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BY LUCIA MAURO
Ask most theatre artists around town who helped guide their career choices or inspired them to take on challenging projects, and you can be assured that several will single out Curt Columbus. Artistic director of Theatre on the Lake and an artistic associate at Steppenwolf Theatre are just a few of the titles this respected mentor holds. In fact, he is also a director, writer, teacher and translator, whose new translation of Anton Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya is receiving its world premiere through July 15 at Steppenwolf.
Columbus embodies the multifaceted nature a career in theatre demands, and he is willing to not only share his knowledge with future artists but also provide them with opportunities to grow and flourish. A native of New Castle, Penn., he moved to Chicago shortly after receiving his undergraduate degree in Russian studies from Yale University.
"Every step of my way in Chicago theatre," says Columbus, "I had a mentor who has encouraged me to think a little bit differently."
One of his first guides was Larry Sloan, artistic director of Remains Theatre, where Columbus worked in the late 1980s.
"Larry made me aware that I had skills I could put to use as an administrator," says Columbus. "He said that would give me a broader perspective.
"I remember the time that Larry–God rest his soul–took me to lunch, and I reached for my wallet. He insisted on paying. And then he told me some day a kid will sit across from you, and you’ll buy him lunch."
Since that time, Columbus has been following the advice of his mentors and passing along his knowledge to young artists.
He talks about other key counselors and revelatory moments in his theatre life. A former artistic associate at Victory Gardens, Columbus credits Dennis Zacek with encouraging him to pursue teaching. For the past decade, he has served as a lecturer in the University of Chicago’s Department of Humanities and was director of the University Theatre from 1995 to 2000.
Now Steppenwolf’s artistic director, Martha Lavey, has given Columbus the opportunity to tailor his translation of Uncle Vanya to the voices and rhythms of a specific ensemble. She’s also advised him to take time off from directing so that he can spend a year writing and translating. Next season at Steppenwolf, he teams up with director Tina Landau on a new translation of Elsa Bernstein’s Maria Arndt.
"There is no one path you follow to become a theatre artist," stresses Columbus. "A lot of times, those who succeed are the ones left standing. But I believe it is so important to allow yourself to listen to people who are your mentors, teachers, colleagues and peers."
He recalls a time when he saw William Petersen, who already had gotten his big break in movies, hanging lights at the old Organic space in the 1980s. Columbus was impressed with Petersen’s lack of ego and commitment to the work at hand. "I thought, if Bill Petersen can hang lights, who am I to think I’m above doing that?," he points out. "I tell my students, don’t say no to anything that’s reasonable. Even terrible projects are a learning experience."
Admitting that he’s received his higher education in the school of hard knocks, Columbus knows what it’s like to be stepped on and does not wish to pass along any sort of negative or antagonistic energy to up-and-coming directors, actors, designers or playwrights. On the other hand, he can be quite vocal about artistic visions or approaches he disagrees with. He sets his standards very high, yet can be quite humble and self-effacing during our conversation at Steppenwolf’s administrative offices.
A fascinating paradox seems to follow Columbus around. He first became enamored with theatre as a child, but it’s his interest in languages that got his foot in the stage door. Columbus shares a story about how, in the sixth grade, he got cast in the title lead of a children’s version of Macbeth.
"I was this dumpy, shiny little kid with glasses," he laughs. "I was shy and different and didn’t have a lot of friends. But I loved being on stage. People noticed me. I remember how thrilling it was when two fourth grade girls asked for my autograph."
Nevertheless, he became immersed in languages, studying French throughout high school. Then, at the age of 17, Columbus–who had been reading a lot of "Marx and Mao" at the time–says he "wanted to take a Communist language." He ultimately opted for Russian over Chinese because Yale University’s Russian entrance exam fell on an earlier date.
"I hated Russian in the beginning," shares Columbus. "I think I got a C. But then I realized that I hated the teacher. I was fortunate to have other teachers who really helped me discover the beauty of the language."
He then lived in St. Petersburg (when it was still called Leningrad) in 1985 and hooked up with a Russian mime troupe.
"This was a political troupe that did theatre without words," he notes, "because you couldn’t censor theatre without words."
That experience prompted Columbus to seek a place in a theatre world of provocative ideas. But he never took any acting classes at Yale, bluntly stating that he hated its undergraduate acting program. So when most of the Yale drama graduates headed for New York, Columbus moved in the opposite direction. He had read the pivotal story in time magazine in which Gary Sinise and William Petersen proclaimed that "real theatre" was being done in Chicago.
He arrived here in 1986, and proudly admits that his "first job in theatre" was driving a delivery van; his second, bartending; and his third, waiting tables. Then the aspiring theatre artist (who did not want to restrict himself to only one discipline) got his big break at Remains. And his Russian studies degree served as the catalyst.
Columbus assistant directed Michael Maggio on The Highest Standard of Living, Keith Reddin’s play about a graduate student who goes to Russia. Then, in 1990, Victory Gardens asked him to translate a Russian work for them. That same year, he started offering workshops in Chekhov and other theatre-related topics at the University of Chicago.
"The arts are a career where you apply all of your gifts," says Columbus. "It’s rare to do just what you love–like being only an actor. So you need to be open-minded and flexible."
In 1994, Columbus became an academic coordinator at U of C and continued to teach Chekhov, along with Greek playwrights, Tennessee Williams, acting, directing and improvising. While director of the year-round University Theatre (including theatre, music and dance programs), he staged U of C’s annual summer Shakespearean productions outdoors.
Since joining Steppenwolf as an artistic associate last year, Columbus has not renewed his contract with U of C, saying that he wishes to spend more time on his writing and translation work. He also recently directed The House of Lily at the Steppenwolf Garage and the theatre’s Arts Exchange production of Studs Terkel’s Division Street: America.
He calls his commission from Steppenwolf to translate Uncle Vanya as "the most exciting project I’ve ever been involved with–Uncle Vanya is my favorite play of all plays."
Columbus clearly becomes most impassioned when he speaks of translating Chekhov in such a rare, synergistic setting.
"As a translator," he explains, "it’s the ideal environment. Chekhov wrote his plays for an ensemble of actors; I’m translating Uncle Vanya for an ensemble of actors. That is an enormous difference. You pay attention to the rhythms of each individual actor.
"For instance, Austin Pendleton [who stars as Vanya] evokes a passion and humor that influenced the translation. We essentially found the comic rhythms of the play."
And Columbus points out that director Sheldon Patinkin treats Chekhov as "human and funny and abstracted, too," adding that Chekhov is often erroneously approached with dry, naturalistic reverence.
"I find Chekhov to encompass all the best hallmarks of naturalism," he continues, "and he’s about 50 years ahead of his time. His writing is existentialist and open-ended, and he’s writing expressionist drama simultaneously.
"The key is finding those comic rhythms in the play–but comic rhythms that are deep and truthful, not farcical. Throughout the process, we found constructions in English that you find in Russian."
Columbus emphasizes that this Vanya is an American translation, noting an important step in his effort to remove the dust from some of the more somber translations that either put most audiences to sleep or send them kicking and screaming from the theatre.
"American audience’s brains tend to shut down when they hear Russian names," the translator says. "In Uncle Vanya, we’ve made sure that all the characters have one name. That doesn’t mean we’re simplifying the play. We’re understanding what our audience needs to hear. As a translator, you can’t be so slavish and academic that you forget you’re writing for an audience. I’m not a scholar; I’m a theatre artist. A play is a living text–that’s why you need to re-translate plays."
When translating for a contemporary audience, Columbus enmeshes himself not just in the words, but in the entire world of the play and the culture and history surrounding the playwright.
He will soon be plunging full force into translating Elsa Bernstein’s early 20th century drama, Maria Arndt, to debut in January 2002. Tina Landau, who attended Yale with Columbus, is directing this story about a repressed woman who must choose between following her lover or staying true to her duty as a wife and mother.
"With Maria Arndt," explains Columbus, "the choices she faces are still relevant for our times. But the whole social network of her world has to be translated for contemporary audiences. As a translator, I have to be true to the playwright and pay attention to where the writer is taking me. I’m figuring out the writer’s intention and translating it for my audience.
"For Bernstein, I’m exploring the rhythm she’s trying to capture. There are also subtle references to class structure in language that I must be aware of. The translator must express the playwright’s voice. The goal is not to make it sound like it was written by, say, David Hare. You put the words in the actors’ mouths and see what works."
Many people know Columbus as a director. And he has quite a long list of directing credits, including the Goodman Studio, Lifeline, Red Hen, Zebra Crossing and Live Bait (of which he is one of the original founders). But he says with a chuckle, "I am consciously taking off time from directing to re-focus and decide if I want to be a director when I grow up."
Meanwhile, Columbus continues to nurture new talent. For the past five years, as artistic director of Theatre on the Lake, he has decidedly raised the programming bar, taken greater risks and balanced the summer-long remounts of acclaimed theatre productions with a mix of tradition and experimentation.
"I see over 100 shows a year," he says. "The nine shows we bring to Theatre on the Lake represent the best that the city has to offer in terms of range."
Columbus then smilingly describes the semi-open, acoustically challenged space at Fullerton and Lake Shore Drive, "It’s a barn on the lake for God’s sake." So part of his choices are dictated by his confidence in directors who know how to successfully adapt to the space. He cites The Hypocrites’ staging of Chekhov’s The Cherry Orchard as fitting all the criteria.
"Our audience surveys requested more classic plays," says Columbus. "I thought of The Cherry Orchard, and I strongly felt that Sean Graney’s ingenious production needed to be seen by more people. It was also originally staged at The Viaduct, which is like a big barn. So Sean has a natural understanding of the Theatre on the Lake space."
But when you’re performing right on the beach and battling wave runners and picnicking revelers, you can’t always control the noise level. Columbus remembers one performance of Our Town (that he directed through Steppenwolf’s Arts Exchange) at Theatre on the Lake during which someone in a boat nearby suffered a heart attack and had to be air lifted to the hospital.
"Just as Emily was delivering her final speech," says Columbus, "you could hear the helicopter blades outside. It was like M*A*S*H meets Our Town."
When asked why theatre means so much to him, Columbus admits that he doesn’t know why–"It just is."