening wears on, he realizes she’s no ordinary hotel worker, and the play shifts from the realistic to the heavenly.
Jackson is being wooed with a fat Broadway paycheck: $50,000 a week.
He also has a personal connection to the story. He was an usher at King’s funeral in Atlanta. The next day, he flew to Memphis for a civil-rights protest march.
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“AP theater desk calling.”
That phrase will resonate with everybody on Broadway who knew — and loved — Michael Kuchwara, the longtime Associated Press drama critic who died Saturday at 63 after a short illness. It’s how Mike, with a touch of self-deprecation, always introduced himself on the phone.
And for 25 years, Mike was the AP theater desk, tirelessly cracking out reviews, features and news stories. When he first got the job — and his name started being bandied about in ads for shows — he was amused that, upon meeting him, many people said: “I thought you were Japanese.” (He was Ukrainian-American.)
Much has been written about his love for musicals. He died listening to Ethel Merman singing “Rose’s Turn,” and in his apartment hangs a huge poster for another favorite show, “Once on This Island,” with a quote from his review, of course.
But he loved newspapers — and being a newspaperman — just as much. He was seldom seen without a bag over his shoulder crammed with the papers. A kind and gentle friend, he was competitive. As press agents know, he could get testy if AP didn’t get the story first.
He also had a sly, gently bitchy sense of humor, which, when he chose to deploy it, cut to the chase.
I visited him in the hospital last week and tried to lighten the atmosphere with some wisecracks — “What do you think will happen to you if I press this button?” “Let’s play ‘Name That Tune’ with your heart beeps.” “What time do they serve cocktails here in the Respiratory Care Unit?”
Critic Jacques le Sourd, another friend, arrived and said: “Riedel, did you just get here?”
Mike removed his oxygen mask and said: “Good grief! He’s been here an hour!”
I took that as a mixed review.
So long, AP theater desk.