Bi-polar Show Disorder

Legally Blonde and Carousel - could there be two shows any more stylistically different?  Between ongoing Carousel rehearsals for CDC and Legally Blonde auditions for our summer program, I've been experiencing a serious case of choreographic whiplash.  In the span of just a few hours this weekend, I went from the booty-licious rump-shaking of hormonal co-eds, to the repressed sexuality of turn of the century New England lads and lasses.  And if you're not sure which description belongs to which show, then you probably ended up on my blog by some strange googling accident and should stop reading before you catch "the gay."

We've already sat through four audition days for Legally Blonde and the competition is getting crazy.  I haven't seen so much pink hoochiness-in-heels since my Senior Prom in '88.  I realize these young ladies are just trying to dress the part, but somehow they've gotten the idea that the character of Elle Woods is a slutty whore.  Yes, she's clearly not a virgin, but it's also made clear that she's monogamous as well as rich and trendy.  Many of the young ladies we've seen thus far seem to be auditioning for Pretty Woman - The Musical (Alan Menken or Stephen Flaherty, please jump on this idea).

Carousel is shaping up to be quite a wonderful show - if I ever finish choreographing it.  I'm actually on par with my usual mid-rehearsal slump.  I usually need the pressure of the clock to get my artistic juices jump started again.  Hopefully, we won't have a repeat of my infamous unfinished dance number from the last time I choreographed Carousel, where I completed the number at the half hour call prior to the opening night curtain.  Good times.

Carousel Hell

I’m finally getting back to the blog after several weeks burning in Carousel hell.  Oh, for an evening luxuriating in my musty apartment watching reality TV and munching on take-out Chinese instead of riding sardine-like on an NJ Transit bus to the wilds of suburban New Jersey. 

Happily, the second weekend of shows is behind me and the glorious closing night is just days away.  Huzzah!  I can already smell the bitter scent of embarrassment and regret hanging in the air in anticipation of the inevitable closing night, post cast party, drunken hook-ups.  Actors and alcohol - not pretty.

For a show that’s never had a rehearsal where the full cast has been available, it’s surprisingly good.  The audiences have been loving it and leave cheering and weeping (for all the right reasons).  But that’s mainly due to an all-around, incredibly talented group of leads and a few supremely dedicated featured ensemble members.

To say the rehearsal period for Carousel has been challenging is like saying neurosurgery is just like a really intense game of Operation.  We didn’t have a full cast run-through until just a few days before opening night and I don’t think I ever had a single Dream Ballet rehearsal with all the dancers.  It seemed on this cast’s list of priorities, Carousel ranked just below getting a full body wax and just above getting a colonoscopy.  So though the inhabitants of this turn-of-the-century New England town are smooth as an Abercrombie & Fitch cover model, they’re also remarkably under-rehearsed…and in desperate need of an enema.

There were also multiple family deaths within the cast (three the week before tech), three car accidents, high school and college spring breaks, vacations, cast members committing to multiple shows and the inevitable string of illnesses and (insert eye roll here) blatant lies. 

Even now, the theatre’s basement TB ward - aka the dressing rooms - is a near constant symphony of hacking, snorting and blown noses.  Between mono, sinus infections, strep throat, concussions (don’t ask) and allergies, it’s like a stage full of the walking dead.  I imagine the emergency room of a third world country having a similar aura of un-cleanliness and death. 

Don’t get me wrong, the whole cast isn’t this uncommitted, unmotivated or uncooperative - just most.  And for the record, I’ve been to every freaking one of our 30 odd rehearsals over the last three months.  I guess that makes me eligible for a “Most-wasted-time-reverse-commuting-to-rehearsal-for-a-cast-that-doesn’t-show-up” Tony nomination. 

But seriously, as much as I bitch and moan, I am proud of the finished product.  I guess I’m more bitter about the missed opportunity.  I hear the audience praising the quality of the show and performances, yet I can only imagine what could have transpired had the full cast committed to attending rehearsals. 

Sigh.

After every community theatre experience, I swear it will be my last.  Yet somehow, I always find myself back on that NJ Transit bus hoping this time will be different.  Oh well, I guess I’m just a masochist at heart.

And yes, I know I still owe a Leap of Faith review.  I actually disagree with most of the reviews.  It's not nearly as awful as the still-running Ghost or Mamma Mia!  I guess I'm growing more forgiving in my middle age.

Food, Fun & "Fancy Free" - Memorial Day Weekend Staycation

Staycation: Day 1 (Friday, 5/24)

What better way to inaugurate the official beginning of summer than with a Brazilian buffet and Audra McDonald (not together, of course - though the thought of it does get me all hot and bothered - not sure my heart could take the fanboy excitement combined with the cholesterol).  Trish has raved about Villa Brazil for months since her friend, Mara, introduced her to it's carnivorous pleasures.

The restaurant is in our Astoria nabe, but torrential rains (and my laziness) combined with unseasonably cool temperatures forced us to drive the 15 blocks rather than walk.  Mara enthusiastically agreed to join us even though she had just supped with Trish the day before.  Like us, she never passes up an opportunity to stuff her face with grilled meat.

We dropped our umbrellas in the foyer and faster than you can rip the tape off a Brazilian bikini wax, Mara had dragged me to the back of the restaurant where a buffet of South American delights awaited my watering mouth.  I have no idea what anything was (nothing is labeled), but it was all delicioso.  Especially the churrascaria-style meats (pictured above) that the grillman cuts and piles on your plate to order.  I can feel my arteries hardening at the sheer memory of those scrumptious, bloody cuts of sirloin, skirt and rib.

We followed up our animal flesh bacchanal with a trip to, where else, the Entenmann's Bakery Outlet.  It's only two blocks from the restaurant, so we trudged through the wind and rain for $1 pound cakes and english muffin packs.

Trish and I ended our evening in a post-feast haze, watching The Goddess, Audra McDonald, on Live from Lincoln Center.  We were privileged to be in the audience during the live taping, but I wanted to re-live that night from the comfort of my couch and with the added luxury of close-ups.

The gorgeous lobby of the Koch Theatre

Staycation: Day 2 (Saturday, 5/25)

With dreams of Audra wafting through my brain, I slept in until almost noon.  But once up, there was no time for more lounging.  I'd already wasted half of staycation day 2 in my jammies.  With just enough time for the three "sh"'s (shit, shower and shave), Trish and I were off to Lincoln Center for New York City Ballet's "Tribute to Broadway."

Today's matinee program included ballets based on or taken from classic Broadway shows.  First up - "Fancy Free," the Jerome Robbins ballet that inspired Leonard Bernstein to write On The Town.  Gotta' love a man in a tight white uniform, right?  And since Fleet Week was canceled this year, today's show was my only opportunity to openly ogle sailors in NYC this spring.

Second on the program was Christopher Wheeldon's "Carousel" (not to be confused with Agnes de Mille's "Dream Ballet" created for the original Broadway production).  The Wheeldon ballet is a loose interpretation of the musical's Billy/Julie relationship employing excerpts (including the thrilling "Carousel Waltz") from the iconic Rodgers & Hammerstein score.  This piece was new to me, and I appreciated the intricate pattern work and liberal use of - for lack of a better term - the "peel-off" effect.  I also made a mental note of how Wheeldon created a human carousel with his dancers and a few poles.  I'll definitely be stealing this moment...er, I mean recreating the moment "in homage"...the next time I'm called to choreograph the show.

Intermish photo shoot - aren't we lovely?  That's rhetorical.

Trish and I took advantage of the extended intermission to stretch and do some minor back re-alignment.  Our cheapo fourth ring seats, though front row, were way off to one side so we had to sit in an abnormally twisted position in order to see the stage without resorting to some serious Cirque du Soleil neck contorsion.

Act 2 was comprised entirely of Robbins' "West Side Story Suite."  It's sort of the Cliffs Notes version of West Side Story.  I'd never seen a performance of the suite, so I didn't realize the scenes (except "Something's Coming") were literally exerpted from the original staging - including the singing.

I know there are some kick-ass dancer/singers out there, but yikes.  The singing in "America" was barely at the level of a competent high school production.  To be fair, it is a ballet company, but I just couldn't get past Anita's thin, underpowered vocals.  Chita and Rita have forever spoiled me.  Thankfully, a professional singer (on mic stage right) sung the role of Tony during "Something's Coming."

Staring at emaciated dancers for two hours can really work up the appetite.  So after the final curtain call Trish and I headed to Aldea, a Michelin-starred, Iberian restaurant in Union Square.  Normally, this type of fancy-shmancy place is out of my price range.  But the advantage of a staycation is not having to shell out for flights or hotel rooms.  Instead, I was able to divert the extra cash to fund my favorite pastime - gorging until I throw up!

Aldea's small, sleekly furnished dining room has a clear view of the open kitchen in back. The modern design afforded us an unobstructed view of hunky celebrity chef, George Mendes. Talk about wetting - I mean whetting - your, um, appetite.  Yowza.

We decided to forgo restraint in favor of the gluttonous 9 (!) course chef's tasting menu.  You can check out all the gory details to the left (I have no idea what that brown smudge is, but I'd venture to guess it's probably my drool).  Jealous yet?  If not, let me list the "Petiscos" for you:

- Mojito sandwich with coconut water (like a little lemon-mint macaron)
- Potato chip w/ goat cheese and beet purée
- Raw oyster on half shell
- Asparagus soup w/ fresh peas (my favorite)
- Bacalao croquet
- Beet-soaked mini hard-boiled egg

...and the "Pre Dessert":
- Vanilla curd cream with mango granita and mint sorbet topped with vanilla wafer balls

...and yet a tenth, post-dessert bonus "Petit Four" course:
- Almond financier
- Lychee strawberry gelee pâtes de fruits
- Ginger clusters

Is it any wonder the meal took over two and a half hours to serve?

I was so mesmerized by the volume and variety of dishes and the gorgeous plating that I forgot to take pictures.  I finally regained my composure by the dessert course, at least enough to make Trish take this aerial shot (left) of the dessert plate.  Beautiful AND tasty - just like me.

In an effort to burn off a few calories, after dinner we decided to walk uptown to the next subway stop instead of jumping on at Union Square.  As we reached 23rd street we noticed some brightly colored tents and strung carnival lights.  With no other plans for the evening, we decided to investigate.  Nearing the site, the hypnotic smell of beer and fried food wafted passed us and we knew we were heading into dangerous territory - an outdoor food festival.

Just past Eataly, on a tiny triangle of asphalt just west of Madison Square Park, the festive tents of Madison Square Eats were buzzing with a mix of Flatiron yuppies and excited tourists.  I stood wide-eyed, mesmerized by the stands of artisanal street foods.  Though still obscenely full from our 9 course dinner, I was tempted to sneak down a side alley, purge and re-fill.  Instead, Trish and made a plan to return later in the week for dinner.

Not wanting to leave the festival empty handed, we stopped by Macaron Parlour's stand for a sample pack featuring some of their more unusual flavors (including salted caramel, smore and - wait for it - candied bacon with maple cream cheese frosting and - wait for it again - cheetos infused white chocolate ganache!).  We managed to make it all the way home to Astoria before ripping the box open and devouring all 12 of the the colorful, chewy bundles of cream-filled goodness.

Memorial Day Staycation continues...

Week from hell

This week's heinous work schedule has made me question whether the Pinedas are supremely ambitious artists or just plain stupid.  I'm actually leaning toward the latter, as would many who have worked with us in the past. Oh, the things you can learn from facebook.

Thankfully, NJ Transit now has a strict "no donkey" policy, making my long commute much more pleasurable.

Carousel rehearsals are in full swing with just a month until opening night.  We're also heavy into tech week of Little Women which opens at the performing arts high school this Thursday and we just finished callbacks and sent out notification letters for our summer production of Legally Blonde.  

 For any full-time theatre artist, working on three shows simultaneously would be considered an ambitious feat.  So what the hell am I doing committing to all these projects now that the theatre is just an elaborate "hobby" for me?

As a recently turned corporate zombie and slave to the 1%, I have sold my soul for the luxury of a regular paycheck and health insurance.  Can you blame me?  A decade's worth of dignity crushing auditions and the degradation of serving hors d'oeuvres to snooty NYC socialites between the occasional acting gig will do that to a person.  Ironically, now that I've "retired" from the business, I'm busier than ever with directing and choreographing gigs. 

Since last Friday, I've slept in my apartment twice.  Everyday this week I'll head to my 9-to-5 and then run to Port Authority for a Jersey-bound bus for a rehearsal, run-through or performance of some kind.  I'll then turn around for the lovely commute back to my wreck of an apartment in Queens - getting home after midnight - for a couple of hours of sleep and to throw my unopened mail onto an ever growing pile on the kitchen table.

Speaking of my kitchen table (left), did you know that fisherman chic is the latest trend in interior design?  Not.  Those are just some fishing nets I've tea-dyed on my stove and hung up to dry.  You guessed it, I'm also the scenic painter, set designer, and set dresser for Carousel. FYI two-liter soda bottles make dandy fishing buoys with just a little creative papier mache-ing and craft paint!

Did I also mention my parent's are visiting and staying in my apartment for a couple of days?

I know, I know - I still owe you all a Once review.  Well, you'll just have to keep waiting.

Some Enchanted (?) Evening..

There is nothing appealing about the prospect of watching a high school production of South Pacific (though perhaps only slightly more appealing than the prospect of seeing a high school production of Rent or Miss Saigon). Not that it’s a bad show. In fact, I think South Pacific is one of the under-rated R&H shows because it always gets overshadowed by its more popular siblings, Carousel and The Sound of Music. I mean, the score is brilliant: I’m Gonna’ Wash That Man Right of My Hair, Some Enchanted Evening, Bali H’ai, Young Than Springtime, A Wonderful Guy, Honey Bun - not a dud in the lot of ‘em. And the book unapologetically attacked racism and bigotry long before the current trend of obsessive PC-ness. The pitfall of the R&H canon is that on the surface, all the shows seem deceptively simple and “old-fashioned” because of their outward musicality, colorful locales and comedic predilections. But on closer inspection, these works were groundbreaking social commentaries: The King & I - racial stereotypes and feminism, Carousel - abusive relationships, The Sound of Music - Nazis, etc, etc. South Pacific is no exception. To quote one of its songs, “You've got to be taught to hate and fear,…You've got to be taught before it's too late, Before you are six or seven or eight, To hate all the people your relatives hate…” And remember, this was 1949! Compare that to just about any lyric in Legally Blond or The Wedding Singer.

This brings me to the high school production of South Pacific I attended last night at the Delbarton School in Morristown, NJ. Let me preface my comments by saying that I am not in the habit of reviewing “non-professional” productions. And this isn’t even really a review, just some observations about the production. Believe me, I give props to any school that has the balls not to cut its arts funding and any student brave enough to get up on stage in the face of peer ridicule. Face it, being the lead in the school musical is not the same as being the quarterback or head cheerleader. Sad, but true. Anyway, we knew we were in for an interesting evening as soon as we heard the opening "Bali H’ai" theme in the overture. Funeral march anyone? Kudos for even getting a full orchestra of students (with a sprinkling of ringers) to learn the score; but I’d rather hear half an orchestra play well/at the proper tempi than a large one where you sacrifice tempi so that the musicians can get through the score. If musician quality wasn’t the issue, than the conductor desperately needed a red bull or should have done a line of cocaine before starting the show. Anyway, my main gripes with the production weren’t the performances. By and large the cast was extremely talented and there were some truly outstanding voices onstage. My main problem was with the direction, or rather lack thereof. When a show is three-plus hours long, you can’t have the leads just stand there. The director didn’t seem to understand the basic defining principle of musical theater - that the songs are a continuation of the preceding dialogue/scene and shouldn't stop the show's forward momentum. “A Wonderful Guy” and “Wash That Man” are scenes between Nellie and the girls, not cute songs merely played to the audience. I won't even detail the problems with the choreography since they are the same as with the directing - it was random and had no relation to what was happening in the scene, the time period or the characters (just because someone can do a split or a flip doesn't mean that it's appropriate). The performers were all energetic and totally committed to what little blocking they were given. Nellie, Bloody Mary (for full disclosure, the actress playing Bloody Mary is one of Val’s students) and Emil were the obvious vocal stand outs.

It’s especially frustrating to see the obvious care and financing dedicated to the physical aspects of the production - sets, costumes, lighting (especially good), talent - not matched in the direction and staging. It is clear that a strong directorial vision would have elevated the production above your average high school fare considering the abundant talent on the stage. No matter, the talent and enthusiasm on stage was clearly visible and the audience seemed thoroughly pleased with the final result. And I guess when it comes to a high school production, there isn’t much more you can ask for.

What's up at "Leap of Faith"? And my regular bitching and moaning...

I actually caught LOF about a week and a half ago, but since I've been practically living at the CDC theatre for the last week or so because of Carousel, I've not had much time to write.  Yes, I know, everyone's busy and I'm just a big, fat whiner.  But hypothetically, if you're an actor and you can't commit to - oh, let's say at least 60% of the rehearsals for a show - why do you even bother to audition?

Or once you find out the extent of the commitment, why do you except the job offer anyway?  Am I being unreasonable?  Crazy?  Both??  Someone please explain this to me because like an idiot, I've actually attended every rehearsal.

Ugh, I'm going to stop right now before I start an angry, bitchy rant that offends community theatre actors everywhere.  Not that propriety has ever stopped me from squarely planting my foot down my throat in the past.  God knows, I'm surely at the top of any NJ theatre blacklist.

But as I get older, I find it more and more difficult to politely keep my complaints and frustrations to myself.  If there's such a thing as incontinence of thought, someone get me a value pack of super absorbent adult diapers stat because I've recently developed a unique strain of diarrhea of the mouth I like to call "did-I-say-that-out-loud?" syndrome. You know the saying, "If you have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all"?  If I abided by that particular bon mot I'd literally have nothing left to say.

I already see myself fifteen years down the road pushing a shopping cart down the street and yelling obscenities at people who unknowingly step into my path.  I finally understand where they're coming from.  And I accept the fact I will likely be a crazy, raving lunatic that people cross the street to avoid.

But back to the original topic at hand...

I'll post my review separately, but it seems the producers over at the St. James Theatre are having trouble filling the house for LOF.  It's regularly on TDF (where I got my tickets) and I received an email just last week from the production office offering free tickets to performances through the weekend.  It's a major, new Alan (Little Mermaid, Aladdin, Beauty & the Beast, et al) Menken Broadway musical and they're giving tickets away through a mass email?  Sounds pretty desperate to me.

I actually enjoyed the show, but apparently I'm in the minority.

I should also give a shout out to the always wonderful Kendra Kassebaum (she plays the lead character's sister) who I worked with on a national tour of Grease! years ago - in another lifetime - back when we didn't all have cell phones or laptops.  We whiled away the hours on the tour bus reading actual books - yes, made out of paper - and listening to CDs - you know, those round, silver thingies we now use as coasters.

I shall always fondly remember Kendra and Gaelen Gilliland entertaining the cast on long bus rides with their over-the-back-of-the-seat puppet shows.  Oh, how I long for those simpler days of yore.

A double dose of Porgy and Audra...um, I mean Bess, and quick thoughts on Leap of Faith

My unholy obsession with Audra McDonald continues.  Not only have I already seen the current revival of Porgy and Bess twice, but twice within three days!!  Yes, I'm practically a stalker.  I'm not even kidding.  Just ask Trish about my strange and elaborate plan for Audra's performance at my funeral.  There won't be a dry eye in St. Patrick's Cathedral.

Given this obsession, you should take anything I say in this review with a grain of salt, because I would never, ever say anything negative about the lovely Audra.  And thanks to TDF, I was able to get a double dose of that luminous voice last week.

The Gershwins' Porgy and Bess
Richard Rodgers Theatre
Tuesday, May 15 @ 7pm
Thursday, May 17 @ 8pm

Given Sondheim's scathing letter to The New York Times flaming Audra and director Diane Paulus for thinking they could "improve" Gershwin's masterpiece, I had mixed feelings going into the theatre.  Besides Audra, Sondheim is the other musical theatre icon I blindly worship.  Would this little tiff cause me to make the ultimate Sophie's choice?  Thankfully, no. 

The controversy surrounding the revival has since died down.  Paulus and team dropped the most radical of the talked about changes (an added happy ending), opting instead for the less radical addition of dialogue in place of the recitative.

Originally, I was going to first-act the show Tuesday night, thinking I'd sit through the whole thing on Thursday with Trish and Chris Grimm (our Billy Bigelow in Carousel who I was taking as a graduation gift - congrats!).  But I was in tears (in a good way) after "Bess, You Is My Woman" and I couldn't bring myself to leave at intermission.

Hearing those legit voices singing that romantic Gershwin score only made me long for the days before the American Idol-ization of Broadway, when gorgeous, trained voices could impress without riffing and screeching their way through a score.

And for those who thinks classic musicals are old fashioned and quaint, well, they obviously don't have a clue.  How many shows in the past twenty years include two gruesome on-stage murders, an extended rape sequence, a main character who's a slut and a drug addict and a not-so-happy ending? 

For Broadway standards, the singing is impeccable.  It's not opera caliber, but you'll likely never hear that quality of singing on a Broadway stage ever again.  The ensemble sound is gorgeous and the harmonies are breathtaking. Thank you again, George Gershwin.

The acting is also first rate.  Which only makes me wonder why other shows can't be cast with better singers.  Usually, the argument is that the director chooses an actor who sings over a singing actor, presuming that someone with an incredibly beautiful voice probably can't act with equal proficiency.  But that didn't seem to be an issue in this case.  So what's the deal, casting directors?!

Audra, of course, is glorious and should already make room on her bookshelf for a fifth Tony.  Norm Lewis, besides being the nicest guy on Broadway (he met me once years ago and will still stop and greet me by name whenever I run into him on the street) sounds better than ever and his character's transformation from vulnerable cripple to courageous hero is impressive.

Like me, Chris and Trish were in tears throughout, as was most of the audience.  With the exception of the recent revival of The Normal Heart and the first 10 minutes of The Lion King, I have not seen anything on Broadway more moving or thrilling. 

My only complaint would be with the sound design.  Though the orchestra is large by Broadway standards, it sounds thin and tinny through the house speakers and doesn't match the lush vocals coming from the stage.  And though I'm usual fine with a minimalist esthetic when it comes to set design, I don't think this production benefits from a stripped down approach, especially in the picnic scene.  A big white, sheet and a a sad, little bush?  That's the best you could come up with?  Oh well, I guess that's two complaints.  Who cares, Audra's in it!

Leap of Faith
St. James Theatre
Thursday, April 12, 8pm performance

I must be getting less critical in my old age, because I actually liked Leap of Faith.  Yes, it opened and closed in a hot second and the reviews were unanimous pans, but I enjoyed myself.

It's not a classic by any standards, but the story was engaging, the music was fun and it had a wonderful cast.  Trust me, I've seen Dance of the Vampires, High Fidelity, Nick & Nora and Lestat - I know bad. 

I think LOF may have suffered from premature show-jaculation.  That's not a technical term, by the way, I just made it up.  Instead of taking time to really work out the kinks and fine tune the book and score after its initial out of town tryout, they decided to rush into production months early because the St. James opened up (thanks to the forgettable On A Clear Day... revival's early closing).

Though Menken's score isn't on par with his early Disney days, he knows how to write a catchy tune and how to make a power ballad land.  He understands how a show tune needs to develop and how it works dramatically within the structure of a musical.  These are skills missing from much of the current pop music crossover artists who, though I applaud their ambition, don't really care to learn the history or fundamentals of theatre composing.  By definition, innovation requires understanding of what has come before.  I'm all for change, but why repeat the mistakes of your predecessors out of ignorance?

Anyway, off my high horse. 

As has been written in many of the reviews, the story generously borrows from The Music Man and 110 in the Shade.  This didn't really bother me, because the setting and period change were enough of a twist to keep me interested. 

Raul Esparza is in his regular intense-but-tyring-not-to-seem-intense mode.  He's probably not ideal for the role (I'd have gone Brian d'Arcy James or even Eric McCormack for some star power.  Can Bradley Cooper sing?  Hmmmm?) but he's always consistently great.  As Esparza's love interest, Jessica Phillips is a great match vocally and has a sincerity and warmth that was totally missing from her performance in Priscilla (maybe her awful Australian accent was the culprit).  As Esparza's stage sister, Kendra Kassebaum adds a likability factor to a somewhat under-written character. 

If the show can overcome the stigma of its quick Broadway demise, I can see it being a staple at the regional houses.

Birthday fun

My dear blogolytes, I have so much to tell you about. It’s been such a busy couple of days for me. Though not earth shatteringly exciting, I did have a very good birthday. Of course, it was nothing compared to Chris’ legendary rooftop surprise birthday party of several years back that was infamously marked by massive alcohol consumption, male strippers and penis ring toss. If you were there, I know you remember it with fond memories and just a whiff of regret. I won’t name names, but you know who you are Lori Leshner! Anyway, the days of Boogie Nights-type debauchery are over for this old warhorse. Instead, Trish and I had a relaxed dinner at a new midtown place called, Nizza. It’s a very affordable small-plate, tapas type joint where you can split about four or five dishes between a couple of people. Quite yummy. Definitely try the fried ravioli.

Next up was Seth’s Broadway 101 at New World Stages. This was a reprise of last year’s Actors’ Fund Benefit. The premise of the concert is that Seth is a “professor” of the Broadway musical and during the 90-minute “class,” he mixes stand-up, childhood stories, video clips and performances by a cast of Broadway singers, dancers, actors and musicians to demonstrate the numerous jobs that go into getting a show up and running (i.e. vocal arranger, swing, orchestrator). It is, of course, a show queen’s wet dream with more in-jokes and insider “winking” than a page of posts on All That Chat. The highlights: Andrea McArdle singing “Tomorrow”, Lillias White's riff-tastic "Don't Rain on my Parade", Jonathon Groff’s “Morning Glow”, clips of Cher singing “I Feel Pretty” (“…such a pretty meh”) and the whole head voice/chest voice tutorial. I’m sure this show will become a regular season offering, so I definitely recommend catching it the next time around. For all you star fuckers, seen at the 7:00 PM showing were Emily Skinner and Barrett Foa, whose aunt (the mother of one of our opera kids) is desperately trying to pair up with me. Not gonna’ happen Carla! I’m sure he’s a nice boy, but he’s totally Broad-WAY and I’m not. He’s also likely a decade younger than I and I do not date anyone who can’t remember Atari or old school TV, that’s before the “M” was added. Now, a hook-up? - that’s a different story. We’ll talk.

I took a day off from the Morg (that’s insider slang for Morgan Stanley) yesterday for my “fake” birthday since my real birthday was actually on Monday. Trish and I decided to spend the day at the Bronx Zoo. And we literally spent the whole day, seven hours, walking through all the exhibits. I know, sounds extreme. But since one of my degrees is a bachelors in biology, I loves me some scientific shit. Anyway, I highly recommend a visit, especially the gorillas in the Congo exhibit and the bug carousel (see fun pics below).

Me and my praying mantis

Trish and her bug

My new bff

After a power nap, Trish and I headed into the city to meet Dan and Chris at Whym, A new restaurant in midtown. The food was uniformly good and the atmosphere nice without being too fancy. If anything, it’s a bit on the chic-fag side, but very comfortable. Chris, of course, disagreed with my assessment until I pointed out the crystal bejeweled hanging lampshades and tight black-teed waiters. For dessert, we headed to Café Mozart where we had the nastiest (in a good way) selection of desserts - the Mozart dessert sampler and a fruit and pound cake chocolate fondue platter. As usual, any celebration involving me always revolves around gluttonous excess in the food department. So other than some splattered chocolate and an extreme case of heartburn, the evening didn’t stray into “Gays Gone Wild” territory.

Danced in my scanties / Three bucks a night was the pay / But I'm here...

If you don't know that quote, your rainbow membership is hereby revoked by order of The Friends of Dorothy.

But yes, I'm still here but extremely busy, so I haven't been quite as prolific with posting recently.  So much has happened since the ball dropped on 2012 that I don't even know how to start filling you in on my latest adventures.  I guess I'll just start typing and hope to finish before I need some lunch or before some selfish banker type interrupts my "me" time with a trivial request to book travel for some multi-billion dollar IPO.  Anyhoo...

Juan, Val and I spent several agonizing days in January locked in the mold-friendly walls of the CDC theatre auditioning folks who apparently cannot count to 16 (all you non-theatre folks, don't worry, you're not meant to get that reference).  The question weighing most heavily in people's minds was why we bothered to audition our sister, Trish, instead of just handing her the role of Carrie.  Well, because unlike most community theatre in New Jersey - and probably the nation at large - we actually don't pre-cast our shows.  I know, a bold and original concept, but we're crazy that way.

Sis was wonderful, of course.  But as they say in the casting biz, there was someone else who auditioned that turned out to be a better fit.  And yes, she still talks to us.

Our biggest surprise was the pathetic turn out for the auditions.  Is there seriously a baritone alive who would not sell his soul to play Billy Bigelow?  This, my friends, is the community-theatre-versus-professional-theatre conundrum.  An audition for Carousel in NYC would cause a stampede of "Julie"s and "Billy"s to storm the AEA audition center.  In Cranford, NJ, not so much.  It seems musical theatre's legacy is in the hands of performers who don't wish to appear in a show written before 1990 or that has the adjective "legit" in any way, shape or form associated with it.  Are we destined for a future filled with musicals based on mediocre films?  Dear God, what's next, Ghost the Musical?  Oh, wait...

We're now three weeks into rehearsals and though most of the first act is blocked, we still don't have a full cast.  Yup, we like to play on the edge.  We're kooky like that.  Fingers crossed that our potential new Jigger works out.  Otherwise, we're sort of fucked. 

In other news, the audition requests for our summer high school production of Legally Blonde are pouring in.  I can't wait to watch fourteen and fifteen-year-old girls try to act like sexy sorority co-eds!  I smell a law suit.

Believe it or not, I have yet to watch an episode of "Smash".  I'm all for promoting musical theatre on national TV, but the idea that Katharine McPhee would wow any panel of jaded Broadway professionals (singing Christina Aguilera, natch) is dubious, to say the least.  Instead, I choose to waste the precious few moments of my free time in the ultra realistic milieu of a post-apocalyptic world filled with "The Walking Dead."  Yes, I'll choose a real zombie over Katharine McPhee anyday.

Stay tuned for reviews of How to Succeed (viewing #2 with Nick Jonas), Merrily We Roll Along at Encores! and On a Clear Day You Can See Forever.

I'm going to be in a writing frenzy over the next few days, so you'll have plenty of bed time reading material coming your way shortly.

For the Love of Audra! Audra McDonald at Avery Fisher

This guy

Who’s got two thumbs and squealed like a 12-year-old girl at a Justin Bieber concert upon hearing the announcer utter the five most thrilling words in the English language:  “Please welcome Ms. Audra McDonald”? 

This guy.

Yup, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I have an unholy obsession with all things Audra.  When it was announced she was giving a concert at Avery Fisher, I went online immediately - well, after weeping uncontrollably with joy - to purchase tickets.  I haven’t missed a single one of her New York appearances (Broadway or concert) since she first won my heart as spunky Carrie Pipperidge in Lincoln Center's 1994 Carousel revival.

I know, I'm just a cult affiliation and scraggly beard short of "stalker" status.

Trish nearly gave me a coronary, though, when she called my office ten minutes to five (the concert started at 7 PM) explaining she was still in Jersey and was going to hop in her car right then and drive straight to Lincoln Center.  I wished her luck, hung up the phone, ripped open a bag of cheddar and sour cream Ruffles and started binge eating. 

Not that Trish’s situation had any bearing on my attendance.  Hell no.  But I was experiencing sympathy stress just imagining what it would be like stuck in the Lincoln Tunnel knowing Audra was emoting to my empty seat. 

These thoughts only fueled my paranoia.  There was no way I was going to be late.  I left my midtown office immediately so I'd have a reasonable two hours to make the 15 block trek uptown to Lincoln Center.  You can never be too cautious when it comes to Audra.

When I exited the subway at Lincoln Center I texted Trish for an update.  She was still stuck at the Lincoln Tunnel.  I did what any sensible super-fan would do and headed straight to the box office, left Trish's ticket and headed to my seat.  Nothing is more important than family, except Audra.  Trish would have to fend for herself. 

Because the concert was being taped live for PBS broadcast, the usher gestapo was out in full force exclaiming, “No late entry.  You cannot leave the theatre once the performance has started.  There is no intermission.”  These weren’t your typical grumpy, elderly ushers.  Oh no, for a live Audra taping you get burly, secret service types in tuxes with white, curly phone-cord earpieces.

Since the concert was also a benefit for Lincoln Center, the audience skewed into two very distinct demographics.  Seated up front with their stretched-faced wives were the wealthy elite, all tuxedos and bored expressions.  Sure, they had an idea who Audra was - "that black woman from the TV show" - but they weren't true fans.  Meanwhile, the more youthful, skinny-legged-pant-wearing, theatre nerd contingent was scattered about, delegated to the rear orchestra and balconies. 

At 7 PM on the dot, the house lights went down and the concert began.  Huh?  Lincoln Center?  Gala event?  Wealthy New Yorkers?  On time?

Trish’s unused seat mocked me with its empty stare, but once Audra uttered her first sung phrase, “I happen to like New York…” everything else became irrelevant.  By the end of Audra’s second number (her now signature version of Jason Robert Brown's “Stars and the Moon”) I resigned myself to the fact that Trish was going to miss the concert, leaving me with a super convenient place to lay out my coat and bag.

Then as if on cue, the back doors swung open during our applause and a horde of latecomers came streaming through.  According to Trish, there were so many rich, privileged old people screaming and complaining about not being permitted late entry, the house managers had no choice but to let them in.

Regarding Audra’s performance, well, what can I say?  She was, as usual, magnificent and looked gorgeous in a teal gown.  Here's the NY Times' rave.  My only disappointment was that she didn't perform much new material.  Tonight's program was largely a repeat of her 2011 Carnegie Hall concert which also happens to be the material included in her upcoming new release "Go Back Home."  Even so, Trish and I were in tears as soon as Audra started in on the 9/11-themed "I'll Be Here."  And I have a feeling in about six months casting directors all over the country will want to shoot themselves after Audra's rendition of Goldrich & Heisler's "Baltimore" makes the song an audition staple.

Unfortunately, the sound in the theatre was pitiful.  You'd think the nation's premier performing arts venue would have some idea about setting sound levels for a solo singer and orchestra, but apparently not.  There was loud microphone feedback during a couple of very dramatic musical moments.  And for most of the concert, it sounded like Audra was singing into the mouth of a very large cave - all muffled and echo-y.

Oh well, Audra is still Audra.  Hopefully, they'll be able to do some magic in the editing room before the "Live from Lincoln Center" telecast.  I'm setting my DVR right now.

Happy friggin' birthday to me...

I am now firmly ensconced in my fifth decade of life.  Forty two years of debauchery and licentiousness have not been kind to my body judging from the random aches and pains that seem to materialize out of thin air.

A two hour dance rehearsal that once left me exhilarated now finds me limping and sore.  But even though what's under the hood is rusty and leaking, there's still a shamwow shine to my exterior thanks to a good set of inherited genes.  If my parents are any indication, I shall remain eternally youthful into old age.

On my 30th Birthday I rented out the back room of a trendy midtown bar, sent a mass email to everyone I knew and partied all night.  This year, I schlepped my tired ass to the CDC theatre where I spent my very special day splattered in paint and sweat.  No, it was not some kinky birthday surprise.  Instead, I whiled the day away building and painting sets for Carousel and rehearsing.  Oh, how the mighty have fallen.  Luckily, Juan and Val were right there with me.

For the first day of the forty-second year of my existence I happily settled for a nice quiet dinner at the local Thai restaurant, a big glass of red wine and an evening splayed on the couch watching reality TV.

Partying is severely over-rated anyway.

Mandy and Patti 3/29

Well, what can I say? It was Mandy and Patti for God’s sake! Amahzing - as Seth would say. No, they weren’t vocally perfect, but who cares? Even from a mile away - at least it seemed that way from our next-to-last-row fourth balcony seats - you couldn’t help but be knocked back by those personalities. Yes, both voices show the wear of long and prolific careers, but so what? The only time I don’t cringe at “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” is hearing Patti perform it. And while she does have that crazy belt / head voice split (and some very “creative” vowels) with absolutely no mix whatsoever, you forgive her. She’s earned the right not to have a mix. Mandy, of course, is Mandy. And I think you either love or hate that. Believe me, I’ve gone through phases of both, but regardless your opinion, you really have to respect the man’s intensity and commitment on stage. This man does not phone it in. Who knew funny could be intense? Together, well, they just have chemistry. They’ve both almost grown into Forbidden Broadway characterizations of themselves, but I almost prefer it to the conservatory cookie cutter musical theatre performers we get nowadays. Mandy and Patti can enthrall an audience: Technically perfect? - no - but fully engaging? - yes.

And now for my rant. (Please skip to the next paragraph if you don’t want to hear me bitch and moan.) These two are the last vestige of what I consider true Broadway personalities. Now we’re stuck with triple threat automatons. They are all “good,” but not very interesting individually. I mean, you can’t just be an excellent singer/actor any more, you also need to have a triple pirouette in your back pocket. And except for some rare exceptions, this just leads to performers that are good at everything, but don’t excel at any one thing.

Back to the concert - last night’s program consisted of standards, peppered with a few novelty numbers. And each act was anchored by a mini-musical complete with the truncated book scenes - South Pacific in act one and Carousel in act two. It was a treat to see these two, who in real life would never in a million zillion years be cast in these parts, sink their teeth into classic roles. I can almost hear Mandy telling Patti in rehearsal, “Let’s show ‘em how they SHOULD be performed.” What a trip to see Patti as an “Arkansas hick” and Mandy as the brutal Billy Bigelow. Sure, not ideal casting, but they made it work - Tim Gunn would be proud.

My fave moments: Ann Reinking’s chair-ography in “April in Fairbanks,” Patti’s “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina,” Mandy’s “Franklin Shepard Inc” and the encore duets “You’re Just in Love” and “Coffee in a Cardboard Cup.”

Take That, Martha Stewart!

After coercing our Billy Bigelow, Chris Grimm, to drive two hours out of his way to come pick us up in Queens and drive back to New Jersey for Saturday night’s Carousel performance, we felt obligated to throw him an impromptu 24^th birthday party at our apartment.

Not to worry, dah-lings, we’re expert entertainers and even with a limited time frame and budget, we came up with a celebration that would make Martha Stewart proud.  Here’s Fausto's breakdown for giving a fabulous party with only two hours notice.

Pork belly, pulled pork and ribs.  Oink! Oink!

1.  Order a bunch of pork products from Butcher Bar.  White people seem to love barbecued pork products (and cole slaw).

Tasty AND descriptive

2.  Pick up a fancy chocolate chip cake.  Yes, that would be a cake without icing, but instead a large soft chocolate chip cookie on the top and bottom and layered with chocolate cake and cream.  White folks seem to love chocolate chip cookies almost as much as barbecue.   

Oh, and make sure to personalize the cake with some loving term of endearment like, “Happy Birthday Manwhore.”* 

*Special thanks to Anisa at Terrizzi Pastry Shop who didn't bat an eye at our unorthodox text request (whispered across the pastry display).

3.  Pick up some colorful balloons.  It doesn’t matter what they say, as long as they’re festive - our choices - “Happy Birthday,” “Mis Quince” and “It’s a Boy!”  And make sure the Latino gentlemen filling them with helium knows that they’re a joke and you actually do know what “Mis Quince” means.

Aaarrgh!

4.  Pick a theme.  This was a bit more difficult given our time constraint and limited budget.  But as soon as I spied that pirate hat and sword at the dollar store, I knew where this party theme was headed.  Ahoy, mateys!

Baked by Melissa to end the party.

Another happy recipient of the Pineda's unique brand of  hospitality.

I heart Audra!

Her concert at NJPAC Saturday night was truly amazing. I honestly couldn’t stop smiling the entire evening. I was giddy like a 12 year old at a Hannah Montana concert. Two hours of solo material and two encores were just not enough for this Audra-phile. Did I mention that I LOVE Audra? Yes, I’m obsessed. Not in a John Hinckley way, but in more of an Altarholics way. It’s not like I want a lock of her hair or her toenail clippings, but I haven’t missed a NYC performance since her first magnificent (getting tired of the hyperbole? Too bad, it’s gonna’ keep on coming) performance on Broadway in Carousel. That’s actually a lie. I skipped Raisin in the Sun on principle because of the casting of Diddy/P Diddy/Puff Daddy/Puffy/Sean Combs -whatever the hell he goes by now - in the leading role. Really, how many name changes can one go through before coming off as just plain silly? Can you say identity crisis? And if you’re going to change your name, why would you choose “Puffy”? Anyway, witnessing the perfection that is Audra - did I mention that I LOVE Audra? - didn’t come without its trials. Trish and I risked life and limb to venture into downtown Newark, which resembles those old black and white pictures of seedy 42nd Street from the 70’s with all the prostitutes and crack heads. “If you got rid of those homeless people, these building would be so pretty,” was Trish’s reaction to our downtown excursion as I checked to make sure the car doors were locked.

The reason I’m obsessed with Audra is that she is such an incredible actress whose acting never interferes with the quality of her singing. She never “sacrifices” her sound for the performance, yet still manages to act circles around most other actresses and singers. She can make you cry with her performance, but if you closed your eyes, you would swear you’re listening to a studio recording. It’s not that I mind when a singer compromises some vocal quality for the sake of truthful performance, it just seems like Audra doesn’t need to. And in my lifetime of theater-going, there are scant few who have this ability (maybe Carolee Carmelo? I’m obsessed with her, too, by the way, but I’ll gush over her the next time I see her perform - if you wanna’ be blown away, see her on Youtube singing “Do You See What I See” but listen all the way through). Anyway, if you’ve never seen Audra perform or listened to a recording, go to Amazon.com and order any one of her CD’s and I’m sure you’ll be brainwashed into the Audra-cult. Don’t fight it, give in! Did I mention that I LOVE Audra? And if possessing a flawless voice and impeccable acting chops were not enough, she’s also gorgeous. I think she’s my straight crush.

As far as Saturday’s concert, she performed songs from Broadway musicals and movie musicals with a full orchestra. Although she didn’t stray far from the classics - R&H, Lerner & Loewe, Harold Arlen, Sondheim and Styne - she did veer into the realms of contemporary Broadway with selections by Jason Robert Brown, Adam Guettel, Michael John LaChuisa and some contemporary jazz arrangements of classics (“Edelweiss”, “Over the Rainbow”). Her audience banter between songs was casual and relaxed, mainly personal stories of her career and family life, although she did seem to be pulling some of the anecdotes out of her ass. But this only added to a more intimate feeling in the cavernous 2,500 seat PAC. Next up, Broadway Musicals of 1954 at Town Hall with my other semi-obsession, Sierra Boggess aka "The Little Mermaid".

Hugh Jackman on Broadway - the hottest, gayest show on earth

Still wandering around in a haze, mesmerized by his manly physique, dashing good looks and sparkling smile, I completely forgot to post my thoughts on Hugh Jackman's one man Broadway show.

The duality of Hugh, his shit kickin' side and...

With prime orchestra seats topping $300 each, Trish and I had resigned ourselves to admiring the adorable Aussie's beauty from afar.  But preview performances had been popping up on TKTS so we decided to take a chance.  We lucked out, and last Thursday we snagged a pair of mid-mezzanine seats for 40% off. 

The show itself is just a glorified cabaret act, not even Vegas-worthy due to the lackluster production values, but who cares?  It's Hugh-freaking-Jackman!  The audience was pumped, cougars and queers waiting breathlessly for his entrance. 

Here's the play-by-play:


...his "softer" side.



The lights dim and the strains of the overture begin - a medley of "One Night Only" from Dreamgirls and "Oh, What A Beautiful Mornin'" from Oklahoma!  Can it get any gayer?  Just you wait, 'enry 'iggins, just you wait.

Hugh's disembodied voice begins the a capella opening from Oklahoma! and the crowd goes nuts.  Then he enters.  Trish and I and the entire audience gasp, blinded by his beauty, then sigh in unison, hypnotized by his shimmering, white teeth.  Seriously, this is what I imagine it must have felt like to be at a Beatles concert.  I was surprised panties didn't get flung onstage.  I gripped Trish's leg and I think we were both just one breath away from hyperventilating and passing out.

After some opening patter, Hugh goes into his next number, "One Night Only."  And just to make sure no show will ever top his on the gay-meter, the evening continues with a cover of "Fever", a snippet of patter from The Music Man, a medley of movie musical numbers and a tribute to Peter Allen with Hugh decked out in tight, gold-lame pants and shimmering gold top.  The only thing that could possibly make the show any gayer would be a guest appearance and duet with Liza Minelli. 

Sure, the show's cheesy at times (which actually adds to the show's charm) and Hugh's voice is strong if not conventionally beautiful.  But he's an incredible entertainer, performer and actor with charisma to spare and an easy and honest stage presence that makes you feel like you're hanging out with him in his living room.  It doesn't hurt either that he shows some bare chest and air humps the audience.

I was most impressed by his "Soliloquy" from Carousel.  He needs to get his Billy Bigelow on film before he ages out of the role (Hugh currently owns the film rights to the musical).  Incidentally, Cameron Mackintosh was in the audience (he's producing the Les Mis movie that Hugh's starring in).

I'm not surprised the show is selling out, Hugh's appeal crosses every demographic - straight gals want to fuck him, gay men want to get fucked by him and straight men want to be him. 

My one complaint?  Lose that long-haired brunette chorus girl.  She's dead weight and fell out of at least three turns at the performance we saw.  You have to suck pretty bad to pull focus from Hugh.

My friend, Chris, the business rep for AGVA, had been fighting to keep the show - clearly a variety show - under AGVA's jurisdiction.  Sadly, Actors' Equity yanked it away from under him.  Come on, now, Equity, way to kick a girl when she's down.  Cheer up, AGVA, at least you still have The Radio City Christmas Show.

Broadhurst Theatre
Thursday, November 3
8pm performance

Unlike most of the civilized world, my weekends are not a time to rest and recuperate from the daily grind of the week.  Enjoy a Sunday afternoon stroll through the park?  A leisurely brunch at a cozy cafe?  A lazy Saturday on the couch catching up on missed TV?  Yeah, right.  How's this for leisurely - Friday, work eight hours in the office and then commute to NJ to play in the pit for Little Women; Saturday, spend the morning building sets and then play a matinee and evening performance of Little Women;  Sunday, rehash elementary school memories papier mache-ing dock posts and painting sets at the CDC Theatre and then lead a 3 hour Carousel rehearsal.

After a weekend like that, sitting in my comfy, ergonomic desk chair with nothing more strenuous to do than type on a keyboard and answer a phone seems like a day at the spa.

I can only fantasize about those lazy weeks in June when all I'll have to do is work one full-time job and not have to double commute mid-week for a rehearsal in Jersey where I'll be on time, yet everyone else will be late even though my commute is time twice as long and I'm relying on public transportation.

God, I'm bitchy these days, right?  Maybe I still haven't recovered from Oprah canceling The Rosie Show.  Though two lesbian day-time talk show hosts (Ellen/Rosie) does seem like overkill.  More likely, it's because the annoying Big Brother team hasn't yet been eliminated from The Amazing Race.  I just want to strangle that Rachel with one of her ridiculous sequined tank tops every time she starts whining about how tired or frustrated she is.  Oh, and can you believe how fierce Michelle Obama looked on The Biggest Loser?

Or maybe I just watch too much reality TV.

Jesus Christ rises again!

What’s up with ticket sales at Jesus Christ Superstar?  Trish and Liz (our Carousel producer) accompanied me to last night’s opening via $41 TDF tickets!  Granted, our seats were in the second to last row, but the view from the back was fine in the comparatively small Neil Simon theatre.

Trish and Liz and blurry famous person outside the theatre.

The show is slick, tight and well rehearsed - as should be expected from a production that's already run for several months in Toronto and San Diego.  Unfortunately, it’s this almost robotic precision that gives an emotionless sheen to the “greatest story every told.”  But more on the show later, let's dish about the opening night festivities!

With an advertised 6:45 PM curtain (no doubt to make sure the fashionably late arrivals would push the actual curtain time to a reasonable 7:00 PM), we arrived just in time to catch the opening night crowd swarm the theatre and to watch the paparazzi in action.  We caught Edie Falco, Megan Hilty (Smash) and Ben Vereen (Broadway’s original Judas!) posing for the cameras in the photo cage. 

I felt conspicuously under-dressed given all the suits and tuxes dotting the sidewalk.  Having just come from work, I was sporting my usual office drone uniform of dress pants and button down.  The women’s fashion ran the gamut from uber chic to hooker fabulous. Judging from the amount of sequined minis lighting up the sidewalk, there must have a been a big sale at Forever 21.  Please ladies, sequins only work on evening gowns and circus performers.  And drag queens.  I loves me a sequined drag queen.  Can I get an “Amen”?

Sorry, my alternate personality, Que’deesha, took over for a moment.  Now where was I?  Oh yes, the show.  Well, like I said before, it is a well-oiled machine - efficient and clean but lacking true passion, a remarkable feat given the story builds to a hanging and crucifixion.  The direction is oddly sterile with characters standing and staring meaningfully out into the house as they sing high notes. 

Characters don’t relate much to each other either.  Director Des McAnuff has made the choice of often staging the main triumvirate of characters (Jesus, Judas and Mary) quite far from each other, separated by length of the stage, on balconies or atop ladders.  Yes, he creates some pretty pictures, but at the expense of creating real relationships on the stage.

And the choreography, yikes - derivative of the worst 90s music video clichés.  Though well executed by the attractive ensemble, it all seems vulgar and tacky without the sexy sense of humor of my 90s guilty pleasure, Paula Abdul.  Yes, Paula Abdul.  I'm not kidding.  I love her choreography.  This production's temple scene would have benefited greatly from a little more “Cold-hearted Snake” and a little less “My Prerogative.”  

The cast is generally vocally wonderful.  Unfortunately, Josh Young (Judas) was suffering from obvious vocal distress.  While the bottom and mid-range of his voice sounded surprisingly rich and full, his upper register was shredded and seemed forced and often under pitch.  I hope he recovers without damaging his voice permanently. 

The set looks like an ugly airport terminal and doesn’t evoke any kind of setting, time or period.  Thankfully, the gorgeous lighting design makes up for much of the sets shortcomings.

Costumes were mostly uninspired with the ensemble looking like Mad Max rejects.  Mary was always in flowy, yellow, vaguely Middle Eastern garb, Jesus was in requisite white gown (except in the finale) and Judas in cool shades of blue.  Way to hammer the audience over the head with the color symbolism.

The orchestra sounded fantastic, though on the loud side.  There was little in the way of musical variation or shading.  The sound mixer seemed only to have two settings - loud and louder. 

I’m actually a big fan of the score, but the relentless over amplification created a kind of musical monotony that obliterated the more intimate moments while homogenizing the bigger musical climaxes.  All things considered, the score still sounds remarkably fresh given its 70s sensibility.  Here's hoping Lord Webber makes a return to his rock roots for his next score rather than churning out yet another faux-peratic yawner.

The one truly thrilling moment of the evening is the crucifixion - beautiful and unexpected.  Had McAnuff only filled the entire evening with such striking theatricality, I would have forgiven the stylized coldness of the rest of his staging.  Oh, and did I mention Jesus' rip-away white suit? You'll just have to pony up the $130 to get a glimpse of that coups de théâtre.

Neil Simon Theatre

Thursday, March 22

6:45pm performance

On a side note, my review for Once should be coming out shortly.  Stay tuned!