Grandliloquent

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Writer and memoirist Gary Gulman looks comfortable as that raconteur that will “get you” with his love of words, language, and books, but the self-effacing man we see before us has a very unpleasant family history. Once the precocious child, he was the victim getting caught in the crosshairs of parents that had him very late in life, and worse than that, when they were somewhat done with their marriage. Grandiloquent paints the picture of a young boy struggling to prove his worth, enduring a childhood damaged by episodes of mental abuse, and while that may sound like heavy material, Gulman magnificently and selflessly unearths every opportunity for humor.

Even before we make contact with Gulman, scenic designer Beowulf Boritt lets us know something has happened here. Very tall bookcases command the stage, except for one of the center cases which, bifurcated and toppled, has its entire contents strewn beneath it. The sea foam-colored wall behind the cases suggests crinkled wrapping paper, not a pristine surface. It’s pretty enough, but purposely looking worse for wear. Forward of the bookcases sits an uncomfortable looking plastic chair with a little side table holding a glass of water and a book opened up, face down.

Enter Gulman, shoulder length curly hair and glasses, in a very autumnal plaid blazer courtesy of costume designer Tilly Grimes, giving off a cool Frank Zappa persona, that is if Zappa could be channeled through the late Robin Williams as English teacher John Keating in Dead Poets Society. With Gulman even now being that little boy craving attention, he eagerly shares with us the first book he read on his own, The Monster at the End of This Book. “My lessons from kindergarten and my dedicated viewing of Sesame Street and The Electric Company all came together to create a life changing moment…Grover spends every page begging us not to turn the page and erecting ever more elaborate buttresses to prevent our turning the page because he is so afraid of the monster at the end of this book. Grover has something to say on the page where you usually only get the ISBN number and the address to order in bulk, but here Grover says ‘This is a very dull page.’ And I was hooked.”

A grown man channeling his seven-year-old self bouncing from simpatico with Grover to referencing Thomas Pynchon makes one wonder how good a time he might have had with Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past…if not the book, at least the Cliff Notes? The cerebral and precocious Gulman would have probably wanted to edit the Cliff Notes.

The youngster took pride in his participation in Sun Up, the top reading group for his age. This did not deter his weekend father from asking the school’s principal and then the superintendent to have Gulman repeat the first grade, citing that his son didn’t exhibit the maturity that he himself had at his age. “Different things were expected from a six-year-old in 1932, my dad went to school during the day and at night he was a longshoreman.” This vicious act set young Gulman up to never be in the presence of his same age peers. Naturally big for his age, he would then tower over the other students in first grade who were there for the first time. “Second time through I was frequently mistaken for a teacher’s aide.”

When the parents divorced he was just one. “My mother will always quickly interject ‘Gah, one and a half, one and a half honey. Daddy left when you were one and a half. Don’t exaggerate for ya Yuma (your humor).’ One and a half. Yeah, one would be unforgivable…one and a half, come on, I was already almost out of the house.” The brother closest to him in age was four years older. And the oldest brother was four years older than the middle child. His siblings were rarely home and they had little opportunity (or reason) to be close. Mom couldn’t afford childcare on her husband’s alimony so when Gary wasn’t in school she took her son everywhere with her. “So I felt very comfortable around adults, especially women. Middle-aged moms? That was my crowd…Probably because my parents were older, they never talked to me like I was a kid. My parents talked to me like I was their bridge partner. And so I had an immense vocabulary, I was seven but I started forty percent of my sentences with ‘Evidently.’”

Is it any wonder then that Gary Gulman buried himself in books and his facility with words? He could easily identify with an outsider character like Grover. “I’ve always been afraid that I wouldn’t be able to get out of the sadness. A lot of times I couldn’t. So I tried to disconnect the feeling of sadness but then you wind up disconnecting the joy, the love, the light along with it. It’s still unsettling when I say something personal and it doesn’t get a laugh, I take it out but then aren’t I cheating you out of a feeling? I’m cheating us out of a connection if I keep hiding up here.”

Director Moritz von Stuelpnagel brings “kid gloves” to the moments that are most difficult for us to hear. Even lighting designer Adam Honoré brings a noticeable stillness where all time stops so we don’t lose sight of the true gravity of the moment. When young Gary must face the next day at school after the teacher pitted him against a “popular vote from his fellow students” that would have enabled him to leave school on time rather than serve detention for a lost library book, the mood doesn’t just change. It becomes painful to watch. “I was falling apart every night during the late book crisis. I dreaded waking up the next morning. When I’d take the toothpaste out of the medicine cabinet I’d fixate on a glass bottle of dusty sleeping pills. I’d think that’s one answer. At seven…I had to go back to school the next day and sit among these vipers. Like nothing horrifying happened the day before.” This may very well be the most haunting moment of Grandiloquent and it’s underlined by compassionate direction and empathetic lighting.

There is an honesty in Gulman’s writing that in the midst of all the laughs there’s a gnawing pain that can stop us dead in our tracks. How did that get in there? Gulman’s reality is proof yet again that we are all products of our environment. His sensitivity to criticism is acute as he endured so much of it growing up, so anything of import said has been meticulously mapped out before the words escape: “Aren’t I clever? You’d never think I had to repeat a grade, right? Every word I say is chosen after intensive consideration and right now I’m thinking would ‘intense’ be better than ‘intensive’ or would ‘assiduous’ work there? Nobody dumb says ‘assiduous’. Or would that sound too written and rehearsed?”

The fact that Gulman spends 90 minutes dwarfed by these bookcases is food for thought. Gary Gulman stands 6’ 6” tall. That’s larger than life in most contexts. Giancarlo Stanton of the New York Yankees is 6’ 6” tall. Former Brooklyn Net shooting guard Joe Harris is 6’ 6” tall. Irish pro wrestler with WWE, Sheamus is 6’ 6” tall. It is the height of your modern day warrior, and even an astute examiner of the human condition who shares with us what he has learned is a warrior of his own making. “Yes there was suffering and pain but ultimately I was able to redeem it by making it funny and made some people feel less alone and more hopeful.” Gary Gulman, we thank you.

Grandiloquent (through February 8, 2025)

Lucille Lortel Theatre, 121 Christopher Street, in Manhattan

For tickets, visit http://www.boxoffice.lortel.org

Running time: 90 minutes without an intermission