Doug Wright on Watching the Audience React to Hands on a Hardbody: “A Rustled Candy Wrapper Stings Me Like a Slap in the Face”


By Chad Batka.

He’s written musicals; he’s written plays. He’s won a Tony and a Pulitzer. Just when it seemed as though Doug Wright could not top Doug Wright, his new musical—Hands on a Hardbody—debuted on Broadway. Based on a late-90s documentary of the same title, Hardbody is the story of 10 Texan strangers who have the chance at literally driving away with the American Dream after entering a contest to win a brand-new truck. The game is simple: whoever keeps his or her hand on the truck the longest wins. With tremendous performances by Hunter Foster and Keala Settle (watch out for her a cappella gospel number “Joy of the Lord”) and music by Phish front man Trey Anastasio (and Amanda Green), Hardbody is a gritty, realistic, and ultimately uplifting portrayal of American culture today. We recently spoke with Wright about collaborating with Anastasio and what it’s like to watch an audience react to his work. Highlights from our chat:

VF Daily: This show is based on a documentary. What inspired you to turn it into a musical?

Doug Wright: The documentary film chronicles a very unusual contest which used to take place annually in a small east-Texas town called Longview. In it, contestants are invited to stand astride a new Nissan “hardbody” truck and place their hand on it. The person who can stand for the longest duration without removing their hand from the truck wins it. The documentary is remarkable because it pushes past the kitschy, almost absurdist nature of the contest to hit on universal truths about the nature of competition, desire, and opportunity in American culture. And the characters are a rowdy, irrepressible, lovable lot. They each have a poignant ache for that shiny new truck but for different reasons: one woman sees winning it as a mandate from God. Another entrant wants to defend his manhood. A third sees the truck as a chance at escape from a home she finds repressive and confining. Their passions are big enough to merit songs. And they’re simultaneously heartbreaking and wildly, recklessly hilarious. I’ve never laughed so much or so heartily in rehearsal; we have such a splendid company of actors, bringing these wonderfully archetypal people to vivid life.

Trey Anastasio may not be the man that people think of when they think “Broadway musical.” How did you get him on board?

Our lyricist and composer Amanda Green is friendly with Trey. It was her ingenious idea to collaborate with him on the musical score. Trey is the first to admit that he’s a closet musical-theater fan. One of his first albums was West Side Story, and during our first dinner together, he gave a rhapsodic speech about the brilliance behind the overture to the show Gypsy. Once, during rehearsal, the inimitable Hunter Foster was working his way through our big 11-o’clock number, and Trey showed me his iPhone. He’d Googled John Raitt singing the spectacular “Soliloquy” from Carousel as a point of reference for our big, unashamed, tour-de-force ballad. In truth, Trey taught me about musical theater.

What is your writing process typically like?

My most reliable muse is a deadline. Like most writers, I find the hardest thing to do is actually sit down and start. I’d sooner vacuum cat hair, wash the mattress pads, go after the grout in the bathroom with a toothbrush, or fill the day with long lunches and coffee dates than stare at the steady blue glow of my computer screen.

Without giving away too much, I have to say, the whole time, I was pulling for Norma to win. Is there any particular character you’re secretly rooting for?

Each one of our cast members is so deliriously funny and so unexpectedly poignant that I find my allegiance shifts every night. One night, I’m rooting for Chris, the ex-Marine. The next night I find I’m crossing my fingers for Kelli, who works the late-night shift at the local UPS. Even though I wrote the ending, I sometimes find myself pining for other characters to win.

What is it like watching your words and vision come to life onstage?

Most writers are big, raw nerves during previews and through opening night. One minute, you’re convinced you’re a genius. The next, you vow never to write another play. It all depends on the audience on any given night, if they laugh at your jokes and weep at the more emotional plot turns. It’s really terrible, like going on a blind date with a thousand people every night. Fortunately, audiences have been wonderfully responsive so far.

You’ve won a Pulitzer and a Tony. When you’re debuting a new show, do you feel pressure to measure up to the past?

Each project is a clean slate. Those kudos were deeply welcome in my life and gave me profound encouragement, to be sure. But your new works have to function on their own merits. The fellow in Row B, Seat 12 who’s bored out of his mind during your first act doesn’t say, “Well, this playwright won a fancy prize a few years back. Clearly, this is a stunning, writerly text and I’m just too philistine to get it.” No, he says, “This is really dull.” You can’t coast on past successes. Because of the strength of my collaborators on Hands on a Hardbody, I unashamedly believe in the material. The songs Trey and Amanda have written are tuneful and remarkably touching, and they’ve both challenged me to write a book that earns those musical moments. They’re my insurance policy; they make me better than I would otherwise be.

You’re a Texan yourself. Did you feel a special connection to the place or the characters because of your Southern upbringing?

The play happens to be set in Texas, because that’s where the contest took place. And while the state has some idiosyncrasies, colorful idioms, and cultural signifiers that are unique—and great fun to exploit in dialogue—the play, I hope, reflects the entire country. Folks out in San Diego related to it when we performed it last summer at the La Jolla Playhouse, and now folks in New York are seeing themselves onstage, too.

How did the state of the economy shape this show and your writing?

It’s the core subject of the play. Americans have enormous tenacity, even in the face of adversity. The political dialogue in our country has become so obstructionist and strident, we wanted to write a piece that showed humble, everyday Americans exhibiting some of the noble characteristics that have always been innate in our national character: altruism, ambition, strength of purpose, hope, and the desire to flourish in the face of hard-won opportunity. It’s an inspirational show but not in a hokey way; it acknowledges life’s difficulty but celebrates our ability to confront it.

Where are you while the actual show is taking place? Does the audience reaction affect you?

The audience is a fickle mistress; a rustled candy wrapper stings me like a slap in the face. I usually lurk in the back of the orchestra section, so I can pace and make nervous trips to the restroom. If the audience is particularly responsive—and this show’s been garnering its share of belly laughs and gasps—then sometimes I’ll venture down and find an empty seat in the house. But I have to be feeling unusually brave.