I'm baaaack

Holy shit! Has it really been over a month since I’ve updated? You may well ask, “How much can possibly happen in four weeks?” Well, plenty, bitches! That’s at least eight Beauty and the Beast rehearsals, three Broadway shows, auditions for Pineda Summer Conservatory, the Top Chef season finale, and a Super Bowl! Unfortunately, my “real” job has encroached upon my prime blogging time. Who knew the tanking economy would keep me busier than ever at ye old Morgan Stanley? Oh well, a girl’s gotta’ eat.

Where to start even? I guess I’ll have to blog separately about my January show-going. But I have to say, some great stuff - In The Heights, Speed the Plow, August: Osage County and Altar Boyz (for the fourth, fifth time?). I guess the big news was Pineda Lyric’s rescheduling of Carmen to the fall. Thank God, as I was shitting bricks wondering how we were going to cast the remaining roles with only a couple of weeks before the scheduled start of rehearsals. The only downside to the rescheduling was I had forgotten I rented a couple of Carmen DVD’s from the Lincoln Center library and by the time I had remembered to return them, I owed $35 in overdue fees. Ouch. At least now I’ll have the summer to figure out what the hell my concept will be for this show.

My other big project has been choreographing Beauty and the Beast for South Plainfield HS. OK, full disclosure time. Never in my life had I ever imagined I’d be schlepping out to Jersey to choreograph a high school show. It’s not the “high school” part or the “Jersey” part that I find so unbelievable, it’s that fact that I’m known as a “choreographer.” I seriously started in the biz years ago as a “singer who moves” and now I’m a “choreographer.” It sort of makes me laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. I mean, I was nominated for a Perry Award for Outstanding Choreography!(?) That makes me seriously question the quality of Jersey community theatre if I’m considered the top of the heap. Oh well, it’s an honor just to be nominated (barf).

Let’s see, what else? Well, I think my now regular Sunday night bus rides back to the city from Jersey are seriously cursed. Two weeks ago, just a mile or two short of the Lincoln Tunnel, the bus pulled over to the side of the road. The driver announced that another bus would arrive shortly to take us the final five minutes into the city - no explanation given. Of course, bus after empty bus sped by, taunting the dozen or so of us trapped on the shoulder. After about 40 minutes (it was now well after midnight), we finally see the flashing red lights of some cop cars and an ambulance. Apparently, the bus driver was sick. Weird, huh? So after the medics checked out the driver and hauled him out to the ambulance, a local NJ Transit bus finally pulled over to pick us up. Why didn’t any of the earlier buses stop to pick us up? Was it some kind of X-files safety thing where they wanted to contain us all in case the bus driver was infected with some weird alien virus? Then last week on the cab ride back to my apartment, I was calmly watching the cab TV when I hear what sounded like a giant glass bowl smashing against the side of the cab. We stop in the middle of 42nd Street, the driver gets out and then wanders up the street. WTF? I look back to see him in a heated argument with some dude in a business suit. Not wanting to get involved in any kind of crazy confrontation and before any police arrive, I jump out of the cab, hand the driver five bucks and hail the next cab. I don’t know what happened and I have no desire to find out. I just wanted to get the hell home and to bed.

So I’m off again for another exciting NJ weekend tonight. The ‘rents are up from Richmond, so at least I’m guaranteed a couple of good meals. Hopefully, my Sunday night journey back to the city will be marked by blissful boredom.

Speed the Plow (2/27) and August: Osage County (2/29)

Since it’s been over a week since I’ve seen these shows, I guess I’ll just jot down my overall impressions. As far as the two plays, August: OC left the most lasting impression. Who’d have guessed a one set, family drama could actually sustain an audience’s interest for over three hours? I mean, I’m wary of anything that boasts two intermissions. That’s just asking for bad ticket sales. But the audience seemed genuinely riveted. Yeah, many of the family secrets revealed over the course of the evening do border on soap opera territory. But the strength of the performances coupled with the playwright’s gift to humanize even the most detestable characters, keeps the evening from slipping into parody. Honestly, who can’t relate to family dysfunction - can I get an “Amen”? I even found myself thinking that my family’s past get-togethers could rival just about anything happening on that stage. Okay, so maybe the symbolism of the Indian is a little heavy-handed, but it’s set in Oklahoma, so what the hell. It’s also a pleasure to continually see John Collum gracing New York stages, but what in God’s name does he do between his first act appearance and the curtain call three hours later? He must get in a lot of reading. Regardless, it’s a completely engrossing and entertaining evening. I mean, I yawned through parts of Shrek but never got bored during August - although I guess that may be more a reflection of the (mediocre) quality of Shrek than the quality of August.

The week before August, Trish and I got to check out William H. Macy’s performance in Speed the Plow. This star-infused three hander is an interesting slip of a play that seems more of an overblown character study than anything else. But Macy and Raul Esparza tear it up in some flashy West Coast stereotypes. Elizabeth Moss is sufficient, but in my opinion, isn’t traditionally beautiful enough for the role. She gives a good performance, but frankly (spoiler) I’m not sure guys would be placing bets with each other to fuck her. She also has the unfortunate task of trying to compete with stage all-stars Macy and Esparza. And though she acquits herself admirably, the superior stage veterans bookending her performance only magnify her “average”-ness. But since it’s her Broadway debut, I guess I can give her some leeway. The real treat was watching the Macy-Esparza duo spitting through the rapid-fire Mamet dialogue. God only knows how Madonna was able to even memorize all the dialogue, let alone speak it in any natural manner when she created the role for Broadway in the early 90’s. I won’t even speculate on the rumors swirling around Jeremy Piven’s mercury-induced exit from the production. All I can say is that he must have been shoveling in shitloads of sushi everyday.