Jefferson Mays Brings Multiple Personalities to Broadway in A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder

By .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
27 Oct 2013

Jefferson Mays
Jefferson Mays
Photo by Joseph Marzullo/WENN

Tony winner Jefferson Mays chats with about tackling eight different roles in the new Broadway musical A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder.


Since most actors would give their eyeteeth for a good death scene, it's easy to fathom why you'll find Jefferson Mays in seventh heaven these days — no, better make that eighth heaven. That's how many times he goes down for the count in A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder, Robert L. Freedman and Steven Lutvak's fiendishly funny musical-comedy that began previews Oct. 22, prior to a Nov. 17 bow at the Walter Kerr.

Mays is the moving target in this murderous maze — a centerpiece with the same coat of arms: the D'Ysquiths (pronounced DIE-skwiths) — and he plays all eight of these arrogant English aristocrats who are systematically eliminated by number nine in line, a revengeful rotter after the family fortune named Monty Navarro (Bryce Pinkham).

Navarro was known as Israel Rank in his original incarnation (a book by that name, written in 1907 by Roy Horniman). It's possible that you knew him as Louis Mazzini when Dennis Price played him in that classic British romp, 1949's "Kind Hearts and Coronets" — needless to add, his perforated prey was Alec Guinness-to-the-eighth-power.

Yes, Mays admitted, it is intimidating to follow The Great Guinness — even on a target range — "but the musical is quite a different animal. It's not 'Kind Hearts and Coronets' tonally. And, of course, Guinness had the luxury of prosthetics and makeup to transform himself completely. My transformations are a little more slapdash."

Mays as Lord Adalbert D'Ysquith in A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder.
photo by Henry DiRocco

In fact, he contended, the real show occurs backstage, just out of the audience's line of vision, where he morphs from one character into another. "These quick changes are head-spinning," he declared. "One, I think, is done on stage in about three seconds.

"Velcro is the answer — and industrial snaps — and a team of muscular and determined dressers. It's like being in a wrestling match. The lights go out, and I'm set upon in the dark by these demon women, who tear my clothes off and put me into another outfit. Initially, when I was unsure of how the show was going on — sometimes, you just don't know — I'd step back on stage and never know what's going to happen next. That's the truth. I cannot think past wherever I am. It's a blessing in some ways because, in that way, I'm not contemplating the various hurtles and pitfalls that lie before me. For a while, my dressers would whisper who I was before squirting some water into my mouth and shoving me back on stage. It's a fun-house ride. The first chance I get to breathe is when I get the audience to laugh."

On stage, Alexander Dodge's pop-up greeting card-like set provides him with a delightful obstacle course. "It's set in an Edwardian theatre, sort of a stage within a stage, like those toy theatres with the paraffin lamps for footlights and bright, big, color proscenium arches. It's all done in those tones and those colors so there is something jewel-like, toy-like and exquisite that elegantly removes the audience from the actual mayhem and murder that's going on. It's not Sweeney Todd."


1 | 2 Next