Windy City Times’ relationship with local LGBTQ+ actor Daniel Kyri extends back several years, when he was named one of this news outlet’s 30 Under 30. Since then, he has come quite a long way, including turning what initially was a short arc on the show Chicago Fire into a role that lasted several seasons and ended earlier this year. Now, Kyri is starring in a six-episode audio adaptation of Hamlet; the work was made possible through the Make-Believe Association, the Chicago company behind the award-winning audio drama Lake Song.
Recently, Kyri provided a full-circle moment, talking with Windy City Times about his work (past, present and future) as well as several other topics.
Note: This conversation was edited for clarity and length.
Windy City Times: Before we talk about anything else, what do you remember about your night as a 30 Under 30 honoree?
Daniel Kyri: I remember that it was on the South Side [at the Polo Cafe]. Also, I was with my writing partner at the time, Bea Cordelia; we had just released What’s the T?
WCT: I understand that you were slated to be on Chicago Fire for three episodes—and you ended up being on that show for 130+ episodes. Take me through the evolution of your character on Fire.
DK: In the beginning, the storyline was in service to one of the series’ regulars at that time—Christian Stolte, who plays Mouch; he entered a mentorship role with my character in a development that would cause Ritter [Kyri’s character] to leave the CFD. We actually saw that happen; however, instead of the story ending there, we see Mouch and Hermann [played by David Eigenberg] come together to change my character’s mind. Then, over the years, my character becomes a staple in the firehouse. He becomes a voice of reason over the years and we see him grow in his capacity as a first responder and firefighter; he becomes really dependable and solid. There are a few instances I can remember in which my character really got to change some lives.
Then, my favorite comes out—at least on the show, if not specifically to the other characters in the firehouse. That happens in my second season on the show. Then, we see him in a couple relationships on the show. Basically, we get to see some of [Ritter’s] humanity unfold whenever we were afforded the opportunity to play in that space.
WCT: By the way, I always thought the background firefighters were actors—but they’re not.
DK: That’s right. A lot of the firefighters who you see in the background are actual current or retired firefighters. There’s even one of the central cast—guest star Tony Ferraris [who plans a character with the same name]—who, up until season 12, was a firefighter the whole time. So there was a lot of influence and what I like to call “living memory”; as an actor, that was pretty valuable because they could answer any questions I had about mechanics of movement [as well as] other things. That all contributed to a sense of authenticity on the show.
WCT: Unfortunately, your character’s run has ended. How did you react when you found out?
DK: I think, as someone who brought the character to life for seven years, there’s a wealth of experience there—and I always feel that there’s more to do, in terms of representation for us. But, in this case, I think the run came to a natural conclusion. As a result, I feel more ready than ever to tell other stories. So, for me, it was a thing that happened, and I’ve had time to digest it. I’m excited to see what other spaces need me.
WCT: What does queer representation mean to you?
DK: In order to answer this question, I have to go back to my foundation as an artist and my core beliefs. I believe that being an artist and storyteller is such a great responsibility. There’s fun and excitement, as storytellers occupy a very flashy space in our society—very glamorous. But in order to get to the glamour and polish, we have to undergo this journey of truth-telling that is sometimes not very pretty. And it’s our job to represent—and there’s that word again—the full spectrum of humanity however we can.
Because I believe that and [because] that is my approach to art and creation, at my core is a belief in what I call “radical representation”—which is a more holistic approach to how we tell stories and whose stories get told. That means that you have to have a certain level of discernment when approaching certain stories. If you’re telling the story of a queer Black man from the South Side of Chicago, there are so many approaches you can take—and there are so many sensitivities that are attached because of the history of how these characters have been treated. Relegating these characters to the sidelines, only to put them out front because they’re dark-skinned or visibly queer and to make jokes of them—that’s what I would call visibility, which is not the same as representation. To me, visibility is a step away from tokenism. And to get out of that sticky space of visibility—which is very self-congratulatory instead of being rooted in the work—you need people whose points of view offer authenticity in terms of experience. You need a writers’ room that includes a person of color, a woman, a femme person, a queer person; you need Black and queer bodies behind the cameras and on set. You need diversity. You need every aspect of storytelling to actually and accurately reflect the world we live in. That’s my vision of representation.
There are distinctions between tokenism, visibility and representation, and the North Star is authenticity. When I watch something, I can always tell when a creator says, “We have a Black characters, but there’s nothing Black about that person other than the color of that person’s skin”—and I don’t believe in that. When representation is wielded properly, it can be this wonderful tool that we can use to elicit empathy—which is the whole point of all of this.
WCT: I also want to talk with you about Hamlet. This audio adaptation is not your first time playing this role, correct?
DK: That’s right.
WCT: So how does this Hamlet differ from the king you’ve portrayed previously?
DK: Well, the first difference—and the most significant—is me.
I call them attempts, really, as there’s always more to discover if you get the chance to revisit the character. The challenge is not to get it right but to see what you can mine from it. My first attempt at playing Hamlet was in the summer os 2018—and what’s interesting is that my attempts bookended my experiences on Chicago Fire. I was in a Gift Theatre production of Hamlet in Jefferson Park when I was cast in the show and, now, I’m doing this version as I’m exiting the show. But I’m a different person now, I’ve had different experiences and I’m older. I was in my early 20s when I did Hamlet the first time, and my perspective has changed. So getting to retread those tracks is a blessing, really, because I’ve been forced to encounter the ways I’ve changed in relation to the world around me. I think the world has always been the way it is, but we’ve been able to peel back some layers—and I think that closely mirrors Hamlet’s own experience.
Now, the difference between doing it on stage and in this context is, again, something I have to credit my years on Chicago Fire to; I was able to acquire a skill set that I can use. The technical skills you gain in being able to tell a cohesive story and arc [are invaluable]. As an actor, you’re executing things in a disjointed fashion; our schedule is chaotic in that we had to film so many things out of sequence. In this production, we did things out of order; in 2018, you’re just along for the ride from the beginning to the end.
Also, this was just really special. I got to record at Tightrope Recording, in Ravenswood, and there were other actors in the space with me—although there were other times in which I just recorded through Zoom or another livestream element with people in New York. And, of course, I did the soliloquies; I would have the lights turned down low and I asked people to leave the area. It was really intimate in a way that you don’t usually get to experience Shakespeare’s work.
When you are listening, you are put inside Hamlet’s head, and that was achieved by essentially turning me into a microphone. [Sound designer] Mikhail Fiksel designed this way of recording that’s akin to motion capture. I’m strapped to high heaven in microphones and there are other actors around me. When you’re listening, if someone’s speaking in my left ear then they’re speaking in your left ear. It’s a surprisingly immersive experience when you’re listening on your headphones and listening to the story. Doing it this way has changed me as an artist.
WCT: I saw photos from the Chicago launch of this Hamlet, and the audience was really focused and immersed. The closest thing I could think of was this silent disco I went to once. [Laughs] People are just interpreting music on their own terms.
DK: Yes! It’s really funny that you say that because that’s kind of how I’ve been describing it: “It’s Hamlet in a silent disco.” I hope that we get to do more productions like that; I’ve been talking with Jeremy McCarter of Make-Believe Association, who directed the project, about doing some more pop-up satellite events like that. Being in a room full of people but being in your own experience is so close to what Hamlet experiences in the beginning of the play; there are themes of isolation throughout but the experience of solitude can be helpful.
WCT: I started talking about 30 Under 30. What is your advice to queer teens and young adults about coming out and being authentic?
DK: Oh, gosh—it’s such a difficult question because each person is the expert of their own experience and, hopefully, of their own needs.
I think curiosity is maybe a pathway to understanding the self. We don’t get to have many models of helpful experiences of Black and queer people. All I can say is to say what worked for me. It took a lot of learning and unlearning in order for me to get to the space where I am. I now refuse to shrink myself to make myself palatable; I much prefer that someone choke on all of me. It takes confidence, self-esteem and self-love to do that—but I think we see models of self-hate more often than self-love.
Another thing that helped me was literature but that may not be everyone’s bag—especially right now. There are book bans and cell phones that prevent us from engaging with other ideas or [potentially helpful] reflections of ourselves. Those were the tools I was able to find a shape that felt like me, and that helped me to find the right perspectives and language.
What I would say is to get curious and honest, and to learn to trust your instincts—and to invest more energy in loving yourself and finding your own voice. Once you cultivate that, just keep going.
WCT: Do you have other projects going on?
DK: You’ll be able to hear me in a different context soon. I’m releasing my debut music project—an EP called Childish Games. There are four songs on it and I’m releasing it on July 18. I’m in Idaho right now but I’m planning my rollout for it. This has been inside me for quite a while and it’s closer to my voice as an artist.