A Leading Lady of D.C. Theater

Zinoman seems to believe that Studio is just now coming into its own. The learning curve had been a long one: In the early years, she admits, "I did some bad plays." But these days, there is a belief at Studio that the theater has done enough good work with the plays of enough good dramatists that it has acquired the cachet of a hotbed, and that theatergoers respond in kind. The high demand allows Studio regularly to extend the runs of shows, and its treatments of such plays as Churchill's "Far Away" and "A Number," LaBute's "Fat Pig," Bryony Lavery's "Frozen" and Richard Greenberg's "Take Me Out" have been as fine if not finer than versions in New York.

"One reason I think this has been successful is there's a synchronization between the artistic taste of the institution and the audience's," observes Zinoman, wearing a quilted Mao jacket and with her hair in her trademark salt-and-pepper bob.

The company has grown into a nearly $5 million-a-year enterprise, with a full-time staff of 35 overseeing nine productions a season in Studio's three fixed-seat houses and one raw space at 14th and P streets NW.

"The artistic director's job is to lead, not to follow," she adds. "You have to have that certitude of strength and conviction. And you have to have a certain stubborn sense of taste."

Serge Seiden, Studio's associate artistic director, concurs, explaining that the theater's leadership feels pretty secure. "We talk very little about, 'Is this too much for our audience?' " Seiden says. "I don't know," he adds with a chuckle, "we consider ourselves to be the audience."

Zinoman's formula, of course, mandates a certain level of proficiency as well, and this hasn't always been borne out, particularly when Studio has ventured into the realm of large-scale classics. Some of the theater's productions in recent years of big, older plays, such as "Ivanov" and "The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie," have been thoroughgoing disappointments. And although her trio of nearly identical 200-seat theaters have successfully served as homes for some sizable pieces, including the Tony Kushner musical "Caroline, or Change" and several Stoppard plays, the hallmark of Studio's achievement is more often an intimate drama of three, four or five characters.

Zinoman, too, has for the most part steered the company away from the sexy-risky terrain of work that has never been seen anywhere else, a decision that has invited questions in the theater world about whether Studio is a little gun-shy. It has, however, scored significant coups of late with fairly early presentations of important new plays: "The Intelligent Design of Jenny Chow" by Rolin Jones was later a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize for drama, and Studio hosted a run this winter of another highly touted new work, Tyrell Alvin McRaney's "The Brothers Size."

Still, Zinoman is unapologetic about not devoting more capital to original plays at Studio. One issue is the company's concentration, which is directed to education more than play development. Studio runs a theater conservatory, with 600 students coming through the doors each year. Another is the question of limitations on where Washington happens to be on the theatrical map. "In the larger world," she says, "playwrights are interested in that first production of their work. And if you are in a city of playwrights, then you have an opportunity to do work on that level."

Her allegiance is not to novelty. "I never thought contemporary meant new plays," she says. "I thought it meant the best living writers you could possibly get."

And getting them takes an inordinate amount of time and energy, a fact about which the team around the Studio conference table is all too aware. With a stack of scripts in front of them, Zinoman and the men talk and talk and talk, listing merits and demerits for a passel of plays by many writers you've heard of and some you probably haven't.

A commercially successful play by an English writer is mentioned, and the name of a first-rate Washington actor comes up in connection with it. Zinoman considers the combination. "[He] would give me his left testicle to do it," she says. "It's an actor's dream." But she's not yet convinced. "Is it too old for us?" she asks. "Is it too obvious?"

The colloquy goes on and on, and at the unresolved conclusion, Zinoman looks refreshed. After 30 years, she's still ready for the next meeting.