Excerpted from Jordan Matter’s Dancers After Dark, on sale now!
I’ve photographed celebrities, but I’ve never asked one to disrobe. That changed when I met The Good Wife star Alan Cumming in his dressing room one winter evening after his star turn in the Broadway revival of Cabaret. Alan was holding court for a large group of guests, a regular event labeled “Club Cumming” by the New York Times that was quickly becoming Broadway legend. Alan had been kind enough to give me a blurb for Dancers Among Us, so he was familiar with my work. Emboldened by the fully stocked bar and encouraged by my wife, I swung for the fences.
“I’m doing another book, and this time I’d like you to be in it,” I said, when we had a moment alone.
“Sure,” he replied enthusiastically, without hesitating. Alan has the kind of infectious energy that can make a single syllable bounce off the walls. It’s impossible to be tired around him (which came in quite handy months later).
“Well, you should probably see it first,” I said, and handed him a photo of a nude dancer in Times Square.
I waited for him to say, “No way.” What possible benefit could he see in this? He looked at it for about an eighth of a second.
“Beautiful. Let’s do it! Everybody,” he shouted, “let’s dance.”
And that was that.
After months of waiting, hoping, checking in, and waiting some more to schedule a shoot, I finally got the call the following spring. His assistant, Jimmy, said that Alan would shoot with me after his solo show at the Carlyle Hotel, just two nights after hosting the Tony Awards. I was to meet him at 11:00 p.m. at his apartment downtown. Jimmy asked me to find a private location and said that I’d have about thirty minutes. Understandably, Alan would be exhausted.
I don’t usually scout locations, but I did for Alan. I arrived hours early, scouring every inch of his neighborhood. By 11:00 p.m. I had several quiet spots chosen. The lighting was pre-set, and my assistant stood in for Alan, rehearsing poses. I was determined to make this quick and efficient.
Bzzzzzzz. A text message popped up on my phone. “Is this you, Jordan? I am still at the Carlyle. Sorry. Loads of guests tonight. Do you want to come here?”
The optimist in me thought, At least he’s not canceling. The pragmatist thought, Now what?
I grabbed a cab and sped uptown. I scouted the neighborhood quickly and saw a couple of good locations in Central Park.
Alan sent another text, “How goes it?” which I interpreted to mean, “Get your ass over here before I fall asleep.” I rushed to the hotel, noticing the attractive facade as I entered the building.
I arrived in his suite at midnight. A gin and tonic was waiting for me, as were several members of his extremely attractive band. This was definitely the cool kids’ party.
Everyone was having a blast, laughing and joking around. Alan leaned back in his chair. “So, Jordan, what do you have in mind?”
The laughing stopped. They all looked my way, excited to hear my divine inspiration.
“Uhhh, well, there’s this sculpture in Central Park, and you could drape over it, maybe? Or there’s a beautiful fountain outside the Met. You could stand in the water and pose?”
Not exactly divine inspiration. I didn’t like the ideas, and neither did they.
The conversation drifted, but I wasn’t worried. Of the many lessons I’ve learned from performers, agility is at the top of the list. The great ones have an uncanny ability to mold their performances to the energy around them, to sense an audience’s expectations and make adjustments. My process is similar, developed over many years of trial and error. I rely heavily on spontaneity. I trust myself to bend with the wind, and in moments like this, I expect serendipity to come to my rescue.
And it did.
“My friend suggested we shoot in front of the hotel,” Alan said, jolting me away from my thoughts.
You can watch Alan Cumming talk to Seth Meyers about his experience below:
No Comments