Directing Life in the ‘Ladies’ Room’

Ever wonder what goes on in a ladies’ room? Kim Friedman doesn’t. She knows.

“I’m a big observer of life in a ladies’ room,” said the director, who’s staging Robin Schiff’s comedy “Ladies’ Room” (opening Sept. 8 at the Tiffany).

“When I lived in New York, I knew every great ladies’ room, because in Manhattan you don’t go home after work--you usually have 17 things to do: run here, run there, take subways and cabs. So often you’re getting revamped, or changing some place.

“It got to the point where I knew which ladies’ rooms had an electrical outlet under the sink, so I could plug in a curling iron if I got caught in a storm.”

The attachment goes way back.

“I really think there are ladies’ room people and non-ladies’ room people,” she said seriously. “When I was growing up in Atlantic City, the big thing was walking endlessly up and down this 8-mile stretch of Boardwalk. So it was imperative to know exactly which were the good ones where you could hang out--and the ones with a matron who’d make you leave.”

Beyond their obvious usefulness, she notes, restrooms serve as an emotional haven. “It’s like the neighborhood bar is for guys. You don’t see it so much here because of the car. You’re not walking between places as much as you do in New York. I’ve also had momentous conversations on the phones in ladies’ rooms: life-changing ones. I have friends who prefer hotel lobbies. I’ve always preferred ladies’ rooms. They’re more intimate.”

Although the director admits that this is strictly female turf (“Men talk dirty, but there’s nothing like two women talking--they always have details “), she believes the subject matter will traverse gender lines. “The outer level of the play is about the secrets of the ladies’ room, what goes on there that you never imagined. But on a deeper level, it’s about friendship.”

In spite of Friedman’s familiarity with her subject, this play (set in the restroom of a Mexican restaurant--complete with “real stalls and working sinks and toilets”), required some additional research. “The designers, producer and I went to about 110 ladies’ rooms,” she sighed. The best? “The one at the Bel Air Hotel is fabulous. And the one at Rex--I mean, my house should look like that ladies’ room.”

Lately, there hasn’t been a lot of time for household beautification. In addition to this play, Friedman is working with John Guare (whose “Rich and Famous” she directed at the Coronet in 1982) on a new play, “Moon Over Miami”--and with writer Michael O’Donahue on his movie, “Drop Dead.” She’s also making a name for herself in television: Sunday she’s up for an Emmy Award for her direction of an episode of “L.A. Law.”

The attraction to directing started when she was a little girl, singing in the chorus of summer-stock musicals.

“I never enjoyed the performing that much,” she noted, “but I loved that world. And when you’re a 10-year-old girl, who’s the person you identify with most? For me, it was the male director--because he was the person with the power, and seemingly, the intelligence to put the whole thing together.”

Today, Friedman laughingly refers to herself as a “directorette, or directress.” But for a long time it didn’t occur to her that sex might be a handicap. “I went to (New York University’s) theater school, then I started working for Joe Papp. It wasn’t till I came to L.A. that somebody told me, ‘You’re a girl director.’ I called Joe and said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me I was a girl director?’ ”

If Friedman does experience sex discrimination--or because she straddles the often mutually exclusive worlds of stage and TV--she “puts on blinders. I’m sure (the disapproval’s) there. I don’t care. Life’s too short. I had a big revelation a year after I moved here: Nobody els e really cares . Oh, they may gossip about you, but the only people you have to please are yourself and the people you love. Why are you running around worrying about what other people think?”

Friedman (whose favorite stage terrain is either new plays or work by “very dead playwrights--with no relatives who can sue you”) began working here nine years ago. She took classes at the American Film Institute “editing all night in a little room,” directed “wild, outrageous theater” for producer Peg Yorkin’s Los Angeles Shakespeare Festival, then rushed downtown every morning to a receptionist job in the garment district. “I was living in three worlds,” she recalled, “and I loved it.”

Her current world includes a marriage last year to lawyer Michael Siegel (who just opened a branch of the Improv in Chicago), balancing lives in both cities--and a 4 1/2-month pregnancy.

“Life has absolutely gone on,” Friedman said blithely. “I’ve been lucky--never been sick, never felt tired. And I have so much energy. I just wish I felt something. I have to keep saying, ‘You’re pregnant’--and waiting for it to dawn on me.”