Neil Peter Jampolis sat in a very small bar in the Upper West Side of Manhattan a little more than 20 years ago, in attendance at the workshop production of yet another fledgling musical lurking around New York City, hopeful for its big break. This one was also looking to charm Jampolis into accepting a role as its scenic designer.
A Tony and Drama Desk Awards-recipient and design and directing professor of 18 years in the UCLA School of Theater, Film and Television, Jampolis took only 10 to 15 minutes in the workshop of “Forever Plaid” to, as he put it, “get it.”
“I sat watching these guys being really bad at 1950s music numbers. I thought, “˜Oh my God, they’re so clumsy and their moves are silly,'” he said. “And then, by about the third number, I suddenly decided what I was watching was a work of genius. I started grinning, and I didn’t stop grinning until about the end of the show, and I couldn’t stop clapping like everyone else.”
An interjection came at this point from Jane Reisman, a former UCLA world arts and cultures professor and Jampolis’ wife of 38 years: “I got a phone call ““ “˜You gotta see this!'”
“She was like, “˜What is this?'” Jampolis continued the story. “It’s about this high school quartet who came back to Earth to do a show they never did.”
“And I thought, OK … “ Reisman said.
Jampolis was busy working on another production at the time, so he suggested he would design the set and Reisman the lighting. With the husband and wife team, “Forever Plaid” ran its first commercial production in 1989.
In celebration of its 20th year as one of the longest running off-Broadway shows, “Forever Plaid 20th Anniversary Special” will be held as a one-night-only event at Club Nokia in Los Angeles and broadcast live in 375 movie theaters on Thursday.
Members of the original cast, creator and director Stuart Ross, and others will be at the L.A. premiere to introduce the specially filmed version of the musical, which was recorded last August in front of a live audience, according to producer Suren Seron. At the end of the night will be a sing-along with the cast broadcast live from Club Nokia on the silver screen.
The show did not of course start out with a red carpet scene, or even in an actual theater, but the same bar with about 90 seats and a very tiny stage with barely enough room to fit the piano.
“I think the kitchen was right behind the stage. The waiters actually came out through the set and delivered food and drinks to the tables,” Jampolis said.
Air conditioning ducts that ran from the stage to the audience section posed challenges for Jampolis as scenic and set designer. To allow the ducts to pass through, he came up with what he called a “funny proscenium” that kept its unusual shape even as the show moved into high-end (and duct-free) venues like the Old Globe, Civic Theatre, London’s West End and various theaters in Tokyo.
“It became a kind of emblem for me for the set,” he said.
According to Jampolis, his original idea for the show’s look was a kind of jukebox, which accounts for the various blue, blue-green, purple and gold color. Nearly everything that can light up does light up. The two small prosceniums have light bulbs around them that chase at different counts. The combination of lights give the look of a movie marquee. Lights also surround the edge of the stage on the floor.
“The entire thing kind of floats in this middle of changing color of lights,” he said.
In the end, everything “turns plaid” as the entire stage lights up.
The only change over the years has been in the scale of the various venues, according to both Jampolis and Reisman. The color palette and content of the set have remained constant, whether in theaters big or small.
“I think he has a very unique set of color choices,” said producer Seron, who became involved with the show more than six years ago. “With a limited budget, Neil came up with many wonderful creative ideas for building material that both achieved a vision for the show, but one that was also very unique for our film and created the very best production.”
Reisman also credits her husband with a wonderful sense of music, which has enabled his extensive involvement in not only plays and musicals, but also dance and opera.
“Working on this one together was quite easy,” Reisman said. “I guess we’ve been together long enough to know each other’s instinct. … We know where it’s going. But he trusts me, so he leaves me alone a lot and to make it happen.”
Jampolis and Reisman met through their work in the theater.
“It’s sort of a funny story,” Reisman said.
After the two worked on a tiny production off-Broadway called “Things That Almost Happened,” which because of producing and money conflicts never did happen, Jampolis later asked Reisman to step in for him on another show when he had to leave for Holland. Reisman mailed out letters daily to confirm and inquire about the details of the show.
“For weeks, he never answered me. The night (the show) was supposed to open, a letter came, and he asked me how the reviews were,” she said.
Even if he hadn’t chosen a life of the stage, Jampolis believes he would have been a painter or a writer if not a designer.
“I never want to do the same thing twice, or punch a clock either,” he said.
Growing up in New York City, he had the advantage of going to the theater, which was cheap. He would go at night, come home at 11 p.m. and finish his homework on the subway.
“I was surrounded by art,” he said. “In those days, art and music were required subjects in high school, in grammar school. You get a taste of it early enough, and it’s hard to let go of it.”
According to Jampolis, his own design process is to find out what the work and details within the work suggest to him in a metaphorical way.
“It starts with finding the germ of the idea inside the page, and it’s not always ““” he said, when Reisman chimed in, “Hopefully falling in love with it, or be inspired.”
“It’s very demanding work, designing scene and lighting in the theater. And you have to fall in love with it,” Jampolis said. “I think you always fall in love with it when you work on it.”