We sat down for an exclusive interview with Liam Jedele, who will be taking on several roles across the three chapters of America the Beautiful.
The first commission from Greenwich Theatre Productions, America The Beautiful is the sensational UK premiere from Neil LaBute, an exclusive collection of savage short plays offering a uniquely skewed view of life and relationships in the modern world. Written over the past decade for the LaBute New Theater Festival in the US, these shorts will be brought together for the first time.
America the Beautiful runs from 9th-21st March at King’s Head Theatre, and from 30th March-4th April at Greenwich Theatre.
What initially attracted you to being part of the UK premiere of America The Beautiful?
First, thank you! What thoughtful questions. Part of my answer to this is embedded in the question itself: the opportunity to be part of the UK premiere of America The Beautiful by Neil LaBute, a playwright I deeply admire, was irresistible. I worked on his plays in drama school and have long been drawn to his bold language, unflinching honesty, and the fullness of his characters. To bring this particular collection to life, with its urgency and moral complexity, feels like a privilege. There’s also a personal dimension to this. As an American who has now lived in the UK for nearly five years, it’s been painful at times to watch my country, a country I love, become something I scarcely recognize. Being abroad can intensify that feeling… the desire to contribute, to participate in the cultural conversation back home. This production offers a way to do that through art. It feels like a way of engaging with America honestly, critically, and lovingly all at once.
How do you navigate the moral ambiguity and emotional sharpness that define NeilLaBute’s writing?
Neil’s characters are rarely comfortable people. They’re morally ambiguous, often flawed, and the emotional stakes are razor sharp. An acting teacher once told me that as actors we must love our characters. We don’t have to like them, but we have to love them. I return to that often. I think of it almost like legal defense: even the guilty deserve a fair trial. My responsibility is not to judge the character, but to advocate for them fully. The less I impose my own moral verdict, the more honestly the audience can arrive at theirs. If I fight for the character’s humanity… even when they behave terribly… then the audience is invited into a more complex and active form of moral judgment.
With three distinct short plays in Chapter One, how do you differentiate your performance across such varied and intense scenarios?
Each piece inhabits its own moral and emotional world. The themes differ, as do the characters’ wants, defenses, and vulnerabilities. They are each specific to their circumstances. If I return to that courtroom analogy: I wouldn’t defend a client in Hate Crime the same way I would in St. Louis. The people are different. The arguments are different. The stakes are different. The emotional logic is different. While audiences may notice thematic through-lines, for me it’s essential that each play feels self-contained. Its own world, with its own weather. That separation helps keep the performances distinct and truthful.
What has been the biggest challenge in bringing the raw intimacy of these pieces to life at King’s Head Theatre?
The intimacy of King’s Head is both a gift and a challenge. There is no real divide between actor and audience and so they’re close enough to feel implicated. The challenge with material this raw is resisting the urge to demonstrate intimacy for an audience. The work demands that we truly experience it… privately, truthfully… and allow the audience to observe. In such close proximity the work becomes more about surrender than projection.
LaBute’s work often exposes uncomfortable truths about relationships — how do you prepare to inhabit characters who may unsettle an audience?
I start with the understanding that no person is only one thing. These characters may say or do disturbing things, but they are still human. And the audience must be allowed to see that fullness… not a caricature of “good” or “evil”, but a person. Life is rarely binary. We are all confronted with morally ambiguous situations in our day-to-day lives. Theatre, at its best, gives us a space to examine those ambiguities safely. When an audience is made to wrestle with right and wrong, without easy answers, that’s not a failure of comfort; it’s the function of the art form. Beyond entertainment, theatre should illuminate, challenge, and expand empathy. That’s what this material dares to do.
As the production moves from the King’s Head to Greenwich Theatre, does the change in space affect the energy or dynamic of the performances?
Absolutely. Greenwich Theatre is a larger, less intimate space, and scale inevitably shifts energy. The work has to breathe differently on a bigger stage, but it must remain just as inviting and just as demanding of the audience. The proximity may change, but the intensity shouldn’t.