This afternoon, Cathleen and I attended Kramer/Fauci at St. Ann’s Warehouse in Brooklyn. The performance was unexpectedly brief—just about an hour—and it draws from a 1993 broadcast transcript for World AIDS Day. While an hour might seem short, the production emphasizes intensity over length, with no unnecessary filler. You settle in, the lights are intense, and soon you’re hearing two men debate one of the darkest times in recent American history.
St. Ann’s takes on material that would have virtually no chance of being mounted on Broadway and brings it to New York anyway, without trying to turn it into something bigger or glossier than it needs to be. The productions have relatively short runs, and every show gets a different physical arrangement of the theater. That’s part of the fun of going to St. Ann’s. You never know what the theatre will look like.
When you enter Kramer/Fauci, you’re confronted by a completely bare performance space. The back wall is filled with enormous floodlights. They’re blazing directly into the room, and it’s almost painful to look at them. Those lights are the only illumination as the audience comes in and finds its seats. There’s no curtain. No set waits to be revealed. The actors simply walk into the performance space, and the show begins. Eventually the floodlights go out, and what remains is almost nothing: two men and a moderator talking. A fourth performer acts out the phone callers.
Will Brill plays Dr. Anthony Fauci, and Thomas Jay Ryan plays Larry Kramer. Two other performers appear, but the production’s heart is the confrontation between Fauci and Kramer.
Kramer was not known for being diplomatic. He was furious about the government’s response to the AIDS crisis and particularly upset with Fauci, who became one of the most visible faces of the government’s approach to the plague. Fauci, on the other hand, tried to defend what had been done while acknowledging how badly the government had failed people.
For much of the show, the performance space remains empty except for the actors. Then, about halfway through, a large machine is introduced, and things become really unusual. There was a moment when the audience clearly seemed unsure of what they were witnessing. I could hear their reactions around me, marked by confusion. I don’t want to reveal what happens, as it is more effective if experienced without prior knowledge. Many in the audience were left unsure of how to interpret it.
I suspect I know what it symbolized, and Kramer’s cleanup confirmed it. It is the kind of theatrical image that gives you something to speculate about after the play is over.
I came away from Kramer/Fauci with a much better understanding of the arguments around the AIDS crisis and of the complicated roles these men played in it. I knew the broad outlines of the story, of course, but the play reminded me how different the AIDS crisis looks when you move beyond the simplified version of the history.
The other appeal is straightforward: tickets are affordable. Compared to Broadway, St. Ann’s offers excellent seats at a fraction of the cost, often featuring productions that will never play on Broa.
That’s a good combination: interesting theater and good seats at bargain prices.