Ever since he was a kid, Michael Domitrovich has had a passion for theatre. “[It was] always a necessary part of life and….community for me,” he says, priding himself on presenting work that lived “at the intersection of spirit, society, and transformation.” Today, his plays have been produced Off-Broadway, Off-Off-Broadway, and internationally, on such stages as La MaMa E.T.C., Theater for the New City, the DR2, and the Avenue Theater (Denver, CO). Additionally, his writing has appeared in New York Theatre Review, The New York Times, and Paper. But his pièce de résistance – especially as of late – would be Suite 524.

Co-founded with fellow theatre makers Eduardo Machado, Michael Sharp, and Mateo d’Amato, the nonprofit studio looks to provide an alternative to the traditional structures of American theatrical creation by offering innovative performances in non-traditional settings.

One such offering is Pop Up Dinner Theater (PUDT), which aims to provide deep satisfaction and catharsis for its diners and audience members, while again, emphasizing the power and transformation that can spontaneously arise when people come together in a communal space.

Presented in part with LDV Hospitality, the pair offers four plays – The Cowboy by the aforementioned Sharp, Peekos at Barlume by writer Sandi Farkas, Fine Dining by the aforementioned Machado, and See the Forest by Domitrovich himself – alongside a custom-made menu, consisting of Blue Crab Toast, Grilled Halloumi, and Chicken Kebabs, to name a few… all exclusively at Barlume Downstairs on Sundays from November 2nd-23rd.

Below, Domitrovich discusses the creation of his company, as well as his thoughts on fine dining, where we’re all headed with AI, his passion for the art form, and what makes a Suite 524 evening truly unique.

Can you talk about your background? What about your theatrical history has led you from who you were as a child to who and where you are now?

I actually started out as an actor. My mom also wanted to be an actress, studied it in high school and college, and even toured with a Children’s Theater Company after she graduated, so she was always very encouraging of my highly dramatic tendencies.

My dad was a semi-hoarder who would go around the city buying stuff at Repo-auctions. One time, he came back with a lot of theater chairs, like big hulking rows of them, and...he installed them in the basement. [He] built a makeshift stage, hung some 80’s track lighting, and [tada!]

Over the next few years, the “theater” was graced by both James Gandolfini (who was a bartender upstairs) and one Vanessa Williams. So, the idea of doing theater as needed–even in the basement of a restaurant–was not a stretch for me.

My other biggest influence was a director named Taffy McCarthy, whom I met right after my family moved to Martha’s Vineyard. She cast me as the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz, and years later as Jesus in a production of Godspell when I was a junior in high school. Watching Taffy directing musical theater was like auditing a master class. She exposed me to so much (mask work, archetypes, pantomime, etc.) and had so many ideas, but only ever stuck with what actually “played”.  Definitely my first inspiration as a director.

But it was also the larger community of Vineyard artists, teachers, and professionals treating me with so much respect and encouragement, they gave me no reason to believe I couldn’t make a life working in the theater.

So, within a year of landing in NYC, I was producing and directing a friend’s play in a photography studio on 28th Street. I cut my teeth writing several short plays for a theater company that produced 10-minute plays in bars. We would write them on a Sunday, and they’d be on stage by the next Friday. Whatever it took to get the work done, up, and out there.

As to where I am now, in a way, I’m the same as I ever was: I still see theater as a necessary part of life and society, and I treat the concepts and visions I’m always dreaming up as urges that deserve to be respected, explored, and expressed, especially if I feel they’re contributing something useful.

I care deeply about the audience’s experience, and I feel proud of how that unfolds during Pop Up Dinner Theater. The wild part is that it was a sequence of artistic choices: what the world needs, what I have to say, and what my theater company, Suite 524, can actually do that has led me back to where I started – doing theater in a basement restaurant.

Can you describe your process for matching plays and venues? What goes into pairing each venue with the play or set of plays?

The thing that connects the plays is actually the venue! That’s the concept: get four different voices to write plays for the same space. It is truly a bespoke night of theater, with each piece being written specifically for the venue and the menu! And that’s how the process starts: we research the history of the venue, meet with the front of house and chef, and choose an overall “vibe” for the evening.

[For this evening specifically], we were inspired by the industrial architecture of Barlume, and the Flatiron location, and….drew inspiration from the season, [which was] “fall/back to school/work life balance.”

The quick rehearsal and production process makes it possible to get things that are in the zeitgeist onto the stage in a relatively short amount of time, which very much aligns with Suite 524’s mission, to disrupt traditional models of theatrical creation, development, and exhibition.

In another production, all these elements will be there, but the balance of who’s writing and who’s directing and who’s performing can be divvied up amongst our company members and collaborators. It’s both reproducible, and quite malleable…. and, ultimately, a really cool process.

Why bring this dinner theater art form back? And why now? What void, if any, does it fill? 

Between COVID and AI, theater is struggling, restaurants are struggling… everyone’s staying home. And yet, if you give people dinner and a show – together, at a reasonable price – they will leave the purgatory of Netflix and chill.

I get it. I like staying home too. But I sincerely believe we need more spaces where we can be together, experiencing each other as humans who a) exist, b) eat, and c) feel.

I feel like people have fundamentally forgotten how to be together. So, we are conscientiously creating a space that is structured, but ultimately democratic, in the hopes that the ritual of theater will create a framework through which we can all be reminded of what we share… without having to beat people over the head about it.

One of my mentors, Olympia Dukakis, would say, “Theater is like medicine for society. If you don’t give it to them, they get SICK!”  But nobody likes taking medicine. So, we give you a perfectly cooked steak and a craft cocktail instead! (Laughs).

Also, this is not your typical dinner theater: we don’t do Gilbert & Sullivan or The Man in the Bowler Hat. We are creating new plays, of the moment, [that] feed your soul while you feed your belly.

How is this evening in its construction different from other works out there? Why should someone come to see it? 

It reminds me of old-school downtown theater. It’s wild. It’s authentic. The actors are ridiculously dedicated and talented. Truly, they’re all beasts. If you want to know what New York should feel like, save your 900+ Broadway bucks and come support new plays by artists who do this because they wouldn’t know what to do with themselves otherwise. Trust me… it’s worth it just to see them act.

Is it a technical and dramaturgical challenge to integrate live theater while serving a multi-course meal?

Not for me (Laughs). I ran a huge yacht club in the late 2000s in Montauk: three bars, two restaurants, room service for 110 hotel rooms and 220 yacht slips. The largest party I catered there was for 1400 people. So I understand how a dinner service works.

[PUDT] is both a catering event in which the plays are fired like courses and a theatrical event in which the courses are called just like lighting or sound cues!

In truth, getting through a play and a dinner service are nearly identical experiences: you have a couple hours to rally dozens of different personalities into executing a shared vision that has to be the same, every time.

Operationally, PUDT is more like a cross between a cabaret or comedy show and a catering event. Diners have choices, but everything is served between the plays. It would be almost impossible to do this event with a restaurant’s regular service, simply because we couldn’t have servers taking orders and being disruptive during shows. So the food gets cleared and served in one fell swoop.

You’re performing this piece as part of your company, Suite 524, which you call a nonprofit theater studio “devoted to preserving the power of live performance in the age of AI.” What was the impetus behind creating this company, and why is it important for folks to support nonprofit theaters like this one? 

I just don’t think we can presume anymore that people appreciate their own humanity, or each other’s. And yet we are wired to recognize, reflect, and affirm it. But our society is not. So, I would encourage people to support us and anyone else who is promoting humanity, the arts, and gently, but thoroughly, reminding us of what’s important, what’s possible, and that it’s all ultimately within us. I just don’t think any of that is a given. People actually want to be billionaires, and cyborgs, and titans of industry. That’s crazy to me.

Our consciousness and connection to each other is so much bigger than this hole that we are constantly being told needs to be filled by more money, power, or status. We are all here together. Theater reminds us of that, even if we try to resist it.

I think we have reason to be optimistic, though, because the only thing cooler than artificial intelligence is actual intelligence, which we have! (Laughs).

In a similar vein, why, in your opinion, is it important for theatre artists to speak out against AI?

Everyone believes it’s awesome, so I think we have to speak up and talk about how it sucks, too. And honestly? It’s important for everyone to speak out about anything that encourages us to sacrifice our humanity.

Algorithms are limited, finite. Humans are not. There’s nothing innocent or cutesy about corporate tech. It’s never doing what it says it’s doing, and even though it’s supposedly freeing up bandwidth, I think it ultimately forces us to be more passive. Instead of using that time to create or meditate, we usually just keep surfing other algorithms. We’re not doing anything with the energy that’s supposedly being freed up by all these advancements. [Instead], We’re all losing jobs, industries are collapsing, and the same 12 people are hoarding all the money and resources. So, is this tech benefitting us?

And then [in terms of art], you don’t need anyone to explain how a play or a painting or a song changes your life. With AI? The jury’s still very much out.

Speaking to the food aspect, and pulling from your play, what do you love most about the concept of fine dining? 

Fine dining is ultimately, for many people, the only time they get to feel like the ruling class. That’s a bummer to me, but also, I grew up waiting tables in my family’s restaurants, serving people for whom a night out was very special. So, even if I don’t love the socioeconomic implications of fine dining, I appreciate serving people and going to the most extreme lengths to provide a satisfying, stimulating, and nourishing experience for them.

Which of the four courses here do you recommend? Or, what’s your favorite? 

I love the sampler of dips that is served between the second and third plays. I especially love the charred red pepper and walnut dip, and the fava bean hummus – a beautifully golden and spiced purée of yellow lentils… if I do say so myself.

Moving back to the performance aspect, what do you hope audiences will take away from your show? From the evening as a whole? 

I want people to appreciate the magnitude of the talent these actors are bringing to the table. Truly, they are astounding. But most of all, I want people to see this show and affirm: Even if you’re outside of an established space or company, it’s possible to do theater differently, and, more importantly, to achieve powerful results.

In that same vein, what advice would you give to young theatre makers looking to “do theater differently” as you say?

Don’t just dream. Visualize… and then take action. PUDT was born during a difficult time in my personal life, out of a perceived need for stuff like this in the world. I didn’t do it to advance my own career, I just spoke up for the sake of our company and our audience. It just seemed like a good idea, so I said it out loud. Suite 524 rallied so thoroughly, then Barlume stepped in, and now people are really getting to see this thing actually run! But if I hadn’t stopped thinking about myself, and instead allowed myself to dream of what was best for all of us, it never would’ve happened. Don’t just dream, visualize, then tell someone. And if they listen, keep them close… and watch the magic happen.

Pop Up Dinner Theater runs at Barlume Downstairs (900 Broadway, between 19^th and 20^th Streets) through November 23^rd. For tickets and/or more information, click here.