For decades, Joel Ferrell has been shaping the American stage with productions that are as ambitious as they are emotionally incisive. From the bold stages of the Dallas Theater Center to the founding vision of the G. Marlyne Sexton Institute for Musical Theatre at SMU, Ferrell has moved through the world of theater like a quiet revolution. His work bends the arc of performance toward justice, reinvention, and soul—reimagining what theater is, and dreaming aloud what it might yet become. Whether he’s reimagining Cabaret through the lens of historical horror or advocating for fearless, radically inclusive performance spaces, Ferrell brings a rare blend of rigor and empathy to every role he inhabits—director, choreographer, educator, producer. As he receives the Linda and Bill Custard Award from Dallas Theater Center, Ferrell reflects on his career, his community, and what it means to keep creating with curiosity, generosity, and conviction.
PATRON: As a director, producer, choreographer, and educator your goal for live theater has remained the same: “To alter the consciousness of each audience member by telling a story with such a fresh and passionate point of view that the shared experience will change their perspective in some way.” Will you point to specific works when you felt this intention was clearly demonstrated?
Joel Ferrell: I was fortunate that Kevin (Moriarty) asked me to direct Cabaret a few years ago, a show that changed my understanding of musicals when I was young, and a masterwork of American Musical Theater in its original production. We partnered with the Dallas Holocaust and Human Rights Museum, and I came across some history I didn’t know, about lavish holiday parties the Nazis would have at the concentration camps. An image came to me of laughter and celebration and excess, surrounded by the worst human suffering imaginable. For the final moment, as the Nazi, Ernst, and his girlfriend danced and laughed in their opulent evening wear, a massive curtain dropped to reveal naked humans huddled together in the distance awaiting the “showers.” I had been looking for an ending that would haunt an audience, leave them quiet—and it often did.
P: During your tenure as the former associate artistic director at Dallas Theater Center, you directed several critically acclaimed productions and also produced musicals. Will you share some of your proudest moments?
JF: Well, every production at DTC was a massive collaborative effort and often offered me the opportunity to assemble creative teams of extraordinary and disparate artists. I was very proud of our production of Horton Foote’s Dividing the Estate starring June Squibb and a glorious ensemble. I called it my “Texas Chekhov” project. I was also deeply proud of reasons to be pretty, part of a Neil Labute trilogy, because it was a very simple, raw production, totally dependent on the four actors’ bravery every performance. And I dearly loved Dreamgirls, another example of a creative team stretching themselves and their resources in brilliant ways. And though I was really a minor, supportive player, Fortress of Solitudeand Fly by Night hold special places in my heart.
P: In times of social and political upheaval, fostering community bonds becomes even more essential. You’ve said, “In this moment, live theater should be nimble, radically inclusive, and available to everyone.”
JF: This may be the mission I am most passionate about. I’m afraid we often forget that for centuries, theater was performed outside, in theaters as well as on the back of wagons and on street corners. We need more portable, daring theater—in found spaces, in parks, in rec centers, in parking garages. We need to let audiences inform us, interact in new ways, stay after, and party. We have formed so many structural rules and norms, I worry we spend more time telling audiences what they can’t do instead of how they can participate. And price point is often obscene. Some productions will be expensive due to their technological infrastructure, but some of my all-time favorite productions were so simple. I would start by declaring that audiences 21 and under attend free, but that’s why no one lets me make the rules—probably wise.
P: You are receiving the Linda and Bill Custard Award from Dallas Theater Center in recognition of your body of work in theater. How does it feel to receive the award in light of Bill’s recent passing? Do your recall and conversations you had with Bill about theater?
JF: This question is hard. I recently lost my mother, and I have hoped Linda has been surrounded by love and support as I have been. Receiving this award is genuinely overwhelming for so many reasons: I still think I’m just getting started—still trying to “get it right,” trying not to think about the past, only what’s coming next. No one expects to be honored in this way. But Bill and Linda have been devoted, active arts patrons with a relentless dedication that has inspired me tremendously. Bill’s passion never wavered, he and Linda were always looking ahead, and his joy and humor were infectious, and lifted me in times of worry (and I’m a world-class worrier). Bill and Linda’s body of work humbles and inspires me to keep going, to tell stories that allow us to recognize our beautiful, shared humanity, and like Bill, a joyous laugh!
P: You have directed and produced for numerous theaters across they US. In what ways has your work been especially gratifying?
JF: I know I have a loving family of collaborators and friends from coast to coast and beyond. In the same way DFW has a magnificent community of local artists who rival the best on Broadway, so too does Denver, Portland, Pittsburgh, OKC, Birmingham, Rochester, and so many more. I’m proud of so much of the work I’ve done around the U.S., but people make theater, and from tech crews to front of house to assistant stage managers, I remember every kind, dedicated team member with such love and gratitude. What a gift.
P: When is theater at its best?
JF: When it’s fearless. We all doubt ourselves, many of us fret what critics will say, or if we are dependable and re-hirable, but I would rather see a piece of theater with big ambition, big ideas, and big flaws, than something polished and safe. Maybe some of that is just “where I am in life,” but it’s hard to argue that audiences should leave their comfy couch and Netflix to come to the theater if we are not striving to make this shared ritual unforgettable.
P: You are currently the Professor of Practice in Theatre and the inaugural director of the G. Marlyne Sexton Institute for Musical Theatre at Meadows School of the Arts. Will you please describe the program?
JF: The new program is rooted in three driving principles: First, to give students exemplary training, delivering them the knowledge and skill to be generative artists who bring their full humanity and intellect to the creative process. Secondly, Sexton Institute students will explore new, inventive work by rising composers and lyricists, while also investigating and reconceiving older, sometime forgotten work, with an eye toward radical inclusivity. And third, we want students to benefit from being in a great liberal arts university, to be deeply curious of history, literature, philosophy and more as they are developing as young adults. College is the time to explore, question, and dream in new ways.
P: How has theater evolved during your years as a director?
JF: Oh Lord, how long do we have? Theater is never NOT evolving and I’m wildly excited by what I’m seeing but also concerned that non-profit staffs have never been more exhausted. The American model is a weird hybrid of mission driven goals and commercial mind-set. Trying to make thrilling work while fielding endless questions about “what will sell” will drive all of us mad. We forget that commercial businesses depend utterly on advertising and marketing dollars—BIG dollars. How many State Farm Insurance ads have you seen in the last month—and I don’t believe State Farm is hurting for profits. We in nonprofit arts are somehow expected to use email blasts and facebook to make miracles at the box office. I’m no where near giving up, but we must be honest about the challenge. The talented artists are all around us, bursting with ideas, it’s resources that are tricky.
P: Do you have any exciting projects on the horizon.
JF: Well, I’m over the moon about Ragtime next season in collaboration with DTC and The Sexton Institute. I believe the show is a masterwork and captures E.L. Doctorow’s novel brilliantly, and the score by Ahrens and Flaherty is stunning. I’m also working to develop an immersive musical about the Deep Ellum music scene of the late 20s and early 30s set just as the city demolished a neighborhood to create Fair Park. And I’m very excited about our “boutique,” immersive production of Xanadu at Theatre Three in June. We all need some crazy, silly joy in our life.
At a time when the future of live performance feels both uncertain and urgently necessary, Joel Ferrell remains unwavering in his belief that theater must do more than entertain, it must transform. Whether he’s mentoring the next generation of performers or devising new ways to make theater more accessible, Ferrell continues to challenge the art form from within. With Ragtime and Xanadu on the horizon, and an original musical unfolding exploring the soul of Deep Ellum, he presses forward—not to bask in past glories, but to chase the next spark of wonder. As he says, he’s “still trying to get it right.” For audiences and collaborators alike, that restless dedication is the real award.