Opportunity rarely knocks twice, but here it is rapping, offering another chance to see the remarkable Jim Brochu as actor-comedian-blacklist-victim Zero Mostel in the one-man show Zero Hour, opening tonight at the Maltz Jupiter Theatre through Oct. 24.
Brochu first brought the show to the area in 2008, at the Broward Stage Door in Coral Springs, prior to his triumphant opening last year off-Broadway. This return engagement, while the show takes a two-week hiatus in New York, can be directly traced to the Jupiter playhouse’s namesake and board chairman, Milton Maltz.
“Two years ago, I did a cruise to Antarctica on the Crystal Symphony, where I did one performance of ‘Zero Hour,’ kind of a tab version of it,” explains Brochu. “The day after I got back, the phone rang, and it was (artistic director) Andrew Kato, asking me to bring the show to the Maltz Jupiter Theatre. And I asked, ‘Well, how did you hear about the show?’ He said, ‘Milton Maltz just came back from his cruise to Antarctica.’
“It’s unbelievable, who thought doing a show in Antarctica would lead me to Jupiter, Florida? So I’m bringing a couple of penguins with me.”
In the show, thanks in part to a crafty makeup job, Brochu bears an uncanny resemblance to the burly, larger-than-life Mostel. But then for a long time people had been noting how much he brings the late actor to mind.
“I recently found my yearbook from 1964 and next to my picture, someone wrote, ‘Jim Brochu, also known as the Zero Mostel of LaSalle (Military Academy)’,” he says. “And then on my New York debut in 1970, in a show called ‘Unfair to Goliath,’ Jelly Talmer in the New York Post said, ‘If they ever do the Zero Mostel story, Jim Brochu is my choice for the lead.’
“So 40 years ago, I was being compared to Mostel.”
Yet it was not until 2005 that it occurred to Brochu that he should create a stage show to capitalize on the physical resemblance. ‘I was cleaning out my apartment and here was a Theater Arts magazine with Zero’s picture on the cover. As soon as I saw that picture on the cover, I thought, ‘This is what I should be doing next’,” he recalls.
“I think I must have thought it was inevitable, but it seemed like this was the right moment because I was approaching Zero’s age. He died at 62, now I’m 64. So I thought, ‘If I’m going to do it, now is the time to do it.’ ”
Although he knew Mostel first-hand, Brochu began writing Zero Hour by hitting the books. “What I did was I read everything I could get my hands on. And you know, the Internet makes research awfully easy. All of Zero’s testimony in front of the House Un-American Activities Committee is online, a lot of his letters between himself and (his wife) Kate, so many articles, interviews,” says Brochu,. “So I just devoured it, and I kind of let it spin around in my head for about two months. And then I sat down to write the play and the play literally wrote itself.”
From his research, Brochu learned how important painting was to Mostel. “I think he loved being on a stage, but even more he loved being in his studio. That was the life he preferred. He was a very quiet man when he was painting, very introspective. But as soon as somebody else was in the room, he became Zero,” he explains. From that notion, Brochu imagined Mostel holding court in his art studio, suffering the company of a New York Times reporter, to whom he chooses to pour out his life story in 1977, not realizing that he was less than a month away from his death.
Of course the show covers his career highlights, from such memorable stage work as Ulysses in Nighttown to Fiddler on the Roof and films from The Producers to The Front. “Had that great unknown quality, whatever you call it. Charisma, brilliance, genius, whatever it was,” explains Brochu. “He was so mercurial onstage. He was riveting. When he was onstage, you just couldn’t take your eyes off him.”
Although Zero Hour has been a hit with audiences and critics since it premiered in Los Angeles — winning an Ovation Award there for best new play — Brochu kept tinkering with the script. “Oh, it keeps evolving. I was making changes up to last week, putting in a new line here or there,” he says. “So it always evolves, y’know? As somebody said, ‘Art is never finished, it’s just abandoned.’ ”
To direct the show, he enlisted a friend, film actress Piper Laurie, known for a range of movies from Francis Goes to the Races to The Hustler to Carrie. “I mentioned to her that I’d written this play about Zero and she said, ‘Oh, I used to see Zero at the Tick Tock Inn. We’d sit and have coffee and he’d butter his arm.’ ”
Huh? “He’d take the butter from the table and start buttering his arm, all the way up to the elbow, and then call the waiter over and say, ‘Waiter, we’re out of butter.’ ”
Laurie attended an early reading of Zero Hour, had some good suggestions and Brochu asked her to take on the directing chores. “And she said, ‘I haven’t directed a play since high school.’ I said, ‘But you know what you’re doing, you have great instincts and we work very well together.’
“She gave me some wonderful acting tips about letting the sadness of Zero shine through, the crustiness,” says Brochu. “Very subtle things that made their way into this show.”
The play came to South Florida, earning Brochu a Carbonell Award for his performance. Still, there is nothing like success in New York, which soon followed.
“Oh, no, this has been off the charts. We came up here expecting to have a 12-week run, and that would be it,” he says. “Then the reviews started coming in and it was like people were trying to top each other in saying positive things.”
He added the Drama Desk Award to his trophy shelf and suddenly is in demand for a variety of projects. “It’s made me a very, very happy man,” Brochu concedes. “After 42 years in the business, I’m an overnight sensation. It’s funny, somebody said, ‘You’re the best known unknown actor in the world.’ OK, I’ll take it.”
ZERO HOUR, Maltz Jupiter Theatre, 1001 E. Indiantown Road, Jupiter, Thursdays through Sundays, tonight (Oct. 14) through Oct. 24. Tickets: $23 (subscribers), $29 (non-subscribers). Call: (561) 575-2223.