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Philip Seymour Hoffman is such a primal, prolific acting force on stage and screen — dotted with numerous award nominations in both mediums and capped by his "Capote" Oscar — that people frequently forget he's a fellow who dons other hats.

During the time he and John Ortiz shared the artistic reins of the LAByrinth Theatre Company (2000-2008), he directed the world premieres of five plays by Stephen Adly Guirgis (The Little Flower of East Orange, The Last Days of Judas Iscariot, Our Lady of 121st Street, Jesus Hopped the 'A' Train and In Arabia, We'd All Be Kings) and, with them, defined the troupe as a volatile, dynamic ensemble where every member came up to the mark. Long story short, he directs like he acts — full-throttle. No actor was left behind.

There he and Ortiz are, in roles they originated at The Public in 2007 — Jack and Clyde, Manhattan limo drivers locked into a dead-end life. Back, too, is LAByrinth regular Daphne Rubin-Vega in the role of Clyde's estranged wife, Lucy. New to the mix is Amy Ryan as Connie, Jack's hoped-for hook-up who is coaxed into a blind-date situation by Lucy, her co-worker at a Brooklyn funeral parlor.

Both wannabe romantics are bashful "players" at this love game. Connie's idea of a suitable swain is someone who takes her rowing or rustles up a good meal. These she plucks randomly out of the air in the dead of winter, giving Jack months to hone his chick-getting skills: He takes swimming lessons from Clyde and culinary lessons from "The Cannoli," a well-endowed pastry chef who's a festering old-flame of Lucy's.

	Beth Cole, Philip Seymour Hoffman and John Ortiz in the 2007 stage production
	photo by Monique Carboni

In its scruffy, dry-eyed, close-to-the-earth sort of way, "Jack Goes Boating" has romantic-comedy aspirations — certainly more than any other LAByrinth-based opus that comes to mind — a fact which both amazes and dismays the author, Bob Glaudini, who has delivered gritty, heavy-duty goods before to the company (via Dutch Heart of Man and A View From 151st Street).

"When I started writing this, I thought I was going to write the most vicious, mean-spirited play," confesses the playwright, who made his entrance into the play on its dark side — the crumbling marriage of Clyde and Lucy. It seems her long-ago affair with "The Cannoli" is still threatening to scuttle their marital boat, and this little "fix-up" they have arranged for their respective best-friends, Jack and Connie, is really a life preserver of sorts — their way of testing the waters to see if love is still out there.

"That part of the story was in me very strong — much closer to me as an experience — but then Jack and Connie kept popping up and not letting me go there. They were like an antidote to all of that. I think the four characters played well together. We have one couple whose relationship is deteriorating, sorta projecting whatever they can onto the couple coming together. There was the anxiety of someone whose relationship was unraveling, played against the anxiety of meeting someone new you might care about. This I saw after I had written it. I just followed the characters.

"I had an image of 'yeah, he will go boating at the end,' but, other than that, I just let the characters lead me through the play without any outline. When you do the film script, of course, you have an outline. The wonderful thing about both a play and a film is that the text is really a pretext for what evolves. It's in the translating to film that things can grow. I learned that, in film, the shooting drafts I came up with were the beginning of a couple of other drafts. Those other drafts were the collaborations, first, between the photographer and Phil and then between Phil and the editor. Each one is another draft. When I was writing my draft, Phil and I would meet and discuss things, and I could sense what he was looking for visually and cinematically — his vision, so to speak. He would include me in creating stuff that supported the director's vision — cinematic journeys that he and the photographer wanted to make with the story — and what I could do in the draft to give the scaffolding to that."

	Hoffman (center) on set with the production crew
	photo by K.C. Bailey

The physical look of the film has the bleak, emotionally gray feel of a previous Hoffman flick, "The Savages." Unsurprisingly, both are the work of one man — W. Mott Hupfel III, the director of photography — at the request of director Hoffman.

"Mott was somebody I had met years ago in college," Hoffman relays. "We weren't really good friends back then, but I always knew he was a D.P., and eventually we re-met on the set of 'The Savages,' and I got to work with him there as an actor, which was a much different relationship, obviously. I really liked what he did on that film, and, when my film was brought to him, he said he was very interested, so we talked and I just kinda knew right away that he was the guy. And he was the guy. I have to say it was a great working experience. He's a wonderful collaborator."

Between the two of them (three counting Glaudini — and four counting a particularly industrious location finder), "Jack Goes Boating" offers a very realistic, un-touristy view of a winter-slammed, dramatically desolate New York at a variety of locations and temperatures.

"Some scenes were set," says Glaudini, "but I suggested locations to the production manager, and he found choices for Phil and Mott to look at. We were in Long Island, Queens, Harlem and, mostly, midtown Manhattan. It was a difficult shoot. We were shooting at four in the morning in sub-zero temperatures."

Littered throughout the film is a myriad of quick scenes shot all over town, assembled by editor Brian Kates in a way that disguises the property's stage roots. "Well, thank you very much, but I'm sure not everyone will agree with you," a cautionary Glaudini begs to differ. "Once one hears that it was a play before they go in — I'm talking in terms of people who write and blog about film — once that is learned, then people look for that. But I'm a huge fan of that kind of film. I love a whole series of films that were stage plays first and then turned into films, starting with Renoir and Wyler and going on up through Lumet, Nichols and Fassbinder."

Counterclockwise from right: Hoffman discusses a scene with DP Mott Hupfel, Amy Ryan and Daphne Rubin-Vega

photo by K.C. Bailey