James Simon on Why Some Shows Flop and Others Surprise You

James Simon has produced Broadway revivals for over two decades, from the Tony-nominated Bells Are Ringing to the 2025 run of Operation Mincemeat. He talks about recognizing material that challenges people, learning when timing matters more than the work itself, and why mentorship keeps the industry honest.

James Simon is a theater producer based in New York City. His credits include the Tony-nominated Bells Are Ringing, the 2022 Broadway revival of Death of a Salesman, and the March 2025 opening of Operation Mincemeat. He serves on the board of Untitled Theater Company 61 and is a contributing member of Theater Resources Unlimited.

How did you get into producing after starting as a performer?

I was about five when I got up on stage for the first time. I just knew it was where I wanted to be. Not for fame, but because I felt alive there. I grew up in Westchester, New York, playing drums and doing school plays. I went to Emerson College in Boston and got my Bachelor of Science in 1988. While I was there, I did college radio. I loved telling stories and curating experiences. Radio taught me pacing, mood, and voice. All things I later applied to theater.

After a brief stint in professional radio, I moved to New York City to pursue acting. I appeared in Off-Broadway shows and indie films and even landed a cameo on Saturday Night Live. But something shifted. I realized I was more interested in the whole process than just performing. I wanted to help build the story from the ground up. That’s when I made the leap into producing in the 1990s.

What was one of your early producing highlights?

I joined production teams for a variety of underground artists and gradually moved up to lead producer on major revivals. One of my early highlights was On the Waterfront in 1995. A few years later, I worked on Play On! and eventually earned my Tony nomination for Bells Are Ringing in 2001. There’s no formula in theater. Some shows flop that you thought would soar. Some surprise you. It’s art, it’s subjective. You just try to put out work you believe in.

Some shows flop that you thought would soar. Some surprise you. It’s art, it’s subjective.

What do people consistently get wrong about your work?

They assume a show that closed quickly was bad. I produced a show in the early ’90s that closed quickly. But recently, a UK company revived it on a shoestring budget and it earned rave reviews. It wasn’t a financial win for me back then, but seeing it thrive years later, I felt vindicated. Like I had seen something real, even if the timing was off. People don’t always understand that timing and context matter as much as the material itself.

How do you choose which projects to take on?

I like material that challenges people. Operation Mincemeat is a good example. It’s a darkly comedic WWII musical that came to Broadway in March 2025 from a successful UK run. It’s not your typical Broadway musical. It’s clever, strange, and emotional. That’s what drew me to it. I spend my time attending festivals, reading scripts, and supporting new talent. I’m always amazed by the creativity I see at arts festivals, especially in places like Edinburgh. It keeps me curious.

Is there a skill you learned outside theater that still helps you now?

College radio, without question. Radio taught me how to curate an experience and control pacing. You’re guiding someone through something they can’t see. Theater is the same. You’re building mood, managing transitions, finding the right voice for the story. Those lessons carried over directly when I started producing.

Have you worked outside theater at all?

I’ve dabbled in film. I served as executive producer on A Tale of Two Pizzas in 2003. But theater is where I stay. Unlike some producers, I avoid becoming a brand. I don’t post flashy behind-the-scenes content or lead with my résumé. This business is built on community. You can’t do it alone. And if you’re lucky, you find people who challenge you and keep you honest.

This business is built on community. You can’t do it alone.

Who taught you to take risks early on?

When I was just starting out, there was this one guy, Randall. He brought me into the room and taught me to take risks. Some of those shows didn’t make money, but a few became hits. That’s how theater evolves. You have to shake things up. I’m a board member of Untitled Theater Company 61 and a contributing member of Theater Resources Unlimited, a nonprofit that supports emerging producers and artists. Mentorship and collaboration are priorities for me. You pass on what you were given.

What keeps you grounded when a project doesn’t work out?

Friends. It sounds cliché, but that’s what friends are for. There were times I questioned everything. But someone always reminded me why I started. My downtime includes skiing, concerts, and traveling. These things help me reset and sometimes inspire new projects. Like many in creative fields, I’ve faced burnout and doubt. You need people who keep you honest and things outside the work that remind you why you love it.

What makes a production feel successful to you now?

The best feeling is when someone tells me they saw a show I worked on years ago and they still think about it. Even if it wasn’t a hit, it meant something. That’s enough for me. I don’t need my name to be known. I want the work to stick. Some shows make money, some don’t. But if it stays with people, if it made them feel something real, then it did what it was supposed to do.

What advice would you give someone starting out in producing today?

Find people who challenge you. Don’t chase trends or try to replicate what worked five years ago. Put out work you believe in, even if the timing feels off. And get involved in the community early. Join organizations like Theater Resources Unlimited. Go to festivals. Read constantly. You’re not going to learn this from a book. You learn it by being in the room and paying attention to what works and what doesn’t.

Put out work you believe in, even if the timing feels off.

Is there a type of show you still want to produce but haven’t yet?

I’m always looking for material that’s clever, strange, and emotional. Something that doesn’t fit neatly into a category. I’ve been lucky to work on projects like Operation Mincemeat and the 2022 revival of Death of a Salesman. But I’m still reading, still going to festivals, still talking to writers. The next thing that excites me could come from anywhere. That’s what keeps me curious.

What stays true in theater no matter how much the industry changes?

Community. Collaboration. The fact that you can’t do it alone. The industry changes constantly. Funding shifts, audiences change, platforms evolve. But the core of it is still people in a room trying to tell a story that means something. That hasn’t changed since I was five years old on a stage in Westchester. And I don’t think it ever will.