YOUNG JEAN LEE: At the top of this script, there’s an author’s note that it should be played without any irony, as sincerely as possible. That note is at the top of all your plays. Why?

THOMAS BRADSHAW: I’m trying to prevent people from turning the play into a cartoon. A lot of things some people would consider to be outlandish happen in my plays, though I don’t think they’re outlandish.

If it becomes so outlandish that people say “that’s not a believable character”—that’s the danger, right? Can you say what your relationship to naturalism is? Are those characters supposed to be believable? 

That’s a very complicated question. When people say, “That doesn’t look like reality”—what are we really talking about? We aren’t talking about the reality of our world. We’re talking about reality as it’s typically experienced in the theatre. People do the craziest things in real life, and we understand that. But when we go into the theatre suddenly people act in these predictable ways that are rooted in a psychology that everyone can understand. I find that to be baffling. I’ve known my mother all my life and I have no idea why she does half the things she does. I feel like we spend a lot of time in our personal lives trying to figure out the motivations of the people who are closest to us. 

A criticism of my own work that I’m always struggling with is, “You’re trying to be shocking”—even when I’m not. Your plays do shock people. Are you trying to shock?

No. When my work first started getting produced, I was shocked that people were shocked by it.As far as I was concerned, I was giving a true representation of the world. (Laughs.) Albeit a distilled and…heightened view of the world. 

If your dream situation isn’t to have everyone leaving the theatre because they’re so shocked and offended, then what is the intended effect on your audience?

(Long pause.) The first question is, really, why do we write what we write? I see myself as filling a void, kind of, in terms of what you see when you go to the theatre. I think lots of people deny the true reality of the world we live in. I’ve always felt I was seeing something that people couldn’t see in themselves or each other. That’s part of why I write. I’m not trying to deliver any sort of moral message. I really just want people to investigate reality.

In this particular play, The Ashes—as in all of your plays—the hero is kind of an asshole. (Laughter.) And the villains are incredibly sympathetic. So…why?

I think what you’re talking about is more pronounced in The Ashes than any of my other plays. That relationship between the “hero” and the “villains” was one of the driving forces behind the play. I knew people would think immediately that they’re supposed to identify with the character of Peter. Then he engages in action after action that makes him more and more reprehensible. On the other hand, there’s no malice in anything Peter’s doing; he’s following his id. With the characters of Katrin and Michael, you see a couple of neo-Nazis and you think, well, they have to be bad. But I’ve taken great pains to humanize those characters. 

So what would you say to someone who asks, “Why can’t I sympathize with the black hero and be mad at the neo-Nazis? Why are you making me do this?”

I’m honestly a bit disturbed by this idea of sympathetic characters. I don’t understand why this is something we aspire to. Audiences can identify with all kinds of characters, not just ones constructed to pull at their heartstrings. They might be able to relate more to unsympathetic characters.

But in terms of a political argument, how is it not offensive to show sympathetic neo-Nazi characters? Obviously, I know you are not pro-neo-Nazi, but some people might think you are.

You’re right, people say dumb things like that. “He’s trying to promote neo-Nazism!”

“He’s trying to say black people are assholes!” I have heard people say things like that about your work.

It’s kind of cliché, what I’m about to say, but it’s very true. I’m genuinely interested in what makes people tick. And I don’t think anyone is evil. I think that all people basically think they’re good, and in one way or another everyone’s actions stem from this belief. 

It makes me think of something you’ve said about your other plays: Everyone in your audience knows what’s right or wrong. They don’t need a morality play spelling out why it’s wrong. 

Absolutely. So I’m focusing on something else entirely. When someone does something we find repugnant, we go to this place not only of, “Oh, I would never do something like that,” but even, “I am incapable of doing something like that.” I honestly believe we’re all capable of anything if we’re placed in the right circumstances. If I were white and born into a southern slave-owning family in 1802…you know, I think there’s a good chance I would think slavery was a fine institution. I would have a completely different set of beliefs than I have right now. That’s part of what I’m doing when I portray these characters—I’m really trying to get into their shoes. 

Moving on: People think all the time that you are your main character. What’s up with that? And do people ever think your white characters are you?

No! That’s what’s weird. More than one person has implied the character of Peter in The Ashes is essentially me, and I think that’s simply because he’s a young black male artist. No one thinks that I’m any of my gay or white characters, yet I wrote them too! I think part of it is the “reality” trend we have in our culture right now. Reality TV is rampant and we’re flooded with autobiographies and memoirs. That’s what audiences seem to want. I guess people assume we are “writing what we know” in a very literal way. Of course bits of my life serve as inspiration, but none of my plays are autobiographical. What perplexes me is that people seem to be picking and choosing what attributes might belong to me. My wife would have murdered me by now if I were anything like the character of Peter!

I feel like it’s a sign of freedom when a black character doesn’t have to be a saint. 

We’ve fallen into this trap where anytime black characters are presented, in some way they have to be a celebration of the black experience. Often when you see black characters portrayed in the theatre, it’s almost like the writer is saying, “I bet you think this one thing, and I’m going to show you the complete opposite and change your mind.”

And I don’t think it works, really. You look and it’s not a believable person.

In the theatre you’d be hard-pressed to find a negative portrayal of a black character. It always has to be tempered with something positive. I don’t think that this is limited just to black characters, though.

That’s true in theatre? Really?

Oh yeah, in theatre we’re very sensitive. I don’t think film and TV are concerned about it.

I agree about film and TV. I’m surprised to hear you think theatre gives a shit about that.

I do, I do. I feel like most theatres are quite obsessed with being politically correct, at least in America. I’ve had a lot of conversations with artistic directors about this idea of message—what kind of message is the play sending, and what is the audience supposed to take away from this experience? Theatres seem very concerned about their audience walking away with the wrong message, and they try to present work in which the message is unmistakable. What some people find difficult about my work is that I don’t have a specific message I’m trying to push on the audience. I like to leave space for people to bring their own interpretations to the experience. 

Young Jean Lee is the artistic director of Young Jean Lee’s Theater Company and a 2011 Guggenheim Fellow. Her plays include Songs of the Dragons Flying to Heaven, The Shipment, Church, Lear and We’re Gonna Die.