Spring and Swine

Ah! Flip-flops and shorts, buds on the trees and the first surgical mask sighting of the season. Spring is here! On my way to work this morning, a lady dashed off the subway looking like she was prepped for an appendectomy on the platform. Is this all really necessary? I mean, aren’t flu germs microscopic anyway? What’s a flimsy piece of paper over your face gonna’ protect you from when your packed into a subway car like a Cuban life raft and God-knows-what is smeared all over the poles and seats. It’s really surprising there’s no subway flu strain. I’ll bet you a case of Purell that the pen where swine flu originated is probably cleaner than any seat on the N train. Then again, as New Yorkers we’ve probably developed subway immunity anyway. City heat? Well, that’s a different story. After 15 years living in the city, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the oppressive heat of reflected asphalt and stale, hot city air. Don’t get me wrong, I was grateful for the warm weather this weekend, but 90 degrees in April? Swine flu, oppressive spring heat, no sign of Phantom ever closing - can the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse be far behind?

Wow, I’m certainly feisty today, aren’t I? Well, I must be going through show withdrawal. I mean, I haven’t been in a theatre in almost one week! And that’s after a marathon three Broadway shows in three consecutive nights last week (Blithe Spirit Tuesday, 9 to 5 Wednesday, Waiting for Godot Thursday). By Friday, I’ll have spent a record six nights in a row at home. Can a move to the suburbs be far behind? I admit it has been nice going home each night this week and just undress and lounge in my underwear watching TV and eating leftover Easter candy (resist your gag reflex bitches, it even disgusts me a little). I never imagined that a nine-to-five job would elicit such laziness out of me. When I was a poor, starving actor, I’d manage to cram in three auditions, the gym, dinner, drinks and a movie on a daily basis. Now I get home and literally sit on my ass until bedtime . Maybe I’ll force myself to squeeze into my old gym shorts and sneakers and try to remember what it was like to sweat. Stay tuned for updates!

9 to 5 (2/22)

Let me start by saying that I love me some Dolly. But 9 to 5: The Musical last night was a hot mess; a thoroughly entertaining and undeniably fun hot mess, but a hot mess nonetheless. It all started with a bang at around 8:10 when we heard the following announcement, “Ladies and Gentleman, Miss Dolly Parton.” The crowd just about rose to its feet and peed with joy in unison. Dolly stepped into the auditorium from a side door joking that the producers wouldn’t let her on stage for fear she’d never leave. Apparently she’s been in NYC for the last few weeks working on the show but tonight was the first time the producers had allowed her to address the audience in person. In her cute drawl she perkily read from the back of her hand, “Happy Administrative Professionals’ Day, or as they used to say in the old day’s, ‘Happy Secretary’s Day’.” No doubt her greeting was addressed specifically to me, having been lavished with praise and gift cards earlier that day at my office job.

Anyway, some of my fave performers and artistic folk are doing some questionable work here. Andy Blankenbuehler, whose choreography I loved for In the Heights, has crammed every moment with busy, unnecessary movement. It’s all strangely jerky and period inappropriate (was hip-hop around in the 70’s?) and makes the stage look messy and unfocused, especially on the horrendously ugly and overdesigned set. Are all those moving columns really necessary? Is there a point to all the tacky projections of moving arrows and clocks? The “less is more” philosophy would have gone a long way here. The only time the projections actually worked in heightening the stage business was during the pot-induced fantasy sequences - natch. Otherwise, they just seemed fussy and distracting. Perhaps the designer is purposely trying to distract us from the incredibly un-theatrical, and at times (sorry, Dolly) boring, score? Granted, the title song is ridiculously catchy and fun, but it’s also probably the strongest in the show and sets us up for high expectations. Unfortunately, the rest of the score doesn’t quite live up.

The cast is working really, really hard trying to sell a score full of musical duds. Lyrics (sorry again, Dolly) are mostly banal and general. The first act finale is almost laughable. For what seems like twenty versus, the gals sing about how after they get rid of their boss they’ll “shine like the sun.” Really?!? Sadly, most every song languishes on this level of sophistication except for maybe "Backwoods Barbie" and "Let Love Grow". Happily, these two songs are more what I expect from Dolly - straight-forward, no-nonsense and honest. It makes me wonder if maybe in an attempt to cash in, the producers rushed the show too quickly to stage, forcing Dolly to churn out less than optimum songs in order to “fill out” the score. I’ll give Dolly the benefit of the doubt here.

Allison Janney is da’ bomb, but she can just barely hold a tune. Her vocals didn’t bother me as much as they did Trish, but it’s almost cruel having her sing side-by-side with power divas Stephanie J. Block and Megan Hilty. Marc Kudisch was…well… Marc Kudisch. We’ve seen him play this character many times before and he does it extremely well. I’d just like to see him do something different or seen a new face tackle the role. Block and Hilty are both solid singing actresses, although I can’t tell if Hilty is purposely imitating Dolly, or if that’s just how it’s coming off. She’s definitely got some cutlets stuffed under her blouse, unless she’s recently gotten some major plastic surgery.

From all that, you may get the impression that I hated the show. But in actuality I quite enjoyed myself. The book scenes were terrific - fast-paced and funny. Sadly, the score wasn’t. The show literally screeched to a dead halt anytime someone started singing. I’m a total musical queen, but I couldn’t wait for the songs to be over so that we could get to the book scenes. Not exactly what you look for in a musical. But the audience loved it. Especially the militant lesbian sitting next to Trish who screamed (literally), “Get him!” at the point where the Dolly character went after her boss in one scene. And it was also nice to see such a varied audience in a Broadway theatre. I guess everyone enjoys big tits and big hair.

Is there a doctor in the house?

OK, I don’t want to make light of someone’s misfortune, but it was sort of amusing when ten minutes into the second act of Blithe Spirit last night someone in the audience actually blurted out those words. I mean, I sincerely hope the person is well, but this was a first for me in a Broadway theatre. It took the actors a few moments to realize that the commotion in the audience wasn’t just a wayward text-er or cell phone, but someone from the audience actually asking for medical attention. What made it even more surreal was hearing Jayne Atkinson proceed to ask the audience the same question from stage. It was like being in some bizarre hidden camera show. And then we all had to sit in uncomfortable silence as we listened to the afflicted audience member’s companion make the 911 call, “The Shubert theatre. No, Shubert. Shu - bert.” Awkward.

Anyway, how can you not love Angela Lansbury? Watching her dance around the stage like your drunk old aunt at a gypsy wedding reception is worth the ticket price. The play itself seems almost quaint compared to the full on raunchiness we’re now accustomed to on TV and movies. But it’s refreshing (or maybe surprising?) to realize that at one time adult comedies were written without overt sexual references, nudity or profanity.

Rupert Everett and Atkinson make an unlikely couple with his pulled back face - hardly noticeable from the balcony - and her matronly demeanor. But they do a wonderful job of getting on each others nerves. I’m still undecided on Ebersole’s performance, mainly because our viewing angle (from the upper reaches of the Shubert balcony - love you Chris, but damn, those seats were up there) made it often difficult to see facial expression. She did some odd vocal inflections, but I feel like they may have worked had we been able to see them in tandem with her physical characterization. I think the amplification up in the nosebleeds was a bit mushy as well, leading to some minor intelligibility issues. Susan Louise O'Connor made the most of her small role and contributed some great physical bits.

Trish, Chris and I topped off the evening with my fave after dinner snack, pickled beats at Junior’s. Yum. But I have say, those Junior’s waiters are freaking me out. They’re just a little too friendly. Makes you wonder what nastiness their slipping into your cheesecake without you knowing. Oh, and over a rather ordinary slice of Junior’s red velvet cheesecake I discovered that Chris Grimm was born the same year I saw my first Broadway show, Les Miserables, 1988. Holy botox! So here’s a big f*ck you to Chris - I’m an old fart who could have been your teenage dad.

Holy understudies!

Trish and I were slightly shocked walking into the Palace Theatre last night to see the cast board list BOTH Tony AND Maria out of that evening’s performance. Luckily, both standbys were on rather than understudies, so at least the rest of the cast was intact. I’m sure Trish would have stormed the box office demanding a refund had her Equity boyfriend, Curtis Holbrook, been out as well. We couldn’t help but laugh, considering I purchased the tickets on a whim four hours before the performance. Supposedly sold out for the rest of the week, I checked online to see if there were any newly released tickets. Sure enough, two center, first row, front mezzanine seats materialized. Crediting good birthday karma (Happy 39th Birthday to me!), I snatched them up certain this was God’s personal gift to me. I guess this was his way of telling me that nothing good in life comes that easy.

I don’t want to seem ungrateful to those hard-working actors, but how can you not be slightly disappointed when not just one, but both lead actors are out of a show? And the lead couple, no less? I do give props to both Matthew Hydzik (on for Matt Cavanaugh’s Tony) and Haley Carlucci (on for Josefina Scaglione’s Maria) who were solid and for the most part confident in the roles. Both have strong acting chops and were vocally adequate, but were definitely missing some much needed chemistry. I can’t really blame them. How can you be “in the moment” when you’re probably thinking, “Is my next quick change on stage left or stage right?” There were a couple of “deer-in-headlight” moments - notably in the park-and-bark sections of "Tonight" and "One Hand, One Heart" - but these seemed to be a directorial choice. And I’m sure he was directed this way, but Hydzik seemed way too wide-eyed and “clean” to pass for a former rough-and-tumble gang member. I mean, my mom could probably beat the sh*t out of Tony as played last night by Hydzik. And I know it was lifted from the movie, but would a gang member, even a very stylish one, be caught wandering the barrio in a shiny purple suit? I mean, I own a red velvet sport jacket that’s less gay than that purple suit…which leads to may next minor quibble.

I know the thrilling Jerome Robbins choreography demands dancers of impeccable technique and virtuosity, but the buffed out Chelsea-boy type doesn’t necessarily convey rough and world weary. It wasn’t that these boys seemed necessarily pretty or clean cut, but as Trish pointed out, they seemed “soft” - like an all Upper East Side prep school gang - not very intimidating. I’d have to note Curtis Holbrook as an exception. Though it’s written into his character, Holbrook was most successful in portraying the pent up rage that could make an audience believe he’d resort to murder.

All the controversy of the added Spanish text and the translation of some of the song lyrics is much ado about nothing. Though at times the revisions did heighten the audience’s understanding of the cultural barriers intrinsic to the plot, they didn’t really prove revelatory in any way. They were harmless, but in the end, un-needed and maybe a bit gimmicky. As a regular opera attendee, I don’t agree that language necessarily adds cultural resonance to a work. If an opera composer was Italian, his opera was in Italian regardless of where it takes place or the ethnicity of the characters. I guess what I’m really saying is, “If it ain’t broke, don't fix it.”

Karen Olivo, having to distinguish herself from two iconic portrayals (by Chita and Rita), creates a more earthy and sexual Anita than her predecessors. People were complaining that her dancing was “lacking.” But as a full package, I think she’s pretty amazing. She’s so strong (and tall) that I was convinced she could easily whoop some of those pansy-ass Jets in the closing rape scene. And relevant to nothing, she's part Asian! (Puerto Rican, Dominican and Chinese - you better work, sister!)

But in the end, the incredible Bernstein score and the Robbins choreography elevated the show above all of my complaints. Is there any show written or produced in the last ten years that even comes close to it in quality and scope? I don’t think so. I guess with the continued commercialization of Broadway, the hope of seeing another West Side Story in our time seems kinda’ doubtful, but I’m still hoping.

On a side note - plenty of "celeb" sightings this evening: Camryn Mannheim eating dinner two tables down from us at the Edison, Cody Green walking down Broadway next to Trish and Aaron Tveit riding the N train after the show with us.

Who we didn't see last night in West Side Story, Josefina Scaglione and Matt Cavanaugh

The New Yorkiest

For those of you who’ve balked at my New Yorker status because I live in Astoria - never mind the fact that I lived all over the isle of Manhattan from 1993-2000 - Time Out New York has named our block (well, just around the block) one of the eight “New Yorkiest blocks" in NYC. In your face! Ha! Sorry, I got a little carried away there. Anyway, I’m not surprised that 6 of the 8 blocks chosen are in the boroughs, considering midtown Manhattan is slowly becoming one huge strip mall. I mean, even Madison Avenue in the Fifties is anchored by big-box retailers like Bad Bath and Beyond, the Container Store, the Gap and Banana Republic. And with the economy tanking, is a Fifth Avenue Walmart out of the realm of possibility? I shudder at the thought.

I’m not anti-franchise. Believe me, Target and even (dare I say it) a trip to Red Lobster can be quite entertaining in moderation (those biscuits, yum). But if we’re just going to end up like a huge suburban mall I might as well put my $1500/month rent towards a house in Jersey. I mean no disrespect to my Jersey brethren, but the point of putting up with the dirt, noise and shoebox-sized living quarters of Manhattan is the fact that outside your door is a plethora of unique and individual dining and shopping experiences you can’t find anywhere else in the world. Wow, that sounded so cheesy. But it’s true.

Really, how many places are left in this country where the local fish market, butcher, florist, fruit and vegetable market and bakery are all within a block? Here’s hoping that New York’s identity crisis will blow over soon and we’ll soon get our character back. Until then, I’m happy in Queens.

One of the many 24-hour fruit and veggie stands on our street

The New Yorkiest block in the city

Do, Re, Mi and so on...

This is just a fun and silly bit of hmmm...what would you call it? - Performance art, I guess? As dancer's take over a train station in Antwerp. According to one of the comments on Youtube, it was an advertisement for a reality show to choose the next Maria in an upcoming production of The Sound of Music in Belgium. I have to say, this is way more entertaining than the entire season of "Grease! - You're the One That I Want" from a couple seasons back.

My favorite spot is around 2:50 when the entire crowd breaks into the Macarena! Ha - it's like the ultimate bad-in-a-good-way wedding reception. If only people did just break out into song and dance spontaneously, the world would be a happier place.

Happiness 4/5

Well, between Happiness and Next To Normal, I can safely say that just because something moves you to tears doesn’t mean that it’s good. I wouldn’t go so far as to say Happiness is bad (although the commercial reviews would suggest otherwise), it’s just not great. I can’t really explain the shows shortcomings without exposing its plot, so if you don’t want to know the major plot twist, best to stop reading now.

A group of people find themselves trapped in a subway car and must choose the perfect moment from their lives. Upon choosing, they are released from the train car and live in that moment for perpetuity. Yes, the writers make use of some pretty clichéd scenarios to manipulate you emotionally - first baseball game with your dad, waiting at the hospital bed of your dying lover, pledge of love to a doomed soldier - but they do the job. The problem is that about half of the passengers’ stories are just not as well written / musically interesting as the other half. So after about the fifth story, I was left wondering, “I get it - live life to the fullest, don’t take your time on earth for granted, stop and smell the roses - yadda, yadda, yadda...but so what?” It was like reading a book of Stephen King’s short stories; the first couple are interesting, but then you get kind of bored and have to put it down. Same thing here, but I couldn’t leave since the show is nearly two hours with no intermission.

The huge cast of prominent musical theatre vets (Hunter Foster, Sebastian Arcelus, Joanna Gleason) do wonderful work elevating the material above clichéd treacle, but in the end I was left wondering if there was a point to this meta-physical exercise. Perhaps it would have been more interesting to examine the idea of re-living the same event forever. Would you get bored? What if you chose the wrong moment? What if your memory of that moment was different from what actually happened? And although the subway conductor’s situation was summed up in a song, it might have been interesting to explore how he copes with his job. How can he perpetually watch others discover their perfect moment when he’s stuck in a subway car forever? To me, exploring these questions would have added some needed depth to the Lifetime “movie-of-the-week” feeling of the whole project. Granted, sometimes I am in the mood for a Lifetime Channel tearjerker, but I was hoping for something more considering the writing team’s previous Broadway outing brought us the emotionally complex Grey Gardens.

The set, an ever revolving subway car - the passengers should have known something was up just by the sparkling, pristine car - and ever changing backdrops were effectively used to create several different locations and eras. Choreographer/director, Susan Stroman, uses the small space effectively and efficiently given the large cast size. For $21 TDF tickets, it was well worth seeing this top notch cast. And truly not a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon. It just seemed like a wasted opportunity to explore some interesting notions of what constitutes happiness and our ideas of the afterlife.

Next To Normal 4/2

I just reread my review of the off-Broadway production from last year at Second Stage. I can happily report that some of the problems I witnessed then have been fixed - notably the weird “rock concert” that ended act one (“Feeling Electric” has been completely excised from this version). But alas, the show remains a valiant, but flawed attempt. And though the show is often quite moving, at times the pace seem a bit ponderous. The first act starts off promisingly enough, but the last half hour of the act could easily be cut by 15-20 minutes. Granted, you’d lose some interesting musical material, but not much happens. She’s crazy, we get it, move on.

Likewise, everything that happens in the second act could easily be condensed into a tight 45 minutes without losing its emotional impact. There are a string of consecutively played, emotionally charged scenes. The audience literally sniffles and cries through the act. I think “intense” might even be an understatement. Sure, there’s some great writing here, but every scene seems just a verse too long. It’s not that I have a short attention span (I never got bored through three hours of August: Osage County and I can sit through hours of opera) but I don’t think the material, as written, is strong enough to sustain the drama. The score is harmonically, rhythmically and lyrically interesting, but missing soaring, heart-breaking melodies (which is not the same as high and loud, which this score has plenty of) that keep you invested after you’ve grown immune to the indie rock rhythms. There are no doubt catchy tunes and some interesting pop hooks, but the score lacks a true melodic touchdown - there’s no “Not A Day Goes By” or “If I Loved You” or even, I can’t believe I’m writing this, a “Memory.” Sure, “I Miss the Mountains” is an incredible musical monologue, but it’s strength is in it’s lyric more than in it’s melodic interest.

Perhaps the physical design may be to blame for many of the productions shortcomings. The direction is fluid and interesting, but the set design, which granted is quite striking, forces everything to happen in a four foot strip at the front of the stage. Even the many levels can’t make up for the “flatness” of the playing space. It’s used well, but soon all the staging becomes monotonous due to the stage constraints coupled with the “sameness” of the score.

Performances across the board were exceptional, great nuanced acting coupled with strong voices. J. Robert Spencer does an admirable job as the father, but I miss Brian D’Arcy James’ singing voice. Spencer’s is beautiful, but musical theatre generic. Alice Ripley plays crazy extremely well, but I still hear some definite vocal issues that were more evident off-Broadway. When she’s on, she’s on, and her power belt is thrilling. But she often sings flat. It wasn’t too bothersome, but mark my words, in five or ten years if she doesn’t pay attention to it now, she’s gonna’ have a chronic flat belt. Maybe she couldn’t hear the band? Before you all go ballistic and say everyone sings flat occasionally, similar belters - Julia Murney, Bernadette Peters, Audra MacDonald, Marin Mazzie, Emily Skinner - do not have this problem. Sure, everyone has a clunker here and there, but Ripley’s happens at the same spots - ends of phrases and on the peak of musically arched phrases - that’s a technique issue and not just coincidence. But enough of the vocal pedagogy class. Overall, I think this is a solid, though not entirely successful attempt from a promising writing team.