Character building

Watching Michael Stuhlbarg’s bravura turn as a mentally damaged prisoner in Martin McDonough’s The Pillowman, you might recognize this consummate character actor from one of his many other roles on the New York stage. He was the young, effete titular king of the Public Theater’s Richard II (1994) and the hapless Sir Andrew Aguecheek in the Park's most recent Twelfth Night (2002); he played a lovestruck yeshiva boy in A Dybbuk (1997), and a friendly Nazi in Cabaret (1998). But even if you’ve seen Stuhlbarg before, chances are you won’t recognize him at all.

“In some ways, he’s quite an old-fashioned protean actor,” says John Crowley, The Pillowman’s London-based director. “He changes from role to role.” And rarely has Stuhlbarg’s self-transformation been so dramatic as it is here; formerly rail-thin, he has maintained 30 pounds of extra weight to play the puffy, shuffling Michal, whose childlike demeanor masks deep fissures of rage and resentment.

Stuhlbarg, 36, began bulking up last year, in preparation for his role as a 19th-century Parisian barkeep in Lincoln Center’s Belle Époque. “Throughout my research for that project, I found many pictures of bar owners who were very heavyset,” he says. “And when I got the role of Michal, John and I started talking about how we wanted to manifest the character. He said, ‘Shave off the beard, but don’t go on a diet.’” (“My notion was to have someone who was quite squishy and soft, almost like a pillowman himself,” Crowley recalls. ) Some of Stuhlbarg’s other physical choices are less obvious: A small shock of grey hair and subtle scar makeup at his temples suggest Michal’s history of parental abuse; the character’s unbalanced psyche is accented by an uneven pair of shoes. (The one on the left is about an inch and a half taller.)

Such details are an essential starting point of Stuhlbarg’s outside-in approach to his work. In his dressing room at the Booth Theatre are notebooks full of ideas: neatly arranged collages of handwritten text, photocopied images and Stuhlbarg’s own sketches. “I’ve been drawing since I was a kid,” he says. “It’s been a huge part in the creation of the characters that I play.” Equally important is Stuhlbarg’s reverence for words—his willingness to let a play’s language shape his performance, instead of vice versa. Much of his most prominent work has been in the service of texts by verbally brilliant writers: Tony Kushner, Tom Stoppard, Shakespeare. Once he has mastered the externals, the rest of his performance—what he calls “the passion behind the mind”—is free to flow.

“It really overtakes me,” he says. “I’m a very impulsive actor. Even though many of the texts that I find myself involved with are very intellectual, there’s got to be a heart and a passion behind it.” Crowley has nothing but praise for Stuhlbarg's process. “Michael’s all about trying to remain open so that new things can happen in the moment of playing the scene,” the director observes. “It’s like an embarrassment of riches with him; he’s bringing so much new stuff to the floor continually.”

In person, Stuhlbarg seems sweet and soft-spoken (he describes himself as “a silly goofball, and sometimes very, very shy in communicating with people”), but on stage he drawn to bold strokes; he lights up when talking about “big stories," "huge thoughts” and “epic theater.”  He also gravitates naturally to humor. “I get so much joy out of playing comedy, and finding the comedy in tragedy,” he says. The Pillowman makes the most of his talents in that regard. “For Michal, you need an actor who can convince you that he could be quite dark and scary, but at the middle of it is very gentle,” Crowley explains. “Michael brings huge personality to it—charm and warmth and cheekiness—but he can also be deeply affecting and upsetting.”

While Stuhlbarg’s excellent work in the past has earned him the reverence of directors and fellow actors, The Pillowman has been a breakthrough. Last month, he won a Drama Desk Award for his performance; and on Sunday, June 5, he will compete against Alan Alda and Liev Schrieber for the Featured Actor Tony. It’s the kind of irony a character actor might appreciate: For disappearing so persuasively into his role, Stuhlbarg may finally get the recognition he has earned.

The Pillowman is playing at the Booth Theatre. See Broadway.