I’m still reeling over the loss of Alan Mandell last month. He was not only a great artist but a great and generous friend to so many in the arts—witness the outpouring on social media—but in particular in that hothouse of rarest birds, the L.A. underground theatre scene.

I first saw him in my playwriting mentor John Steppling’s The Dream Coast at Taper, Too in 1986. He played a bath-robed, embittered landlord, barely existing on the fringes of Hollywood, looking for his last score. His perfect diction and Steppling’s poetry of the inarticulate made for a heady mix. I saw it six times!

Once I was in the fan club he seemed to be everywhere. As a vampiric ghost (Hamlet’s Father) in Charles Marowitz’s frenetic deconstruction of Hamlet, set in a boxing ring, at Los Angeles Actors’ Theatre. If I remember right, Alan’s “ghost” only appeared on video, but still stole the show every time the screen popped on. When LAAT became LATC, Alan was right there with them, working with Reza Abdoh, Jon Robin Baitz (who had introduced me to Steppling in the first place), et al.

I got brave and introduced myself at the LA Weekly Theater Awards when I’d just won something, and was surprised Alan not only knew me but had seen my work, in particular my signature play I Hate!, about a gay silent film star, which he said would’ve been a good part for him. (Little did we know then that he would get to define the character forever in the film version almost 40 years later.)

Soon after, he and Reza turned up to see one of my shows at a little 21-seat backspace off Hollywood Blvd, bringing with them David Schweizer, who became my directing mentor and a constant collaborator. I worked as David’s assistant on Chuck Mee’s The Oresteia, a huge undertaking that opened the Actor’s Gang’s then-new space on Santa Monica Blvd. in the 1990s. Alan was a guest performer (i.e., not a Gang member) in that show. It was a thrill to tend to him and watch him create a performance from scratch. Master class, anyone? Witness him fielding and filtering David’s sometimes zany direction: “You’re in a windstorm! You’re being blown across the stage!” Alan wasn’t just a trouper, he was game for anything.

I started asking him to be in readings and workshops of my plays. He never turned me down. He would show up at Strasberg on Santa Monica Blvd. or Theater/Theatre on Cahuenga, among other 99-seat or less venues, to play my various reprobate characters. He encouraged me not to keep using the same people in my work, to broaden my horizons—suggesting instead I cast his friends! Including offering up Charlotte Rae to play opposite him.

He came to every one of my plays for decades until he couldn’t, in the past six months. He missed my post-pandemic comeback shows at Zombie Joe’s Underground Theatre in North Hollywood.

Then there’s my Beckett obsession: Before I ever saw him perform Beckett, I saw the production of Happy Days he directed in the basement at LATC, starring an incandescent, doll-like Barbara Bain. It was perfection! I loved him in Waiting for Godot at the Taper, but even more in Endgame at the Kirk Douglas. When he took his curtain call, still shrouded, I got goosebumps. It felt like a goodbye. He did retire from the stage not long after.

During the pandemic, David Schweizer and I decided to make a movie version of my play I Hate!, and lucky for us, Alan came out of retirement and signed on as our star. He also helped us land two actors he championed as co-stars: Rick Cosnett and John Cameron Mitchell. So I got to spend a lot of time with Alan until right before he died. He kept saying, “Hurry up and shoot this before I’m gone!” Ironically David Schweizer died first and left me to finish the film.

Which I have—unfortunately not quite in time for Alan to see the finished product, although he’d seen rough cuts and I think knew how good he was in it. We filmed scenes in his home, which is a treasure trove of memorabilia. I often prompted him to hear my favorite Beckett stories for the millionth time (like the time he directed Godot in prison).

He grilled me after I saw the recent Godot on Broadway starring Keanu Reeves and Alex Winter. He then revealed that the stars and director had come to “kiss his ring” and get his blessing. He wanted to know if they could act or not. I told him the play sounded great. He was dismayed that they’d cut the famous tree from the set. I told him they didn’t exactly cut it; they just set it across the proscenium and referred to it as if it were in the audience. Prompting one of his signature eye rolls—you knew you were in trouble when you got one, but I’ll miss them anyway!

I hope Alan has a good seat in Theatre Heaven. And will be haunting screenings of the movie!

Michael Sargent is a Los Angeles-based playwright whose works include I Hate!, Hollywood Burning, Tarantula, The Projectionist, and Grand Motel.