Courtesy of Upstream Theater
Linda Kennedy Chef Upstream Theater
Linda Kennedy plays the titular role in Upstream Theater's production of "Chef."
"Do you care about what I have to say, or have you already decided?" That line, from Upstream Theater's forthcoming Chef (September 28, Kranzberg Arts Center, 501 N. Grand), gets to the heart of the production. It's also the favorite of Linda Kennedy, who will play the role of the chef in the one-woman show—and a question she hopes the audience will consider after it's over.
Chef, by U.K.-Egyptian playwright Sabrina Mahfouz, follows 24 hours in the life of a woman incarcerated and working in the prison's kitchen as a cook. She tells the audience about life before prison as a fine-dining chef, and about some of the other women who work in her kitchen, peeling away the layers of her story and answering the questions about how she wound up there—not just the circumstances that led to her conviction but the other factors often overlooked. The play, which won the 2014 Fringe First Award at the Edinburgh Festival, will be making its U.S. premiere with Upstream, and Swiss artist and composer Marianne de Pury will be directing Kennedy.
It would be easy to see the play as only a commentary on the modern prison system. But Kennedy views it as a much wider examination of the human condition. "We don’t always know what someone is going through," she says. "If someone is having a bad day, we immediately think, 'Well, they don’t like me.' You become defensive. We don’t ask 'Hey, are you OK?' anymore." SLM asked one of St. Louis's favorite actors to talk about preparing for this role and more.
This play—the setting, the character, the events that unfold during it—is heavy. What attracted you to Chef?
I think it was not knowing why the chef was there. As I was reading the script, I first thought, “Oh, she’s a chef." And then you think, “Oh, no, she’s a chef in a prison," and then, "Well, she works there.” And no, that’s not it. As each unfolded, that’s what really intrigued me.
The disproportionate incarceration of people of color is a big problem in this country. I'm reminded of Alice Marie Johnson, who received a life sentence for a nonviolent drug offense and was pardoned by President Donald Trump in June of this year after serving more than 20 years. Did you study the news to find inspiration for this role? Is this something you're passionate about?
I did look at the news. I wouldn’t say that I’m passionate about women’s prison life, but I’m passionate about the human condition. We get so accustomed to pointing fingers or locking away the accused, it’s like we have the trial and jury and put people away without really understanding or looking at someone’s life experiences. We don’t ask the question: How did you get here? And I think Chef spends a lot of time asking "How did we get here?" Not just me but us. Because of what’s going on in this play, the chef is looking at her own life and this question of "How did I get here?" We need to be able to have some resolve in ourselves, to take ownership and responsibility—"This was my part in it, but this was their part in it as well."
What has been the most difficult part of preparing for this role?
Most challenging is making it more of my own colloquialism and language, because we don’t say “bloke” or “bloody,” and making sure there’s consistency in the language. But also making sure that I keep the chef's poetry. Some of her poetic images are difficult because it’s not my normal language, but she’s painting a picture, so I want to make sure I’m staying consistent with that.
What about the challenge of getting into the mindset of a woman who's in prison? Is that hard?
Yes and no. As women, we share some experiences. I’ve never went through the kind of abuse or mental attacks or physical attacks that she has; however, being a woman, I can have empathy for her, and I understand that.
You can feel empathy for the character in terms of being associated with a man who has done something wrong.
We get into relationships, with other women, with people who are raising us—it’s not just against men. It’s also against this lack of understanding of the female experience, what we go through. Especially as young women and trying to discover who we are. Sometimes in trying to meet other people’s expectations, the self gets lost. And in these systems, in society in general, there’s sometimes a lack of really good medical and emotional support.
What’s it like to work with Marianne de Pury?
She’s calming and patient, but she knows when to push me, because actors can get lazy [laughs]. They can have moments of self-pity. She doesn’t let me do that. A lot of times when we’re working, I can see what she wants and when she wants it. She’ll say, “No, I want—” and I’ll finish, “Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it.” We never actually say what it is, but we creatively connect.
What's the most challenging part of performing a one-woman show?
Being out there by yourself. There’s nobody out there who can give you the clue or cue as to what’s next. Especially when you do have lines or thoughts that come and don’t totally connect to the one before it. It’s like what they say about dogs. You’re walking along and then suddenly ... squirrel! It suddenly changes directions, but it does lead back to whatever the point was.
What are you hoping people take away from Chef?
I would like them to look at the relationship that they’re in. And that’s not just man-woman relationships, but human relationships. There are always things going on with people that we’re not aware of. I hope that people stop and think, “Wow, if somebody had done this, would this have made a difference?” And “How can I make a difference?”
