THE CATHARSIS OF HORROR

BY OLIVIA O’CONNOR, DRAMATURG FOR THE ANTS

OLIVIA O’CONNOR: You grew up in the Bay Area. How does your experience in that city— and your experience watching the city change over the past decades—show up in The Ants?

RAMIZ MONSEF: I have a really complicated relationship with the Bay. I love it so much and also really don’t love what it’s become.

As a kid, San Francisco always felt liberating. It’s not a place that feels like that anymore, and that breaks my heart. It’s prohibitively expensive to exist there unless you’re a millionaire. I really see how life has left that city. And it’s because we put our faith in the almighty dollar rather than putting our faith in what built that city in the first place, which is the people.

I started writing The Ants when I was doing a show at ACT [American Conservatory Theater]. We were at The Strand on Market Street, and I was staying right around the corner, in the heart of the Tenderloin. Being there and seeing the huge disparity of wealth was shocking. It was shocking to step over bodies to walk into the Twitter building. It seemed ridiculous to me that there was all this money and we couldn’t help people.

OO: How long have you lived in LA?

RM: I’ve lived here about eight years, but I’ve been in a different financial situation here. As an adult, I lived in the Bay between [the ages of] 18 and 24, during and after my time at Cornish College of the Arts in Seattle. During those years, I was dirt poor. I was selling CDs to eat. I was selling weed. I was piecing together whatever money I could to pay my rent and have food.

I haven’t had that same experience during my years in LA, but I still see economic disparity across the city. That is the reason why I don’t specify a city in this play. I don’t want anyone to be like, oh, that takes place in Chicago. That’s not here. Or that takes place in LA; that’s not here. It’s everywhere. It’s in different forms, but this is a problem everywhere. And it’s a problem to do with capitalism.

OO: Our audiences are going to experience [that disparity] coming to the Geffen to watch this play: just walking from the parking garage to the theater.

RM: Yeah. It’s so easy for people to distance themselves from it or throw out [explanations] like mental health. But I’ve known homeless people; I’ve been friends with homeless people by name. And being that poor would make you crazy too, you know? I wish we were all a little bit better at recognizing the difference between somebody who is dangerous and a threat and somebody who is just trying to check with the world if they exist anymore.

OO: The Ants is a horror play. Talk to me about your history with that genre.

RM: I love horror. I love to be scared. It’s a kind of catharsis to be scared, as it is to laugh.

Horror is having a bit of a moment. I think it’s because we are all dealing with some very pent up and complex emotions about the last few years. The last six, seven years have been horrific for a lot of people. We’re looking for some way to get that out of us.

When I was a kid, I was terrified of the “Thriller” video. And then I found a VHS of the making of “Thriller” where it’s Rick Baker putting on the zombie makeup and zombies having a great time off camera. All of a sudden, it wasn’t scary anymore. It was just fascinating. And then my obsession with monsters and creatures began.

OO: You’ve cited Night of the Living Dead, which makes a cameo in this play, as a source of inspiration. What about that movie spoke to you?

RM: It was one of the early [horror movies] that hooked me. Those three actually: Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead, and Day of the Dead are brilliant, because they are a perfect example of horror as metaphor.

Night of the Living Dead came out in ’68. Our country was going through some things in 1968. [The movie is] very much to do with race. Dawn of the Dead is about consumerism. Day of the Dead is about the military-industrial complex. They are three movies that are a perfect example of horror as social commentary and how this really is an elevated art form that masquerades as lowbrow entertainment.

OO: How has your experience as an actor influenced your approach to writing?

RM: Working in this business is a little like working in a restaurant. I would hope that whoever the artistic director is, whoever’s managing the restaurant, at one point also washed dishes and mopped the floors. So that they know how every little piece in that machine works.

The only pieces I have are being an actor. But luckily, as a writer, most of what I’m doing is giving a thing to an actor. So I do feel like I have a leg up in terms of knowing what I as an actor would want from a writer. I also feel very lucky that I have worked with some really great playwrights. I’ve gotten to watch them and their process.

I always say that a good play is an emotional map that you give to an actor. All they should need to do is follow the instructions. I want to give actors all of the clues and all of the directions that they need to get to where they need to go.

OO: You and [director] Pirronne Yousefzadeh have worked together before. How did you start collaborating?

RM: We met a long time ago at UCSB, and then we reconnected when she did the apprentice show at Actors Theatre of Louisville years ago. Pirronne’s show was exquisitely directed. At the time, I didn’t realize that we had met before. I just was like, I want to know you because I want to know other dope artists. And then she reminded my forgetful ass that we actually had met a number of years ago.

So we reconnected in Louisville and then I wrote 3 Farids. And immediately I was like, do you want to direct a reading of this? It was one of those collaborations that was like, yes, of course. She gets what I’m trying to say, and there’s a very natural balance: we listen to each other; we respect each other. I feel like we’re both in it for the same reason, and that’s to make good art in a world that’s really hard to make good art in.

OO: The Ants came out of The Writers’ Room and was then developed at the Ojai Playwrights Conference. Coming into this process, the first full production, what are you hoping to learn or discover about the play?

RM: I guess we’ll learn if it works or not. I really want to make people uncomfortable. My favorite movies to experience are ones where I walk out and I feel different. That’s what I’m hoping for. I hope it doesn’t just feel like another fun night at the theater. I hope it really is hard for people to shake.

To read the full interview with Ramiz, visit geffenplayhouse.org/blog.

I’ve been working tirelessly to raise awareness about diabetes and its contributions to kidney disease, heart disease and more. It’s plagued my family for generations.

I am thrilled that UCLA Health is partnering with the Geffen because there is nothing like the arts to help address situations that need our attention, like health and wellness. The performing arts, like dance and theater, are transformative. I applaud UCLA Health and the Geffen Playhouse for coming together to help people.

—DEBBIE ALLEN

actress, dancer, choreographer, director, producer, and Geffen Playhouse alum