An interview withDAN DIETZ01

PROJECT JOURNEY• WORKSHOP & READING AT THE PLAYWRIGHTS’ CENTER,

FEBRUARY 2011

• WORKSHOP & READING AT PLAYWRIGHTS FOUNDATION’S BAY AREA PLAYWRIGHTS FESTIVAL, JULY 2011

• WORKSHOP & READING AT THE PLAYWRIGHTS’ CENTER’S RUTH EASTON NEW PLAY SERIES, DECEMBER 2011

Khaled has traveled from Iraq to Minnesota to find his best friend, Jeff. Problem is, an IED attack has left Jeff in a coma—and Jeff’s father blames Khaled and everyone who looks like him. The two men wait it out together, and in the long silence an unexpected common language emerges, unleashing centuries of rage and resentment … and music. A heavy metal clash between Midwest and Middle East.

DECEMBER 5, 2011 • 7 PM • AT THE PLAYWRIGHTS’ CENTER • FREERESERVE SEATS: INFO@PWCENTER.ORG • (612) 332-7481 x10The Playwrights’ Center is wheelchair-accessible.

HOME BELOW ZEROBY DAN DIETZ

THE 2011-12 RUTH EASTONNEW PLAY SERIESpresents free readings of new work by today’s most exciting playwrights. For more information visit www.pwcenter.org.

JEREMY B. COHENFROM PRODUCING ARTISTIC DIRECTOR

It is with a proud heart that I launch this year’s Ruth Easton New Play Series, as part of our 40th Anniversary Season, with this emotionally gripping and soaring new work by our Core Writer, Dan Dietz.

Dan first wrote and developed a draft of Home Below Zero during his Jerome Fellowship at the Center last year, and from the moment his reading began, everyone in the theater leaned forward in that singular experience of watching the birth of a truly inspired new theatrical work. It is with no small thrill that I have watched the play take shape over the last several months, and with great excitement that we now have the opportunity to share it with the public.  Like much of Dan’s recent work, this play embraces a musical genre as the fulcrum on which he balances epic emotional journeys … writ with great intimacy. This particular piece—which centers on a young Iraqi man and the American soldier who bonds with him over heavy metal while in Baghdad occupying the country as a member of the armed forces—ingeniously utilizes the speed and power of sound to speak volumes and ignite physical connection that the two would never otherwise share. Dan has crystallized the conflict in Iraq anew within the lives and decisions of these exquisitely drawn and deeply complex relationships. His treatment of the war is etched by laying bare its emotional core, allowing his storytelling to dwell not in division, but in embrace. Please join us as we celebrate this stunning new play by Dan Dietz—and catch this important new work before it surely makes its way onto stages across the country.

KHALED.You never asked me why I no longer had a band to play with when I met Jeff. You never asked about my sister and her condition. Or my mother. You. Are not the only one. Paying.

(He plugs his guitar into his little amp and turns it on.)

I would be like you. My hands, my fists. If I didn’t have this to put inside them.

—Home Below Zero

DAN DIETZAn interview with

WHAT, IN YOUR WORDS, IS HOME BELOW ZERO ABOUT?

I think it’s about a few different things. It’s a play that wrestles with America’s

attempts to walk away from our excursions in Iraq as rapidly as possible. It’s

also a play about where we are now as a country economically. I think a big

reason why we’re desperate to walk away from the Middle East is because we’re

broke—in all definitions of the word. People are just trying to get by, just trying

to build a stable environment for themselves and their children. So I think it’s not

so much our inherent irresponsibility as a nation, although that’s certainly a topic

worth discussion; it’s the fact that, economically and idealistically, people are just

really struggling right now. And that’s a crucial factor in understanding where our

relationship with Iraq is at this particular moment in time. We’re a far cry from the

nation that tore down the statue of Saddam eight years ago.

It’s also about how music can bond people in unexpected ways and serve as a

common language and a conduit for emotion—as a bridge and, perhaps, as a

hammer that can smash a bridge.

WHEN DID THE CONCEPT FOR THE PLAY FORM?

In 2010, I was listening to an interview on Fresh Air. Terry Gross was talking to

these heavy metal musicians who had recently made it out of Iraq and found

their way to the United States. They were one of Iraq’s only heavy metal bands, a

band called Acrassicauda, which is apparently Latin for “black scorpion.” As they

were telling their story I was really blown away, so I watched this documentary

about them, Heavy Metal in Baghdad.

Growing up, my older brother was a total metalhead—he loved Iron Maiden, he

loved Megadeth, he loved Metallica, he had the long hair and everything. So

naturally I associated heavy metal with suburban teen angst. The lyrics were

about all of these things that are coming to get you, this irresistible fascism that’s

going to come down on you if you don’t resist it and fight back, and it seemed

like that roughly translated to “Your mom and dad are going to tell you you can’t

stay out late,” you know? “Screw them, do what you want.” Or at least that’s what

it seemed to translate to in our family and in our world.

But what blew me away was that for these musicians from Iraq, those lyrics and

the driving energy of that music spoke directly to the reality of their lives. They

were having to deal with real oppression and real war and real things to resist

and fight back against, or die trying.

I had never looked at heavy metal that way before. I had always seen it

through an ironic lens—as a packaged rebellion that you could buy or not. I had

never seen it so honestly and purely before. And it struck a chord in me. I knew

that would be my way in to writing about the Iraq War—which was something I

had been wanting to do, but didn’t really know how.

DID YOU LISTEN TO A LOT OF METAL TO GET READY TO WRITE THE PLAY?

I did! I listened to a lot of metal and I just did a lot of remembering about

driving around with my older brother in his car and him blasting Metallica and

Queensrÿche and Judas Priest and all these other bands out the window.

DO YOU HAVE A FAVORITE?

There’s something about Metallica that is just so awesome and pure. To me,

they’re the epitome of 80s thrash metal. I mean, there are other bands who came

along who were faster and thrashed harder, I suppose, and there are certainly

other bands who are more lyrical, but there’s something about Metallica that just

feels like the source to me. That early- to mid-80s Metallica has a purity of sound

that, to me, encapsulates what that era of heavy metal was all about.

What’s really wild is that ever since the 90s when bands like Nirvana went

mainstream, and with the softening of Metallica, even, with their Black Album in

the 90s, what used to be considered dangerous music—I mean, parents were

told to be concerned if their kids were listening to this stuff back in the 80s—has

become completely mainstream. I think the biggest shocker when you go back

to listen to it is how mainstream it sounds, given how extreme it used to sound

back in the 80s.

WHAT RESEARCH WENT INTO THE PLAY?

I did a lot of research into the war. I tried to get a look at the war from a lot of

different perspectives, from policy perspectives—that 10,000-foot view of the

whole situation, policy decisions, strategic decisions—all the way down. I read

and watched a lot of interviews with soldiers on the ground who talked pretty

frankly about their experiences during the war, as well as interviews with soldiers

who had come home from the war—especially soldiers who had come home

with injuries, and particularly traumatic brain injuries, which has become the

signature injury of our Middle Eastern wars now.

I also did a lot of research into what the war was like from the Iraqi perspective.

There’s this beautiful book called Night Draws Near—it’s written by this journalist

who interviewed tons of Iraqis about their experiences leading up to the war,

during the war, and after the war. It’s beautiful and heartbreaking how Iraq (and

Baghdad in particular) has been forever changed by the American invasion. I

even broke it down into what it was like for Sunnis, what it was like for Shias, what

it was like for the Kurds. I did my best to get as full and detailed a perspective

on the situation as possible, so that when the time came I would have solid

material to draw on.

“FOR THESE MUSICIANS FROM IRAQ,

THOSE LYRICS AND THE DRIVING

ENERGY OF THAT MUSIC SPOKE

DIRECTLY TO THE REALITY OF THEIR

LIVES. THEY WERE HAVING TO DEAL

WITH REAL OPPRESSION AND REAL

WAR AND REAL THINGS TO RESIST

AND FIGHT BACK AGAINST, OR DIE

TRYING. I HAD NEVER LOOKED AT

HEAVY METAL THAT WAY BEFORE.”

WHAT DEVELOPMENT HAS THE PLAY SEEN SO FAR?

I’ve been really, truly blessed by the workshops I’ve had of Home Below Zero.

First, the reading I had this February at the Playwrights’ Center—for me, one of

the true gifts of that reading was the actor who was brought in to play the role

of Khaled. His mother actually worked on security in the Green Zone during the

early years of the war, and he was a wealth of experience and knowledge for me.

He was able to round out my perspective on the war in a way that nothing else

could because he could speak directly to what it was like on both sides. It was

such a gift to have him.

Then this July, I was treated to another amazing workshop experience at the

Bay Area Playwrights Festival. I had a Persian dramaturg, and our actor who

played Khaled was also Persian—which is not Iraqi, but still, he was able to offer

truly insightful perspectives on the character and on the culture in a way that I

just couldn’t have found otherwise. The other brilliant and amazing thing about

the workshop at Bay Area was the fact that we had a live heavy metal drummer

for the reading. He was able to bring the music-driven sections to life in a way

that I hadn’t really seen before, and help me understand what those scenes

and moments want to be. The kind of energy that driving metal beat can give

to a scene is just invaluable. It really helped the play suddenly become three-

dimensional in a way that I hadn’t quite experienced yet.

WHAT DO YOU PLAN TO FOCUS ON IN YOUR RUTH EASTON NEW PLAY

SERIES WORKSHOP?

At this point, what I want to do is track the overall arcs of the characters, where

they start and where they wind up. I especially want to make sure as things draw

to a close in the final few scenes that the characters are behaving in a way that

feels strong and consistent but also leaves room for surprise. I want to make sure

the play maintains a strong build and drive all the way through to the end and

doesn’t peter out, and that the final moments of the play leave the audience with

interesting questions to wrestle with as they walk out of the theater.

WHY DID YOU BECOME A PLAYWRIGHT?

It still surprises me that I did, because with one or two exceptions, I didn’t grow

up seeing plays. I did not have a theater family, and I only wound up getting into

theater because my senior year in high school a bunch of my friends were trying

out for the school play, and I just decided that if I didn’t try out too, I wouldn’t see

my friends. So I wound up getting into the play with them. It’s so funny how close

that came to not happening.

It was kind of a huge epiphany for me when I realized that this method of

storytelling made incredible sense to me, that there was something about getting

a story up in three dimensions, live, in front of an audience, that just clicked for

me. The immediacy of live performance really spoke to me, energized me, and I

knew it was what I wanted to pursue.

YOUR PLAY CLEMENTINE IN THE LOWER 9 RECENTLY PREMIERED AT

THEATREWORKS IN PALO ALTO. TELL ME A LITTLE ABOUT THAT PLAY.

It’s what I like to call a blues riff on Aeschylus’ Greek tragedy Agamemnon.

It’s the story of a family that’s trying to rebuild their home and their lives in the

wake of Hurricane Katrina, and it has live blues music in it, and to me, it asks the

question, how do you go on in the face of challenges so big that you would have

every right to just lay down and give up?

Like a lot of people, I was deeply struck by the tragedy of Katrina, not only the

disaster itself but the aftermath. And struck by the sheer force of will that the

people of New Orleans exhibited in rebuilding their city in the wake of that kind

of disaster, and, frankly, in the wake of what a lot of them experienced as deep

betrayal—betrayal by their government, both local and federal, and to a certain

extent betrayal by the national community. So I wanted to strike those notes a

little bit and wrestle with those kinds of issues.

I don’t mean to imply that it’s a political play. At the end of the day, like a lot of

Greek stories, it all boils down to the actions of a single family, and the betrayals

and hopes and dreams that are embodied in a single family, and how that family

can hopefully represent something larger.

WHAT DO YOU LIKE OR DISLIKE IN A PLAY?

I think what I like is urgency and honesty and a bold sense of risk. The play can

be risky in a formal sense, in a structural sense, which can be exciting, or the

play can be risky in terms of the issues it’s dealing with or the raw honesty with

which it presents those issues. A play can be risky in the bold humanity that it

The Playwrights’ Center is a fiscal year 2011 recipient of an Institutional Support grant from the Minnesota State Arts Board. This activity is funded, in part, by the arts and cultural heritage fund as appropriated by the Minnesota State Legislature with money from the Legacy Amendment vote of the people of Minnesota on November 4, 2008.

has to offer. As long as a play is stepping out onto a high wire, and is willing to

walk that high wire in order to get the audience to experience something that

will hopefully get them to ask new and urgent questions about their lives, that’s

what I find exciting about plays.

I think what I dislike are plays that are safe for everyone involved. Plays that don’t

ask the audience to leave their comfort zone, plays where the creators of the

experience clearly aren’t wrestling with anything—plays where nobody is taking

a chance. I feel like art is all about going somewhere you haven’t gone, about

doing something you’re afraid you can’t do. And if you’re not willing to do that,

perhaps you should put your pen down and not write that play. And pick your

pen up when you’ve got something to be scared about.

“I FEEL LIKE ART IS ALL ABOUT

GOING SOMEWHERE YOU HAVEN’T

GONE, ABOUT DOING SOMETHING

YOU’RE AFRAID YOU CAN’T DO. AND

IF YOU’RE NOT WILLING TO DO THAT,

PERHAPS YOU SHOULD PUT YOUR

PEN DOWN AND NOT WRITE THAT

PLAY. AND PICK YOUR PEN UP WHEN

YOU’VE GOT SOMETHING TO BE

SCARED ABOUT.”

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