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Philip Bosco
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Philip Bosco made his stage debut at the age of 13 in a school play called The Fairy Cobbler, playing the role of Machiavelli the Cat. He wore an enormous tail, which was the hit of the show. From that point, he says, it was an actor’s life for him.
by Marc Miller
Some 115 stage and 40 movie roles have followed—even Bosco has lost count—running the gamut from the classics to contemporary drama to peerlessly played comedy. It was his haughty, distraught opera company manager in Ken Ludwig’s Lend Me a Tenor that finally brought him a Best Actor Tony®, in 1989, after nominations for Rape of the Belt (supporting actor), You Never Can Tell, and Heartbreak House (with a subsequent nomination for Moon over Buffalo). Equally at home in commercial or nonprofit theatre, the tall, commanding actor has done some of his favorite work in New York at Lincoln Center, Circle in the Square, and very often at Roundabout. He has been absent from the latter for well over a decade—a simple matter, he says, of temporarily abandoning nonprofit salaries to make enough money in film and on Broadway to feed his wife and seven children.
Roundabout has found the perfect property to lure him back: Twelve Angry Men. In Reginald Rose’s 1954 drama, opening at the American Airlines Theatre on October 28, he is part of an all-star jury, including Tom Aldredge, Boyd Gaines, Larry Bryggman, and Peter Freidman. Bosco is Juror No. 3—the burly, bullying one, whose seething contempt for the defendant is born of a complex emotional makeup and a troubled family life.
When you talk theatre with Bosco, you’re aware that this is an actor’s actor, but there are also traces of the Jersey City truck driver he once was, and the unassuming family man he still is. Front & Center spoke to him by phone one morning in his home, just before rehearsals began.
FRONT & CENTER: I hope we haven’t caught you at an inconvenient time for this interview
Philip Bosco in Roundabout’s 1985 production of Master Class
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PHILIP BOSCO: I was doing kitchen work, and I was a little distracted.
Is this that house in Teaneck that I kept reading about?
BOSCO: No, no, we built a house about seven years ago in a town called Haworth. The sister city of Haworth, England, the home of the Brontes.
Very appropriate, then.
BOSCO: I’m not the minister, but I could function as one.
Anyway, you’ve played them before.
BOSCO: I’ve played just about everything.
You certainly have. I know that Roundabout’s very excited about your return.
BOSCO: I’m excited about being back. It’s been a long time since I’ve been there.
What kept you away so long?
BOSCO: Well, I guess it’s just circumstances. I did a number of Broadway shows and got kind of out of the loop of doing nonprofit theatres for awhile. With the move to Haworth and doing some movies, we managed to get a little money, which we’ve never had before. I worked all the time, I mean, but it was sort of hand-to-mouth.
What about this one, Twelve Angry Men, brought you back?
BOSCO: I’m very excited. I remember the movie, of course, very well—a great film—and have always been impressed with it. I remember it fondly with all the marvelous performances, and the debut of Sidney Lumet, as I remember, for a feature film. And I didn’t realize that it was possible to do it on stage—not possible, but that any thought was given to it—until about a year ago. I got a call from Todd Haimes, I guess, or Scott Ellis, about doing a reading. I said, "Are they going to do this on the stage?" I thought it might have been a film or something. They said, Yes, we are thinking of doing it, but it’s just a reading, so we’d like to have you. So they did, and we were very happy to do it—"we" meaning a lot of the actors.
So some of the people now cast were at the reading too?
BOSCO: Not too many, but I do know some of the guys in the company. Boyd Gaines, who plays Juror No. 8, is an old buddy of mine—I think I was in the first show he did in New York, or one of the first. It was a production of A Month in the Country, way back at Roundabout.
Fifteen years or so?
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Philip Bosco and cast in Roundabout’s 1983 production of Ah, Wilderness!
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BOSCO: Yes, or more. I’ve been working at Roundabout for 20 or 30 years, however long it’s been around. This starred Tammy Grimes and her daughter, Amanda Plummer, and it was the first time, I think, Amanda had ever been in a New York theatre. Boyd, as I remember, played the juvenile in that show.
He plays a lot of musical roles—would Twelve Angry Men be a stretch for him?
BOSCO: No, I don’t think you can say it’s a stretch, I just think he got lucky and got into a couple of musicals that were very successful like She Loves Me and Contact. But he can straddle both worlds. He’s going back to his first calling as a straight actor.
Have you worked with the director, Scott Ellis, before?
BOSCO: Yes. Not in an actual production; we’ve done readings. My connection with Roundabout goes back, really, to Todd. This is, I think, my 13th or 14th show for Roundabout. I have worked at all of the venues they have occupied except the one under the supermarket on 26th Street. I started with them when it was on 23rd Street, in the movie theatre.
I didn’t know Todd Haimes went back that far, either.
BOSCO: He came in when they were on 23rd Street. Most of the shows I did were on 23rd Street. I did some beautiful shows with Roundabout. Two that pop into my mind were Misalliance, the one I enjoyed the most, and Master Class, a show I did over at Union Square with Werner Klemperer and Len Cariou. That was great fun.
Getting back to Twelve Angry Men, what’s your initial take on your character, Juror No. 3?
BOSCO: He’s the antagonist, the fly in the ointment. He and Juror No. 8, of course, are directly opposite in their views. It’s the core of the conflict. Good against bad, if that’s not too black-and-white. My character is the emotional, unsympathetic brute, as it were. To be blunt, you might compare him with the Bush Administration.
“That’s the whole beauty of acting on the stage, for my money, and for other actors I’m familiar with—the creative process of rehearsal is where all the juice is, and the joy.”
How do you go about trying to humanize a character like that?
BOSCO: I guess it’s called acting! I don’t know the procedure, exactly. When actors are asked to explain their craft, it’s always very difficult to put into words. You just try to stick to the plot, and as the director guides you, stick to what the intent of the author is. Then you bring your own personality to it, your own twists.
Do you ever think about stuff that isn’t on the page—what Juror No. 3’s wife is like, his house?
BOSCO: Oh, to a great extent. But that comes in rehearsal. After you read with the company and start getting up on your feet and doing it, things surface. That’s the whole beauty of acting on the stage, for my money, and for other actors I’m familiar with—the creative process of rehearsal is where all the juice is, and the joy. Once you do it, you get it together, you’ve got to try it out, you do your previews and your opening, you do your best, and if it’s successful you play out the run. And then, of course, it has become a job—a good job, a job you love to do, but it’s work. The creation of it is the joy, and that’s what rehearsal is all about.
Lee J. Cobb played your role in the movie, George C. Scott in the remake—how do you block out a previous performance when you’re creating your own?
BOSCO: I don’t remember ever seeing the whole version that Scott did, so I really can’t relate to that. I thought Lee Cobb was wonderful in the part. But that’s such a long time ago, and I’m not Lee J. Cobb.
In previous interviews, you’re quoted as saying you generally don’t do commercials or voiceovers.
BOSCO: I think it demeans actors to have to sell soap or toilet paper or whatever. But I came to the realization that my family was suffering a little. My actor friends used to applaud me and say, oh, wonderful principle, never doing commercials—wonderful principle! But they were making all the money. So I figured, let me see if I can work this thing out. The commercial people had been after me for a long time, and I finally said, all right, I’ll do voiceovers, nothing on camera, and I won’t do anything unless I approve of the product.
You’ve talked about wanting to play Lear. Is that still a goal?
Philip Bosco with Dennis Ryan and Carol Burnett in Moon over Buffalo (1995)
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BOSCO: No, I think not. I’ve been asked to do it a number of times over the years, and for one reason or another I didn’t because it wasn’t right at the time. And then when I felt it might be right, somebody else would come up and do it—Jason Robards, Chris Plummer. I’m going to be 74, and I don’t think there’s much room left for me to play Lear, except maybe for a four-performance run.
Well, are there any other juicy parts for older actors you hunger after?
BOSCO: Hunger after, no, but there are roles I wouldn’t mind getting into—mostly in Shaw, some Shakespeare. I’d like to play Falstaff —that’d be fun, I’ve never done that one.
Are there any parts that you were offered that you really regretted turning down?
BOSCO: A number. My wife is a literary manager and could fill you in on that. I’m not the best person to choose roles or plays. I mean, I know the great plays, but when I’m sent a new script, I don’t have the view of it that my wife has. She can get a broad view, scan the whole vision. I look at it from my own narrow point of view—do I have a curtain speech, how many lines do I have. So I can’t see the forest for the trees; my wife can. She has asked me to do a number of plays that I’ve turned down, regretfully. Painting Churches. Plenty. Oh, there are far too many to remember. My wife is always reminding me, by the way, with a certain amount of glee…
And affection...
BOSCO: Oh, absolutely. We’re going to have been married 48 years in January.
And what is the grandchild count at this point?
BOSCO: Fifteen!
Congratulations. Is anyone else in the family in the theatre?
BOSCO: No. My youngest daughter, who’s now an attorney, would have been a good actress, I think. And my youngest son went to film school and was interested in becoming a director and/or screenwriter. But he married and has three gorgeous children. He had to make a living.
Well, we’re glad you ended up doing what you’re doing.
BOSCO: Me too!
Mark Miller is a deputy chief copy editor at Business Week and writes frequently about the theatre.
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