This year’s Kevin Kline Awards, named for the local thespian made good, will celebrate its fifth anniversary on March 22 at Loretto-Hilton Theatre with a black-tie awards presentation hosted by Mad Men actor Jon Hamm, a swingin’ reception, and enough juicy theater stories to rival Carol Channing’s memoirs. SLM asked five past winners about the good, the bad, and the after-party.
Have you ever met Kevin Kline?
MH: He presented me with an award. Kevin Kline actually handed me something—he touched me. It was a total rush.
BM: No, but I was friends with his brother Chris growing up.
TD: Yes, the first year. But I didn’t get to kiss him like Nancy Lewis did.
Did you spend a lot of time deciding what to wear?
DW: I did. And I’m not a small woman, but I chose the sparkliest blue outfit with a feather boa.
BM: I have one suit, for weddings, funerals, and the Kevin Kline Awards.
Did you prepare a speech or wing it?
MH: I’m not gonna lie. I prepared
LB: I prepared for both years
DW: I had nothing prepared because I knew I wasn’t going to win. I was just excited to get free seats. So when I won, I just rambled on and on.
BM: I was completely unprepared. I remember walking up there thinking “I have nothing.” I just mentioned the name of everyone in the cast and got off the stage.
How did it feel to win?
MH: There are so few opportunities in our life where we get to stand up in front of people and thank them—our theatre friends, my friends who ate lunch with me in high school were there, my family, my teachers -- they were all there.
BM: I was really stunned because our show was a little labor of love, an intimate show, and we were up against Les Miz at the Muny with a 150-person cast.
DW: When they said my name I stood up and screamed at the top of my lungs. I was overwhelmed.
Where do you keep the award?
TD: On my fireplace mantel. I had just kept it in its box for the longest time, because I didn’t want to toot my own horn.
LB: In my living room. [Local director] Chuck Harper told me a secret: If you get two, you can turn them and they make great bookends.
MH: What they don’t tell you is that you walk offstage, and they immediately take your trophy from you. They only have four on hand, and the rest are being shipped from China. They actually say, “You know we’re gonna need that back, right?”
What does the award mean to you?
MH: It means that I’m lucky.
BM: I’ve been involved in theater in St. Louis for several decades—I started as a teen in Gaslight Square—and I think nothing has done more to elevate St. Louis theater to the forefront of the whole community than the Kevin Kline Awards.
What advice would you give to those who don’t win?
BM: I was a judge, and I can tell you the winner may only have one point more than everyone else. If you get nominated, you can’t worry about winning, that’s not what the spirit of the night is about. And a lot of people who do win say to themselves “how the hell did this happen?”
MH: Just enjoy the night. You’re lucky to be nominated—look at the company in each category. And the nomination is good press, too.
DW: Smile and try not to be bitter. Bring forth those acting skills that got you nominated.
Where was the big after-party?
LB: The first year, I ended up at the Courtesy Diner eating chili, and the second time I ended up at Uncle Bill’s Pancake House.
BM: The Rep hosts a very excessive gala at the Steak ’n Shake on Manchester Road. We look like overaged prom-goers.
Have you ever been de-Klined [nominated, but didn’t win]?
DW: You know, I was watching Law & Order the other night, and I saw the actress who beat me in ’09. I said, “Oh my God! It’s the bitch who took my Kevin Kline!”
Photo credits: Lance Tilford, J. Bruce Summers, Jill Ritter Lindberg, Greg Rannells
