Interview: Dulé Hill and Daniel J. Watts on Their Electrifying Performances in Lights Out

In Patricia MacGregor and Colman Domingo’s “fever dream” of a play, Lights Out, now running at New York Theatre Workshop, audiences get to witness one of theater’s most spectacular duets: a remarkable song-and-dance version of “I’m Gonna Sit Right Down and Write Myself a Letter,” performed by the play’s main subject Nat King Cole (Dulé Hill) and his close friend Sammy Davis Jr. (Daniel J. Watts).

TheaterMania recently spoke with Hill and Watts about this number, their preparation for playing these legendary stars, and the importance of reminding viewers about the blatant racism these men faced during the careers.

This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.

Dulé, tell me about your preparation to play Nat King Cole?

We started working on this show in 2016, and when I got cast, I started listening even more carefully to Mr. Cole to see how he approaches words and carries his notes as a singer. And I later worked with Liz Himmelstein, a wonderful vocal coach, to approach how he speaks. Doing that gave me space to do my dialogue properly. Eventually, I worked on small details, so that his eyebrows, his lips and his face resembled mine. Most importantly, I read everything about his life journey. I even drove to Hancock Park to look at his house, where they burned a cross on his lawn and poisoned his dog, but I didn’t stand there too long because I didn’t want to be seen as some random black man standing on the corner. I felt being there would help me connect to his energy. And to this day, I have a whole playlist of songs and interviews by Nat that I listen to on YouTube most nights that I keep on even while I’m asleep, so Nat enters my subconscious. Most of all, I also ask God to impart on me what I need to know and what to do.

Daniel, what was your reaction to being asked to play Sammy Davis Jr.?

My first reaction was unmitigated fear. Sammy has been an idol of mine since I was about 6 when I watched him as the caterpillar in the TV movie of Alice in Wonderland. So even before I started this project, I had seen all the clips and read all the books. Still, I originally told Patricia “absolutely not.” I said no one should play him. But when they told me Dulé was going to play Nat, things changed. We had done After Midnight together, and he convinced me to do the first production of the show. I am so overjoyed that I changed my mind. I fell in love with character—who is really just a figment of Nat’s imagination—and with the piece itself. I also learned I had been studying Sammy more than I realized. He was always part of my being. I was always playing him just in my living room—and I still do.

Dulé, the show is an autobiography of sorts, but it is also an examination of racism in the 1950s. How important was it to you to impart that message?

Art is powerful and can affect change in allowing us to connect with people in ways that mere words cannot. We can create a pathway to create empathy through a specific experience. I think Lights Out shows us that history can repeat itself, and even if you can’t change yesterday, you can change today and tomorrow. That’s the point; otherwise, why should I do eight shows a week? We come to realize Nat King Cole isn’t that different than anyone else; he had to deal with racism in both LA and in New York. What he did back then allows me to be here today. Fortunately, I don’t have to fight his battles; I just have to fight my own battles.

Daniel, what do you think about the issues of racism examined by this project?

There’s no question that the racism in the 1950s still echoes today. People have said things to me, to Colman, to Dulé that I don’t want to repeat. What’s so important to me about Lights Out is that it specifically examines the cost of being a black artist and, even more importantly, being the first to do anything, like Nat did with his TV show. The objective of artists like Nat and Sammy was to knock down the door and have people come in after them.

Dulé, let’s talk about that tap dance with Daniel. It was amazing, but a bit unexpected since dancing wasn’t one of Nat’s known skills. How did it come about and how do you feel about the end result?

OK, I willed it into existence. I come from the great lineage of Gregory Hines and Hinton Battle and Harold Nicholas, who I met was 10, and I always want to be able to honor them. And luckily, Patricia and Colman try to use all the gifts in the room. I had hurt my foot and was in a boot during the initial readings of the piece, but I couldn’t help using my feet no matter what. So, we decided we had to figure out how to make Nat dancing work. And it works because the whole show is a fever dream, so it doesn’t matter if Nat is doing something he couldn’t do in real life. It’s just a different way of expression for him. I am grateful they found this way, and I love the end result, thanks in large part to our brilliant choreographer, Jared Grimes, who is a top-level tap dancer himself.

What are your thoughts about the dance, Daniel?

I was nervous going up against Dulé. He never holds back; he is always reaching and digging. But I am so grateful to Jared, who I’ve known for a long time, that he left each of us moments of improvisation, especially in our solos. Every night is different. Jared doesn’t want the dance to feel stale, so he’s OK with what we do, as long as we honor the basic choreography. The improvisational nature of the dance makes it more dangerous; in fact, we and the audience often wonder if it’s going off the rails or if we’re even going to make it to the end. It’s like a roller coaster!