"...opera is just like musical theatre except with no consonants."

       -Varla Jean Merman, drag queen

The new season is almost here!!!

I just spent hundreds of dollars on theatre tickets. You know what that means, kiddies. Fall, my favorite season in NYC, is just around the corner. The theatre and opera are gearing up, Chuck and Fringe are back, the weather is awesome and the underground subway stations no longer smell of pee.

My first must-see of the season isn’t until December, but it’s already the hottest ticket in town. It’s Tony Kushner’s first New York revival of his epic two-part play, Angels in America. Both parts are playing in rep at the tiny Signature theatre (less than 200 seats) and Zachary Quinto (Heroes’ evil Sylar and new Star Trek’s sexy Spock) will be spitting distance from me - so exciting. I literally spent half an hour online trying to get on their website on the first day of ticket sales. I guess the rest of New York had the same idea since the site kept crashing from the web traffic. Thankfully, an extension had been added, because the first three months of the run had already sold out by the time I was able to get through.

I also booked my tickets for the marathon performance of The Gatz at the Public, yet another two-part, seven hour play. What an odd trend. Anyway, the idea intrigued me - a group of people at an office start to read the text of "The Great Gatsby" out loud in real time. I know, it sounds like S&M for English teachers, but it got incredible out of town reviews so I’m going to take my chances.

I also jumped on a recent discount code for The Addams Family. I know, I know - but I love a good train wreck, especially when two bona fide Broadway stars headline. Since I didn’t pay full price, I thought, what the hell.

A few blocks uptown at the Met, I’m set to see Il Trovatore (which I’ve never seen live) with the dreamy cast of Racette, Radvanovsky, Zajick, Alvarez and Hvorostovsky. And for you non-opera fans, that would be akin to seeing Benanti, Baldwin, LuPone, Crawford and Hearn in…well…I guess that would never happen. But you get the idea. I’ll then be back two days later for the Met’s ridiculously huge production of La Boheme for a glimpse of new tenor hottie, Vittoria Grigolo. Between him and James Valenti (above) - yowzah - so much for the fat opera singer stereotype! And I almost forgot about Das Rheingold next Spring. It’s the first of the four Wagner Ring operas in a new production that makes even the most complicated Broadway set look like legos (check out the preview below). The stage had to be reinforced with three 65-foot girders to support the weight of the 45-ton set. It’s opening the Met’s season, but all the fall performances are sold out, so I have to settle for Mach of next year. Sigh.

Other upcoming shows on my radar: Evita (w/ Ricky Martin’s Che), Anything Goes (w/ Sutton Foster’s Reno), A Life in the Theatre (w/ Patrick Stewart and T.R. Knight), Driving Miss Daisy (w/ James Earl Jones and Vanessa Redgrave), Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (w/ LuPone, Stokes Mitchell & Laura Benanti), Elf, How to Succeed ... (w/ Daniel Radcliff) & War Horse (from London’s National Theatre). So many stars - so little time and money!

This week the chat rooms are buzzing with South Pacific talk. Who knew a PBS airing would create so much net discussion. I caught Paulo and Kelli early in the run, so it was a pleasure seeing them again with the aid of the camera close-up. Beside the obvious larger girth around Paulo’s middle (they couldn’t get him a new white dinner jacket that closed comfortably for National TV?!), both were as wonderful as I had remembered. My random thoughts on the broadcast:

• Ables Sayre certainly acts the role of Bloody Mary marvelously, but I still miss the more robust, creamy sound of a legit singer.
• The Seabees dancing still strikes me - for lack of a better word - as sort of gay. And some of them are pushing the butch act a bit too hard.
• Happy to see they didn’t edit out the naked ass scene.
• Andrew Samonsky’s Lt. Cable was painful to watch. His strange audible breathing, odd line readings and forced John Whayne-ish physicality was just plain weird. And all the hard “r” sounds in his singing negated his obviously pretty singing voice. I missed Morrison, even though his singing wasn’t so hot either.

more Night Music

Tuesday, August 17
8:00pm performance

This is the season of the replacement. After checking out the new dysfunctional family over at Next to Normal, I headed back to the Walter Kerr to catch the new Amrfeldts.

Roma Torre practically jizzed on my TV screen over the replacement cast of the current Broadway revival of A Little Night Music, so how could I not pay the show a second visit? Granted, the replacements happen to be Bernadette Peters and Elaine Stritch, considered by New Yorkers and theatre queens alike to be Broadway royalty. I had my misgivings going in. I mean, I loves me some Bernie, but she was practically unwatchable when I saw her last in the Broadway revival of Annie Get your Gun, mugging and winking at the audience as an annoying caricature of herself. And Stritch? Well, she’s a comedic genius, but she’s salt of the earth and all brass and growl, the exact opposite of the aristocratic Madame Armfeldt. Happily, my worry was all for naught.

Since Chris hadn’t seen the show yet, Trish and I invited him to join us (and be our bitch to stand on the TKTS line). Luckily, he woke up just in time from his first act nap to catch Bernadette’s first entrance. (Note to self: do not allow Chris wine before a show). Anyway, playing against (my) expectation, BP gave a subtle, nuanced performance. Her Desiree is a still gorgeous actress past her professional prime. Weary of her fast and frivolous lifestyle, she seeks emotional stability with a good man (who doesn’t?). Her “Send in the Clowns” is heartbreaking. When Fredrik walks out on Desiree, we see this proud woman desperately try to hold it together. Her laughter through tears reminded me why the song is a classic, despite its millions (I love hyperbole) of cheesy remakes.

Stritch, on the other hand, is well, Stritch. Not that that’s a bad thing exactly. She manages to milk laughs from even the most mundane of lines through sheer force of personality. Sure, her Madame Armfeldt lacks the grace and carriage you’d expect from an aristocrat who’s seduced Kings and Emperors, but Stritch knows how to enthrall an audience. Who else could go up on their lines so frequently, yet manage to elicit even greater respect and love from an audience?

The rest of the cast seems to have mellowed and adjusted their performances (for the better) to jibe with BP’s more subtle approach. Chris had some musical gripes with all the back-phrasing going on in the duets “Every Day a Little Death” and “It Would Have Been Wonderful”. I’d have to agree, given that some lines were back-phrased so much that lines composed to be sung in the clear now overlap to render lyrics unintelligible. I also think cutting the last key change in “A Weekend in the Country” is a mistake. You miss the excitement that last “lift” adds to the finale.

I also have to give a shout out to Bradley Dean (Frid) who, though not really a friend, grew up near me in Pennsylvania and we sung together through high school in District, Regional and All-State Choirs. And to Kevin Vortmann, a fellow caroler for the past several seasons with DB Productions.

Next to Normal or Why are those big scary faces staring at me?

Saturday, August 14
8:00pm performance

Want to know the first thing that ran through my head when I heard Marin Mazzie was going to replace Alice Ripley in N2N - “That’s a weird choice.” Don’t get me wrong, M&M has the voice and acting chops, but she’s always seemed too - what’s the word…regal, maybe? - to play a pill-popping, bi-polar mess. So, of course, I just had to go see for myself. Inquiring minds (read: theatre queens) want to know!

Well, Mazzie is a hot mess (in a good way)! Freed from the distraction of Ripley’s under-pitched singing, I was actually able to focus better on the story, music and performances. While Ripley’s Diana was flat out bonkers, Mazzie’s Diana is in constant struggle to appear under control. The latter choice makes for far better dramatic tension since you always feel an underlying emotional conflict. The moments her disease does overwhelm her, Mazzie’s “breakdowns” seem much more powerful. On the other hand, Ripley is like that crazy uncle that comes to all the family reunions that you’ve just gotten used to and learned to ignore. I’ll concede there’s a certain excitement to Ripley’s balls-to-the-wall performance, but I just couldn’t get passed the singing. I’m not a vocal snob, either. I mean, Lansbury’s Lovett is far from beautiful singing, but she sings on pitch. When Ripley’s on, she can’t be touched. But that inconsistency kills it for me.

The rest of the new family is solid. The emotional connection between Jason Danieley’s Dan and Mazzie is understandable, given they’re real life husband and wife. But I’m starting to get annoyed by the constant straight-tone-into-vibrato that he (and seemingly every Broadway performer) uses on any held note. It’s interesting as a vocal color, but it’s just becoming predictable and meaningless.

Trish pointed out that the hotness factor of Kyle Dean Massey makes some of the mother-son moments seem a bit incest-icky. But he's solid, if not possessing the charm and likeability factor of original Gabe, Aaron Tveit. Could Massey be too good looking to the point of distraction (I can't believe I just wrote that)? And I had a little internal chuckle when it’s revealed that Gabe’s supposed to be almost eighteen. Yup, and I’m almost twenty-five. Meghann Fahy’s a gorgeous Natalie, who should be walking the catwalks of Milan rather than sulking in a practice room. Run away, Natalie, run away and make your fortune away from crazy-mom! Interestingly, I didn't have the same hotness problem with her, since there was an obvious attempt to "plain her down."

I have to admit, on second viewing I enjoyed the show much more. The problems I had with the score and staging initially, didn’t bother me this time around. Oh well, just goes to show, sometimes you just need some time to warm up to a show. Sadly, the mezzanine was nearly empty and we easily moved to much better seats at intermission. I don’t know if they can stay open much longer with half empty houses.

But those huge poster-sized caricatures still scare the hell out of me.

Fat

With camp finally over and Trish back from a trip to visit family in PA, we are finally able to spend our first real summer weekend in New York. I can’t even believe Labor Day is just three weeks away. When did summer vacation turn into “back-to-school”? Sucks to be a teenager I guess.

Anyway, I’ve decided it’s time to go back to the gym since every piece of clothing I tried on from last summer seems just a size too small. It’s so depressing. I’m not so much concerned about getting fat as much as seeing the money I shell out monthly for a gym membership go to waste. The moment I tear up that card is the moment I have embraced the idea of being a fat, middle-aged man…in NYC. Sure, a fat, middle-aged man in Iowa, no big deal, but this is the land of beautiful people and Chelsea boys! Oh well, I shall try to commit to some regular workouts, if not to regain that six-pack, at least to reduce the enormity of my spreading muffin top.

After an all too brief workout, a sad 30 minutes on the elliptical after which my legs were screaming to be back on the ottoman cradling a bowl of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia, I decided it best to ease back into my new healthy lifestyle. I mean, it’s Saturday afternoon. Who starts a life changing diet and exercise regime on a Saturday afternoon? I shall do what any normal person would do, put it off until Monday. Until then, Trish and I are off to catch the new cast of Next to Normal. Review to follow shortly…

Has it really been...

a month since my last blog entry? Well, life has been extremely busy in Pineda-ville, so I’m just finally catching up. My apartment has been sorely neglected and I’m just starting to wipe away the dust and cobwebs from bookshelves and removing the green, fuzzy stuff from the back of the fridge. But I’ll be furiously writing and updating in the next week or so, so keep checking in. I’ll add entries in calendar order - “as they happened” - just for the sake of continuity.

Until next summer...

As usual, the craziness that is Pineda Summer Conservatory overwhelmed all else this July, thus, the silence on my blog. Fear not, sweet ones, I have returned with highlights of this summer’s sweatfest at the CDC theater. There’s definitely some crazy ozone depletion going on since temperatures in the non-air conditioned theater never dipped below a chilly 80 degrees. Choreographer and dance instructor Señor Chris - returning as a permanent member of the Pineda staff - rarely changed t-shirts less than twice a day. Stop with the aerosol cans already, people!

The newly vamped Cabaret Night aka Walking On Sunshine went off splendidly. Our own Frankie and Annette, Chris (choreographer/co-director) and Trish (musical director/co-director), spun a modern day Beach Blanket Bingo theme around the talents of our high school campers. This year we upped (read: added) production values with full set, props and even - gasp! - costume changes.

No doubt I’d have enjoyed this year’s Pineda Idol had I not been frantically painting a trolley car behind the second black traveler while our contestants warbled away. I did, however, get to hear all the wonderful talent as well as the wise and sometimes odd comments of judges Señor Chris, Jaygee (my lovely Kim from Seaside’s Miss Saigon) and Lori (last summer’s zany middle school dance instructor visiting from her new home, Italy!). I do hope Jaygee got her shoes back after excitedly hurling them at our wide-eyed contestants. And I hope they were flats, as a spiked-heel to the forehead is not a sexy look. I know that from experience. Don’t ask.

Starlight Theatre’s (our elementary school program) production of Disney’s Aladdin upped the “awww” factor with the young’ens strutting their stuff Arabian style. How could one not get teary-eyed watching two ten-year-olds awkwardly fall in love to the strains of “A Whole New World”? Of course, that’s only when the young Aladdin manages to stay awake during his princess’s verse. I kid you not. I know, they’re young and it’s really hot in that theatre, but it’s still amusing.

Our middle-schoolers got all hormonal with this year’s production of 13. Full of backstabbing, sexual politics, boy-on-boy kissing, drinking, bar mitzvahs and cheerleading (sounds like my trip to Fire Island last weekend), the Pinedas once again proved they are moral pillars of the community. Seriously, though, if this is an accurate depiction of the lives of today’s 13 year olds, what they hell are they gonna’ be up to when they’re 18?

Finally, we ended the summer with a gorgeous - if I do say so myself - production of Meet Me in St. Louis which I choreographed with Señor Chris' assistance. It's amazing the quality of work you can produce under panic conditions.  All in all, the trolley trauma proved worth the hassle. The act one closing tableau will surely grace our literature for years to come. And I only had to lose my sh*t once during tech week. Honestly, is it that difficult to learn ones lines after having ones script for six weeks? Back in Colonial times when I was doing summer stock with a young John Wilkes Booth, we’d have cranked out five fully staged productions in that same time frame. So much for work ethic. Oh well, according to 13, teens these days are too busy drinking and fornicating to concentrate on the trivialities of discipline and responsibility. Kidding. Not. Oh, and I also want to give a shout out to Michael Miguel and Deanna Killmer for helping our teens perfect their gorgeous period 'dos. Holla!

So there you have it. Six weeks, four full productions and four very exhausted Pinedas (plus Señor Chris, Chris Grimm and Mr. B - our newest staff addition at the piano). It’s going to take at least until next summer for us to recover, but those March auditions always seem to creep up on us so quickly. And no, we do not know what shows we are producing next year, so don’t ask until at least December.

American Idiot

August 4, 8:00 pm show

I finally got around to seeing American Idiot. First impressions - slick, stylish and loud. It still baffles me that Michael Mayer wasn’t nominated for best direction. The show is visually gorgeous and his staging is inventive and kinetic. But with all that cool movement and rock concert lighting, I still lost interest in the story about 15 minutes into the 90 minute one-act. I found myself analyzing the staging and choreography rather than becoming emotionally invested in any of the characters. It’s not that there wasn’t a clear plot, it’s just that the stories presented weren’t explored (expanded?) beyond the typical representations of post Gen X slackers. Twenty minutes in I was wondering what the point of it all was. Why didn’t these characters just go and get jobs and stop whining? Yes, the main character does get a job toward the end of the show. But, surprise, it’s as a stereotypical soul-less corporate pencil pusher. Like, there are no other interesting, cool jobs in the whole entire world. Hello, how about culinary school? Fashion? Web media? Tug boat captain? I mean, if you have to go trite and true, at least make it interesting.

You’ll get no gripes about the physical production from me. The ensemble cast looks like their having a f*cking great time. The staging is super tight and the cast is invested in the material like it’s Hamlet. The singing is miles above what we used to get in those early Rent years, when all the casting directors wanted “authentic” voices that couldn’t make it through an eight show week. But the great performances and dazzling physical production failed to move me. In the end, it still felt like a big ole music video translated to the stage.

Here’s a thought, maybe someone should encourage Green Day to compose a new show specifically for the stage rather than trying to force their catalogue into a narrative.