Matt Street: Hello, Josh, how are you?
Josh Feye: Hey, Matt. I’m doing well. How are you?
MS: Good. Just taking a little walk, running a couple of errands for the thing tonight.
JF: Oh, nice! So we’re talking about Adult Film: The First Four Years which is a theatrical retrospective happening this weekend. Four years isn’t that long, but it does feel like, culturally and theatrically, there is a lot to look back on.
MS: It’s crazy. It’s the day after it opened, and last night was really wonderful. It was a mix of company members, people who had been there from the start and maybe stepped back, alongside newer people. It was a very emotional experience to get everyone in the room. Marcus (Maddox) made a slideshow of photos that didn’t get printed but that we thought were beautiful. People put headphones on, listened to music, and watched the photos go by. A lot of people told me how emotionally affecting it was, how much it made them look back on what we’ve done and feel proud. When you’re in it day to day, little things get in the way. You get frustrated, and the minutia becomes overwhelming. But when you step back and look at it as a whole, you realize this has done something. The fact that it’s existed for four years is an achievement. And we’ve put on three to four plays a year since 2022, which is crazy. It was a really wonderful experience.
JF: I often talk to Ryan about how what you’ve all created feels like another world, a place where people can do roles that might have been denied to them for financial or educational reasons. Do you feel like you’ve created another world?
MS: Absolutely. We talk a lot internally about a working-class ethos and creating access for people who’ve been denied it because of their financial situation or status at birth. I think we’ve created a place where people can genuinely express themselves and understand themselves as artists outside of a cookie-cutter or BFA/MFA model, outside of professionalizing in that traditional way. It’s about finding your own voice rather than checking boxes, being a good student or a good soldier. There are people who work professionally and do great work, but what we do is often what we actually want to be doing. We trust each other. It’s a community with an open, accepting ethos across backgrounds, but especially for people who need a home and can’t afford one.
JF: For me, coming out of the pandemic, it felt like a breath of fresh air to see people making theatre focused on beauty and exploring the irrational parts of human nature. That’s why I’ve always appreciated Adult Film. So you’re looking back, but also asking where it’s going. Where do you see the company going?
MS: I think we’re trying to stay at the cutting edge of producing. We’ve started conversations with a filmmaker who works in microbudget production, asking how we can build workshops, classes, and maybe make things ourselves. No one’s making a Marvel movie here, and no one wants to. So what do we actually aspire to do? I think it’s getting to the core of what it is to be human right now, and doing that honestly within our constraints. Instead of seeing limitations as a problem, we embrace them. A lot of great 20th-century artists worked that way. Cassavetes had no money and made things through sheer determination. That mindset feels even more necessary now. With digital tools, people can make anything, but we also want to keep strengthening the community. It took us time to realize that we’re not just a training center, we’re building a real community of like-minded people who want to work outside the usual systems. We’re trying to find a way of working that’s more fulfilling, where things aren’t locked in too early. We want to push what it means to be safely unsafe, where people trust each other enough to take risks, knowing someone will catch them. That’s really important.
JF: That’s the foundation of artistic creation.
MS: Yeah, and when you watch professional theatre, it can feel like five great solo performances instead of one cohesive piece. Everyone is strong individually, but they don’t always feel like they’re in the same play. We’re trying to create something where distinct individuals are fully in the same world, sharing a language and pushing each other. That trust lets people take bigger swings, which is something I think is missing in a lot of art right now.
JF: A lot of people are throwing the word “existential” around a lot right now, especially artistically and societally. Do you feel that with Adult Film?
MS: It depends on what you mean by existential.
JF: I mean, questions about where we’re going and how we start a new chapter.
MS: Oh, Yeah. Neoliberalism is breaking down, and people are asking what comes next. I don’t know if it’s an artist’s job to answer that, but it’s definitely important to ask. We’ve been asking those questions since the beginning. What does it mean to live in this world? How do we move forward in a culture that constantly pulls at our attention and commodifies everything? And as artists, we’re in a position to question that and imagine something else.
JF: Theatre is so ephemeral, and you’re also a photographer. Many of your photographs are featured in the retrospective. What’s it like to capture something so fleeting?
MS: It’s joyous. Tarkovsky says something like the theatre disappears, it’s like sculpting in snow, it melts. Every night is different. Capturing it feels like preserving something beautiful. You get to show people what they created, which is a gift. There’s also a sense of play in it. I get lucky because there are so many beautiful moments and bold choices. I’ve shot a lot of the promo as well, and it’s amazing to look back at people over time and see how they’ve changed. I always want the photos to feel like something you stumbled upon.
JF: And it becomes part of theatrical history. How do you think people will see this post-COVID theatrical era, historically speaking?
MS: I hope they see that despite how awful COVID was, it lit a fire under people. It made us realize how much we need each other. The only way to grow as a person and an artist is through community, through people who challenge you and support you. That, to me, is the story of post-COVID theatre. You can’t do it alone.
JF: Beautiful. Can I ask you some Dionysian Dream questions?
MS: Yes, please.
JF: Do you have a favorite film about the theatre?
MS: Yes, I mean, it’s probably a tie between Waiting for Guffman and Vanya on 42nd Street because they capture the duality of doing this ridiculous thing that we do. But I’ll sneak one in that isn’t necessarily about theater, though it is about performance: Cold War by Paweł Pawlikowski. It’s a beautiful film about a woman who’s a folk singer and a man who’s a composer and musician. It’s set around the time of the Iron Curtain, but it’s really this incredible love story while also dealing with what it is to be traveling performers and artists. It’s a really beautiful film.
JF: Oh, the description calls it “an impossible romance.”
MS: Yes, exactly, which is also what it is to be in love with theatre. It’s a constant fight because people are always saying we don’t need it anymore, that we have movies now. They’ve been saying that for a hundred years. It’s fascinating that we’re still having this conversation, especially now that cinemas are struggling. Filmmakers who love film are saying we have to preserve the moviegoing experience or else what’s the point. I feel the same way about theatre. There was that comment from Timothée Chalamet about ballet and opera being dead art forms, which isn’t true. Those forms are these overwhelming, communal experiences. Opera is massive and chaotic and beautiful, almost like being in the presence of something divine. It’s overwhelming in the way an old cathedral is. And ballet is the opposite in a way, it’s about precision. It’s seeing what the human body can do at its absolute limit. Theatre is similar. It’s about creating life in front of people. Actors have historically been seen as tricksters, people who can become someone else and convince you of it. That’s a beautiful thing, and we need it. What’s missing now is that people want you to stay exactly who you are at all times, without stretching beyond that. Theatre lets you see yourself in ways you didn’t expect. It makes you feel like you can be more, and I think that’s important.
JF: That was very well said.
MS: Thank you.
JF: Is there a theatre artist, living or dead, you’d love to have a night on the town with?
MS: Probably Stella Adler. I had a teacher in Louisville who trained directly with her, and the stories were incredible. She sounded like a titan. And then, even though I think he was difficult personally, Kazan. I’d love to talk to him because he really knew what he was doing and approached it like a journeyman. I love that attitude. It’s that duality again. You have someone like Kazan, grounded and practical, striving for greatness through simplicity. And then you have Stella, who’s like, dream bigger, be enormous, rise to the occasion. Those two impulses are what I’m always trying to balance, how to be expansive while also being simple.
JF: For my final question, what are your dreams for the future of the American theater?
MS: I hope New York, and this might sound strange, loses its position as the financial capital of the world so that people can actually live and breathe and make the kind of art the city has always been known for. Theatre happens all over the country, and there are incredible regional theaters, though many are struggling or gone because of lack of funding. But New York has always been a place where new work is born, not just in theater but in politics, literature, and performance. American communism started in New York, and American acting as we know it comes out of places like the Group Theatre and the Actors Studio in the 1940s. That legacy is still shaping what we do now. I hope New York can return to being a place of true creation, where people can discover something beyond themselves. I also think artists used to be in more conversation with each other. Painters worked on ballets, poets collaborated with musicians. Now it feels like everyone is isolated. I find that frustrating. I’d love to see more crossover again. Musicians working on plays, designers creating costumes, painters building sets. At Adult Film, everyone learns how to do everything. People step outside their roles, and that kind of growth is important. It’s not about titles, it’s about stretching into something unfamiliar.
Adult Film: The First Four Years ran April 16th-18th
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