At just 31, James Cusati-Moyer has already made a remarkable impact in theatre and film. After debuting on Broadway in Six Degrees of Separation in 2017, he gained widespread recognition with a Tony nomination for his compelling portrayal of Dustin in Slave Play (in 2020). This groundbreaking production delves into how historical racial trauma manifests through generations, exploring complex sexual dynamics among couples undergoing an experimental therapy called Antebellum Sexual Performance Therapy.
Not so long ago, playing in London’s West End until September 21, 2024, the play has garnered critical acclaim and even inspired an HBO documentary, though it has also sparked controversy and faced calls for its closure during its off-Broadway run in 2018. Following this, Cusati-Moyer starred in Sacred Creatures, a darkly comic film examining faith, family, and the fine line between spiritual awakening and psychosis, that released on September 9th in Canada. With each project, Cusati-Moyer continues to showcase his exceptional talent, bringing depth and insight to challenging and provocative roles.
In this exclusive interview, James Cusati-Moyer opens up about his multicultural roots, the challenges of inhabiting such intense roles, and how he processes both the acclaim and controversy surrounding Slave Play. He also shares a glimpse into his experience with Sacred Creatures. This actor continues to challenge the boundaries of storytelling, creating conversations that resonate both on stage and off.
As a queer actor, how has your identity influenced the types of roles you choose or the way you approach characters, especially in productions like Slave Play where queerness and identity intersect with broader societal themes?
My identity influences everything and yet nothing at all. It’s simultaneously immaterial and yet priceless to the job at hand. My personal life informs the body, and the body is meant to be a vessel — a container for another person. The conjurer if you will. You get to choose your way in and how you get there. You have to be prepared to throw everything of yourself that way towards what you’re seeking in a role, either as a sacrifice or an exorcism. It depends on the day and weather in the sky. Quite queer.
The word anhedonia — the inability to experience joy or pleasure — is a recurring theme in Slave Play. Director Robert O’Hara has mentioned that the play is about pleasure, consent, and partnership, and that much of his work involves translating theory into experiences on stage. How do you think the play challenges audiences to rethink ideas around racial privilege and pleasure?
It challenges them by making them squirm or laugh or cry in their own seat while watching their own reflection. I can’t speak to an individual’s own personal experience of rethinking their own ideas or feelings on the intersection between race and sexuality, that’s for them to go through and talk about. But I will say the intersection, let’s talk visually for a second: every corner of the street, Everyone has a green light and everyone in the play (including the audience) is driving 80mph with blindfolds on. And after they crash, they fuck. Or try to. And then they talk about it. The play exists somewhere there.
In a previous interview, you described Slave Play as a metaphor for our modern condition, one that raises questions about privilege and taking up space rather than offering clear answers. Would you say this reflects your view of theatre's role, more as a medium for provoking thought than providing solutions?
I think it’s more powerful when theatre asks questions and provokes, taunts, tickles, punches, dances, explodes and blooms in front of everyone and allows the audience to figure things out for themselves rather than dictating to them how they should feel. If a solution is born from that, that is wonderful, I guess? If that’s what the play wants. Or if someone is looking for a solution. We have to quote James Baldwin, “The role of the artist is exactly the same as the role of the lover. If I love you, I have to make you conscious of the things you don’t see.” And I love every audience member equally.
You have emphasised how art can expand our sympathetic imagination while also revealing its limits, noting the importance of active listening for white audience members of Slave Play. How do you think they can better recognise their privilege and engage with the play's deeper themes critically, rather than just seeking entertainment?
With self-awareness and humility. This involves acknowledging the historical and systemic nature of racism and their own role within it. Active listening, as you mentioned, is crucial —paying attention to the experiences and emotions portrayed, rather than dismissing or intellectualising them. They should also reflect on their own biases and comfort levels, recognising that discomfort can be a catalyst for growth. Perhaps engaging in post-show discussions, reading critical analyses, and supporting marginalised voices can further foster a deeper understanding of the play's themes and their implications. It’s just a start.
You've emphasised the importance of saying no and setting professional boundaries, noting that your no is part of the creative process and holds value. What led you to recognise and embrace this perspective?
It came from experiencing burnout and compromising my artistic vision. Early in my career, I felt pressured to take on every role and opportunity, but this led to exhaustion and dissatisfaction. Working with directors and collaborators who respected my boundaries and valued my input showed me the importance of asserting myself. I also drew inspiration from actors and artists who prioritised their well-being and creative integrity. By embracing no as a valid choice, I've been able to prioritise projects that truly resonate with me and maintain a healthy work-life balance, ultimately enriching my craft. No is saying yes in a reverse spell kind of a way.
You've made quite a mark on Broadway — how do you balance the intensity of live theatre with maintaining a personal life and mental well-being?
It requires intentional self-care and boundary-setting for me. This includes prioritising rest, exercise, and mindfulness practices, as well as safeguarding time for loved ones and personal interests outside of the theatre. By compartmentalising my actor and person selves, I aim to protect my mental and emotional energy, ensuring I can bring my fullest, and hopefully most authentic self to each performance.
Sacred Creatures explores topics of devotion, faith and divinity, all deeply rooted in Italian Catholicism inclusive of its regional mysticism and Saint Worship. Did the exploration of these themes in Sacred Creatures resonate with you on a personal level?
I think we have to look to something that’s greater than ourselves, and this could change on a daily basis. We have to look up, and inward, every day to whatever our greater thing or power is. To work on a film that deals with this topic of faith and belief and the divine — it’s quite the fun landscape to make choices as an actor, especially as a character who is really wrestling with these themes in his own life or his disbelief of such. There’s more room for the mystery to flood in on camera.
With Sacred Creatures released in Canada, what were you most excited for audiences to experience, and were there any memorable moments from the set that left a lasting impact on you?
The rich culture, talent, beauty, and heart of the people of Italy.
For someone who is a shapeshifter as a career, it’d be interesting to know, when do you feel most yourself?
I’m thinking of two scenarios. During the first hour I wake up with coffee in bed. And when I’m getting ready in my dressing room. Preparation. Peace. Engine getting turned on. With deafening quiet around me.