Interview with “Reunions” lyricist Jeffrey Scharf and composer Jimmy Calire

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By Jack Quinn, Publisher, TheaterScene.net

Directed and choreographed by Gabriel Barre and currently running through December 14 at New York City Center Stage II, REUNIONS is a new musical built from two early-twentieth-century one-act plays—J.M. Barrie’s The Twelve-Pound Look and the Quintero Brothers’ A Sunny Morning. It’s a deceptively gentle evening: melodic, elegant, unhurried. But beneath its Edwardian satin is a contemporary pulse—the longing for reconnection, the ache of paths not taken, and the quiet courage it takes to reach back toward someone you once loved.

Review of Reunions also on Theaterscene.net by Victor Gluck

With a cast that includes Chip Zien, Chilina Kennedy, Courtney Reed, Joanna Glushak, Bryan Fenkart, and several others, the production leans into intimacy rather than spectacle. And behind that intimacy are the two men who shaped it: bookwriter/lyricist Jeffrey Scharf and composer Jimmy Calire, both speaking from California in a November 14 Zoom conversation after two intense weeks in New York.

What follows is an exploration of their process, drawn from that conversation—how these stories emerged, how they found their emotional key, and how Reunions asks its audiences, softly but unmistakably: What if the second act is still possible?

Origins: A Used Bookstore in Ojai

The creation of Reunions began not in a rehearsal room or writing retreat but in the aisles of Bart’s Books, the iconic open-air used bookstore in Ojai, California.

“I found this book of thirty famous one-act plays,” Scharf said. “Barrie and the Quintero Brothers were both in there. They each had commentary, and there was a preface praising A Sunny Morning as one of the editor’s favorites.”

Two plays—one from London, one from Madrid. Two stories of lovers who meet again after decades apart. Two different theatrical vocabularies, but one deep emotional resonance.

“Because they share this theme of lovers meeting again by chance after years apart,” he continued, “I thought they could go together.”

A Sunny Morning stood out for another reason.

“It gives seventy-year-olds a romantic arc,” Scharf said. “That’s why Chip and Joanna wanted to do it. It’s unusual for actors of their age.”

Barrie’s The Twelve-Pound Look had its own allure.

“It’s ahead of its time in terms of sexism, power, and the cost of success,” he added. “Honestly, the Barrie reads like it’s ready to be musicalized. You can see the song titles jump off the page.”

Adapting the Edwardians: Gender, Class, and Restraint

Theater from the early 1900s carries its own set of challenges—some charming, some troubling.

“The way women were treated—particularly upper-class women—fascinated us,” Scharf said. “There’s a line: ‘When something needs to be done, a woman of quality rings for the servants.’ They were expected to be ornamental.”

He lingered on the peculiarity of such social logic—how women of status were meant not to act, but to direct others to act on their behalf. It was elegant, yes, but also deeply confining.

Musically, the era posed its own dilemma.

“I was perplexed about the aesthetic,” Scharf admitted. “Should the music sound period-specific? Gilbert & Sullivan? How do we keep it contemporary while honoring the time?”

This was where Calire’s instincts came into play—instincts that lean toward honesty rather than analysis.

Musical Language: Speech, Rhythm, and the Lyric Line

“I always start with rhythm and speech,” Calire said. “The lyric has to sing.”

Rather than approach the score academically, he followed the natural cadence of spoken language.

“I start singing the lines, usually with chords that fit how someone might speak. The harmonic language evolved as I went.”

The first workshop, done in Ojai, led Calire to a discovery.

“I orchestrated the workshop version myself and leaned too jazzy—horns and all. It didn’t fit. So I brought in Sonny Paladino.”

Together, they built a score that honors the Edwardian period without fossilizing it.

“We talked about preserving the period without becoming Gilbert & Sullivan,” Calire said, “but also not turning it into Hamilton.”

The Structural Thread: Prologue, Entr’acte, Epilogue

The idea to connect the two plays through an emotional thread came from director Gabriel Barre.

“Gabe came up with the idea of the prologue, entr’acte, and epilogue,” Scharf explained. “The prologue tells the audience: you’re seeing two different shows. The epilogue links them emotionally.”

The connective tissue is simple yet resonant:
a second chance at connection.

“It’s not just about lovers,” Scharf said. “It’s broader. Siblings, friends, people divided by politics. If it makes someone think, ‘I should call so-and-so,’ that’s a success.”

Social Hierarchy — Onstage and Off

Hierarchy threads through both plays—not only class hierarchy, but also the micro-hierarchies within servant culture.

“The opening number is about being ‘in service to a knight,’” Scharf said. “Ashley Wenn Collins, our assistant director, brought in a drawing called The Beehive—showing the layers of British society. People at every level were conscious of their status.”

That awareness surfaces in the staging, the lyrics, and the performances, giving the show texture that feels both specific and universal.

A Personal Lens on Reunions

When asked whether either man had experienced a meaningful reunion while writing the show, Calire’s answer opened a window into his own history.

“I try to have reunions all the time,” he said. “I call old friends on long drives.”

Then came the story that shaped his understanding of the theme.

“I was in a band back in the ’60s,” he said. “We used to play in New York at The Scene. We broke up in ’71, and twenty-three years later we had a reunion. We packed houses in Buffalo. I’ll never forget it.”

That blend of nostalgia and reclaiming sits at the heart of Reunions.

Building the Score: Compression, Expansion, Revelation

Some moments in the plays cried out for song.

“Sometimes the song simply replaces dialogue,” Scharf said. “It makes the moment more interesting.”

In The Twelve-Pound Look, they brought offstage characters into the musical foreground.

“The second wife appears in her wedding dress, vivacious, contrasted with the mousy woman the typist first encounters,” Scharf explained.

They also crafted a new backstory for Harry through song.

“He gets a number about being mocked as a child and rising to wealth. It gives him a self-made-man side the play never shows.”

Meanwhile, A Sunny Morning is ripe with comic invention.

“The stories the characters tell each other—perfect for comic songs,” Scharf said.

Both plays gain emotional clarity through musicalization rather than embellishment.

Crafting Collaboration: Conversation → Lyrics → Music

The collaboration between Scharf and Calire flows in one dependable direction.

“Conversation first,” Calire said. “Then Jeffrey brings lyrics. I shape music around them.”

His flexibility became an asset.

“The lyrics weren’t perfect at first,” Calire added. “Variation is natural.”

Scharf laughed when describing Calire’s relentlessness.

“If I said something needed to change,” he said, “there was a new draft in my inbox by morning.”

Rehearsal Discoveries: Comedy, Accents, and Surprise

City Center’s Stage II is a thrust space with its own demands, and performers brought unexpected dimensions to the show.

“Chip and Joanna added physical comedy in the park-bench scene that’s hilarious,” Scharf said.

Another spontaneous bit—Gonzalo’s reaction to a strolling accordionist—became a recurring joke.

As for language and style, authenticity mattered.

“We brought in diction coaches,” Scharf said. “The servants had to sound different from the aristocrats. Spanish required more coaching. Joanna rolls her R’s in one moment—it’s wonderful.”

Audience reactions also became part of the process.

“There are lines that work every time, lines that work sometimes,” Scharf said. “I sit there obsessively taking notes.”

City Center: A Room That Shapes the Work

The thrust layout creates both opportunities and limitations.

“Some bits are hilarious from one angle and invisible from another,” Scharf said. “But it’s an elegant space. The set is elegant. The costuming is beautiful.”

Sound posed its own challenges.

“The band is in two different places,” he noted.

Yet the intimacy of the room—only six rows deep—allows audiences to see performers like Chilina Kennedy or Courtney Reed at a proximity rarely possible elsewhere.

What Happens After December 14

Both men hope the show has a life beyond New York.

“We’re hoping for licensing,” Scharf said. “Some foreign interest. A regional transfer would be beautiful.”

Calire added:

“Returning to the Rubicon in Ventura would feel full circle. Now that it’s played New York, maybe people will pick up the phone.”

Final Notes: The Emotional Invitation

As our Zoom call wound down, the conversation circled back to the theme that had started it all: second acts.

I asked whether love, identity, or connection ever truly gets one. Scharf answered with quiet candor:

“We’ve been asking people to share their stories — reunions they’ve experienced. We thought someone might say, ‘That happened to me.’ And some have.

I searched the New York Times wedding stories — they sometimes feature second-chance reunions — but I couldn’t find anyone recent enough to contact.”

On paper, it’s a simple reflection. Spoken aloud, it felt like the entire musical in miniature—a gentle, earnest hope for reconnection.

Because at its core, Reunions is not nostalgia. It’s not a period exercise. It’s a conversation about the people who drifted from our lives for reasons that weren’t catastrophic, merely human.

A sibling you haven’t called.
A friend you miss but never say so.
A love that ended quietly, without anger.

The musical stands in that private space and invites its audience — softly, almost shyly — to consider what might happen if they reached out.

A message not spoken in the play, but present in every beat of it:

What if the second act is yours to begin?