The West Wing star takes the stage at Abrons Arts Center.
Eternally known for his Emmy-winning turn as Toby Ziegler on The West Wing and his recent seven-season stint on The Good Doctor, Richard Schiff is making a highly anticipated return to the stage in the new drama Becoming Eve, a presentation of New York Theatre Workship at Abrons Arts Center. Though many fans associate him with his extensive screen career, Schiff’s artistic roots are firmly planted in New York theater, where he got his start directing and acting before heading to Hollywood.
In Becoming Eve, the story of a Hasidic Jewish Rabbi who comes out as trans, Schiff takes on a complex and deeply personal role, one that reconnects him with his family’s past and challenges him in unexpected ways. We caught up with him before a rehearsal to talk about his journey back to the stage, his unexpected path to the production, and what makes Becoming Eve so compelling.
This conversation has been condensed and edited for clarity.
How are you doing?
I’m sitting outside at Cooper Union before rehearsal, and I was enjoying the quiet of the neighborhood until about a minute ago.
It’s lovely over there.
It’s pretty nice. I worked on East 4th Street many years ago back in my theater days and it was a little different back then.
What, at like La MaMa?
Not in La MaMa. I went to La MaMa, but New York Theatre Ensemble was there, and there were some other theaters on that street. I knew a bartender at Phebe’s, so I was able to eat for free quite a bit. He’s not there anymore.
So, this is like a blast from the past for you.
Very much so. It’s nice to be back.
I feel like a lot of people don’t realize that you were a New York theater guy before you started in TV.
No, they don’t remember that. Once I decided to pursue this, I ended up doing TV and film pretty quickly. I didn’t start until my 30s, so I’ve never gotten to where some friends of mine, and people in the show like Brandon Uranowitz and Tommy Dorfman, are. The theater’s their home. I have work to do as far as that goes.
How did Becoming Eve come your way?
Recently, I’ve been offered a bunch of plays, and in New York, no less. I used to get offered them in London all the time. They like me over there. It takes a lot for me to do a play. For personal reasons, it’s an enormous effort for me. It’s not just the workload, but it’s dealing with the nerves.
I’ve been flexing the muscles of short-term memory coming off a seven-year run on a TV show [The Good Doctor], and I didn’t want to take anything for a while. But this came along and it’s one of those plays where I go, “I don’t know if I can walk away from it.” It’s beautifully written. I asked a couple of very dear friends of mine and they immediately said I should do it. And I said “Why?” and they said, “Because it makes you so uncomfortable.”
I did a workshop in December not knowing they expected me to continue with it. They said specifically “Don’t worry about doing the play later.” I assumed they had another actor and I was filling in. I was happy to do that — I love doing workshops and lending a helping hand, so to speak. I did it, I enjoyed it, and then a month later I get an email saying, “We’re so thrilled that you’re joining us.” Who told you that? [Laughs]
What sold you?
It’s sometimes so arbitrary. Like, only doing a piece because I’ve always wanted to see New Orleans.
A lot of it for me is entourage. Because of the workshop, I developed a real respect for Tyne Rafaeli, the director, and Emil Weinstein, the playwright, and I really enjoyed the process. They’re both very sensitive to the material and open and collaborative. I have to fight for that on TV. To just walk into a room where it’s like, “What are the concerns? What are the issues? What do you think works and what do you think doesn’t?” All of those very basic, simple questions are very welcoming to my ears.
I’ve always spoken my mind, and I’ve noticed that when the work isn’t quite there yet, the writers get defensive. I often say out loud that I’ve never met a great writer, including Shakespeare, who didn’t appreciate a better idea. It’s never happened before. A great writer is always looking. There’s a reason why poets sometimes get very depressed. There’s no such thing as the perfect sentence.
I’m loving the fact that these two collaborators are so smart and so ready to find the best way into the material. I have great respect for that.
Tell me about your way into your character.
My grandfather was Orthodox, and he was a gangster. He wasn’t Hasidic, but he put on tefillin every morning, all that stuff. I have no connection to the Hasidic community, but they came from a place not far from where my grandfather’s father came from. [The character’s] way of looking at the world is completely different from mine, but I’m beginning to understand it a little more.
An Orthodox gangster. That’s fascinating.
He was in Meyer Lansky’s group, Murder, Inc. Aaron Sorkin actually used it on West Wing. I had pitched that Toby’s father is somebody he’s ashamed of. I was thinking of someone like Roy Cohn, and he ended up making my father a former assassin. My grandfather was just a bookkeeper, but he was incorporated [into The West Wing], and the opening sequence was all in Yiddish. I think that’s why Aaron loved the idea so much, so he could do a scene in Yiddish.
But anyway, that’s my grandfather. He was the person I was closest to, and there’s a scene in this play where I’m teaching my son, which replicates a scene that I used to have with my grandfather when I was very young. I was one of three boys, but I always wanted to go visit him before everybody else so I could have more time.
There’s a connection I have that has been severed, I think, from my history for whatever reason, whether it’s assimilation over the course of generations or whatever happens to immigrants over the course of a century and a half. So, this play is tapping into something fascinating and emotional for me.