High School musical overload…

…and I don’t mean that travesty of a Disney show. Between Beauty and the Beast rehearsals this weekend, Trish and I managed to see three of the area high schools’ musicals. I know, you’re thinking, “What the f*ck would possess anyone to see ten hours worth of high school performances voluntarily?!” Well, Pineda Conservatory has the good fortune of having plentiful student representation in each cast. Since Juan and Val ran off to the Caribbean with mom-ski and dad-ski (that’s what we call Val’s Polish parents to differentiate them from our “-ski”-less parents), it was up to Trish and I to represent. So it was Cranford’s Anything Goes on Friday night, Westfield’s Kiss Me Kate Saturday night and Scotch Plains’ Guys and Dolls Sunday afternoon.

Since I know many parents and students read this blog, I’ll keep to the positives and give out my version of the HS Tony Awards, the Pinedas if you will, based on these three productions. I’ve used character names if I don’t know the student (sorry, I know that’s sort of ghetto, but I didn’t keep any of my programs).

Best supporting actress (tie): Bonnie in Anything Goes - incredible comic timing and great dancer / Sarah Szollar in Kate - a Pineda fave - be proud of those boobs, hon!

Best supporting actor (tie): Dan Berman in Kate - another Pineda fave showing his “steamy” side / Nathan Detroit in Guys and Dolls - just a funny, all around solid performance.

Best lead actor: Sky in Guys and Dolls - not the strongest singing voice, but had a strength, confidence and ease of character you don’t usually find in high school boys. And that speaking voice, he definitely has a voice-over career in his future. Dreamy.

Best lead actress (tie): Catalina Gagliotti in Kate - no one on any of these stages can out-sing her (so I'm sure they all hate her) / Adelaide in Guys and Dolls - perfect blend of sincerity and character without becoming a cartoon, impeccable comic timing.

Best ensemble: Guys and Dolls - these kids were committed and invested in the story and in character all the time, unlike some of the other productions where they ensemble was mainly used as glorified “set-dressing.”

Best choreography: Guys and Dolls - a perfect example of using the entire cast rather than always featuring the “dancers” and everyone else stands around jazz-handing it. It was maybe not as technically difficult as the other schools, but it was always clean, tight and precise. I also give props to Cranford for somehow finding an ensemble of long-legged tapping chorus girls - a pleasant surprise.

Best musical: Guys and Dolls - was just extremely tight, clean and well-rehearsed. Some of the other shows, while maybe possessing more talented casts overall, were a bit ragged/sloppy around the edges. G&D was streamlined, well-paced and unlike the other shows, didn’t suffer from clunky transitions and scene changes.

Overall, it was a good weekend of high school performances. Now I just have to survive tech week for Beauty and the Beast and final auditions and callbacks for On The Town. Good times.

Pizza and crack

Well, Trish and I had a rather saucy Saturday night out this weekend. Even though we did catch a new Broadway play, Impressionism, the real excitement happened after the show let out.

Because we had to drive into the city from NJ that afternoon, we didn’t have a chance to grab anything to eat. So after the play, we stop at John’s Pizzeria in the theatre district. It’s one of my fave “no slice” spots in the city, but every time I’ve tried to take Trish, the line has been crah-zazy long. But not last night, at 10:30 pm on a Saturday night, we are able to walk right in with no wait. As far as the food, excellent as usual - best crust in the city - and that’s coming from someone who leaves the bones in the box.

Anyway, the host seats us in direct view of the restroom door. As we wait for our waitress, I decide to use it. Locked. OK, so it’s occupied. We wait ten minutes. No waitress and still no sign of life from the bathroom. First thought, “Hmmm, maybe I need a key?” Second thought, “Man, does our waitress suck.” Finally, a busboy wanders by and tries the bathroom door. Of course, it’s locked and he starts walking away past our table. Trying to be all helpful and sh*t, I tell him that it’s been locked for a while thinking he’ll offer a key or something. All he says is, “Oh” and walks away. We don’t see him again. Finally, our lazy waitress arrives and takes our order. Then - surprise - the door to the men’s room swings open and a server walks out. Trish gives me a “what-the-f*ck?” look. No joke, he was in there for like, 15 minutes. OK, fine, I’ve been known to take a leisurely sit-down, but I usually reserve my marathon sessions for the privacy of my own apartment and preferably with a stack of magazines, not at work. What-ev’s, I toss it up to some funky stomach virus and move on. A few minutes later another server heads to the restroom. 10 minutes pass and he’s still in there. OK, that’s just too much of a coincidence. When he finally finishes whatever it is he’s doing in there, he jauntily rushes by our table. There is no way his extreme joy, bordering on jittery excitement, could be simple relief from a satisfying dump. As soon as he’s past earshot, Trish leans over and says, “There’s totally a drug stash in that bathroom and all the servers are shooting up in there.” Of course! Come on, a line of workers spending 10-15 minutes at a time in the bathroom, one after the other? What else could it possibly be?

Trish and I immediately put our sting operation into effect. First off, we wait until the end of our meal so that we’re long gone before anyone notices we’ve made off with their crack. Lazy waitress puts down the check and I hand her my credit card. I nonchalantly head to the restroom to search for the illicit goods. Once inside, I finger the space between the mirror and the wall, reach behind and thoroughly search behind the sink and reach inside the paper towel dispenser. Nothing. Hmmm, what would Chuck do? Check the toilet! I carefully lift the toilet cover off the tank as not to bang the porcelain. I look inside - and nothing. I lift the cover over my head and inspect the inside, careful not to let anything nasty drip on me. Hmm, nothing there either. It’s got to be behind the toilet. I crouch down to take a look, but the corner of the toilet tank is covered in brown splash stains. Unfortunately, a bag full of crack, even at street value, is not worth getting my fingers and forearm smeared with sh*t. Those busboys know how to protect their stash. Foiled! I head out and break the news to Trish who doesn’t understand why I wouldn’t stick my hand in poop. Oh well, tonight we’ll just have to get high on life!

But that’s not the end of the evening’s excitement. Because the hell of weekend subway construction is in full swing, Trish and I had a nice long wait at Queensborough Plaza for our transfer. It was around midnight, so we knew we’d have a long wait ahead. If you don’t know the stop, it’s on a raised platform above the street. Since it’s only one stop from the city, the area is literally springing up with new condos, many of which face the subway platform directly. Bored from our wait, we spy one apartment, lights fully ablaze with no curtains and no blinds. Two middle-aged couples are having coffee and conversing in the living room and a younger girl, maybe 17 or 18 is hanging out in her adjoining bedroom. It’s all pretty boring, nothing out of the ordinary --- until the girl starts undressing! Yes, facing the window directly across from a subway platform loaded with bored (not for long) passengers, the girl starts stripping down. It wasn’t like she was putting on a show or anything. It was obvious she was just changing into her PJ’s. But if we had no trouble seeing her every feature - and I mean EVERY feature - how could she not notice fifty people staring at her from a brightly lit subway platform? Buy some curtains people!

In The Heights 1/21

It’s been a couple of weeks, so I hope my memory holds up. But overall I enjoyed this show very much. Sure, it is a little cheesy-Spanish-soap-opera-set-to-rap-music and the plot is wisp thin, but that aside, the real star of the show is the direction and the friggin’ cool choreography supplied by Andy Blankenbuehler. Everything about the dance and musical staging was dynamic, interesting and modern - all things that most choreography currently on Broadway is not.

Performances across the board are excellent. Vocally, it’s probably the strongest cast I’ve heard on a Broadway stage in a long time. These beeyatches actually know how to use their mix and don’t feel the need to power belt through everything - I’m talking to you cast of Wicked! And although the cast manages very successfully to negotiate within the pop idiom, they tastefully and conservatively riffed through the score, happily avoiding American Idol style self-indulgent vocal masturbation.

If you’re looking for deep, multi-layered Sondheim symbolism, don’t expect it here. It’s like the best episode of Ugly Betty crossed with the musical sensibility of the Altar Boyz filtered through a purely urban New York lens.

Forbidden Broadway Goes to Rehab 2/12

I can’t believe I’ve only caught FB twice in its 27 years Off-Broadway. Trish and I decided to catch the final edition a few weeks ago. I have to admit, I felt somewhat self-conscious laughing at jokes that left the majority of the audience in ignorant silence. But I guess that’s what happens when the audience is packed with foreign tourists and clueless locals who obviously aren’t familiar with Broadway or for the matter, the English language. Why would you see a show that parodies Broadway shows if you haven’t seen any? It sort of defeats the purpose, no? The skits that received the heartiest response were those lampooning older shows and general Broadway personalities/topics - i.e. Disney-fication of Broadway, Patti LuPone and Liza - pretty much expected from a crowd with little knowledge of current Broadway. Though it’s quite a tribute to Strouse, Meehan and Charnin that even after all these years, the Annie parody still gets big laughs.

I started feeling bad for the cast right from the opening number. You could tell by the crickets that the audience just wasn’t getting any of the inside jokes. God bless them for pushing through anyway. You could almost see the thought bubble above the cast's collective heads screaming, “This audience sucks. No one knows what we’re talking about,” as they forced smiles and belted out the opening.

Props to the hard-working ladies in the cast for providing spot on vocal impersonations of Patti, Liza, Chenny and Kelly O’Hara. The men were pretty wonderful as well, but unfortunately, there just aren’t any distinctive male personalities or voices out there worth lampooning. Still, the “Lion King”, “Little Mermaid”, “Patti LuPone” and “Feed the ‘burbs” sections are pretty genius.

Unfortunately, this show for the “theatre-insider” closed last weekend. I’ll look forward to it’s return in a few years when I’m sure there’ll be plenty to make fun off - Spiderman, the Musical, anyone?

I'm baaaack

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm so old

So I just started rehearsals for Beauty and the Beast at South Plainfield High School. Man, do I feel old. I don’t know how these teachers cannot be depressed. You’re basically assaulted by youthful vim and vigor at every turn. I don’t think I could take being constantly reminded how not “with-it” I am. I hear the noise coming from their white earbuds and think, “That’s music?” When did I turn into an old man?

I guess you could be a “cool” teacher and try to identify with the kids’ fashion, music and pop culture. But to me, that just seems like a pathetic attempt to try and stay relevant in a group that ultimately, though probably not to your face, thinks you’re just some old guy acting like an idiot.

I was never cool or popular in High School. In fact, I’m sure I was referred to as a nerd or fag behind my back. But of course, I get the last laugh. I’ve seen my 20th High School reunion pics (I, naturally, had rehearsals that weekend) and the cool kids are now fat, pregnant, alcoholic, divorced or some combination thereof. I gotta’ say, I’d never trade my current status to have been one of the cool kids in High School. How sad must it be to be in your late-30’s and think your HS years were the best/happiest time of your life?

Anyway, rehearsals are progressing slowly as I attempt to remember that these are not Broadway trained dancers, but High School students who just now are becoming aware of their bodies. High School girls have no idea how to be alluring or coquettish. It’s just a one way ticket to Slutsville for these girls. Thank you, Madonna. I reiterate, when did I become an old man?

Happy Birthday, Jesus! Part 3

Link to Part 2

Since it’s already halfway through January and most of the 2008 Holiday Season is now just a food-coma-induced blur (although I can report that our sad little tropical blackberry-themed wreath - don’t ask - is still hanging from the apartment door), I guess I’ll just run down the Christmas/New Year highlights.

So after being stranded in a stream of urine on route 22 until 3am Christmas morn, we finally made it back to Juan and Val’s to finish wrapping the presents we were just going to rip open in a few hours. The Pineda’s run their lives just as they do many of their rehearsals, unplanned and last minute. After the crazy night of church gigs and traffic, we finally arose close to noon, a record for the family. Mom is usually up by 8am to let us know that Santa has arrived, but even she was wiped out by the previous evening’s activities.

We did the normal “eat-until-it-blows-out-of-both-ends” all day. And I’m proud to report that I didn’t change clothes until after I was forced to get on the bus late Christmas night. Considering we agreed to do cheap gifts this year, I made out pretty well with the requisite sweaters, shirts, cash and (insert excited squeal here) a mini deep fryer! Yes, now I will be able to experiment battering and frying all sorts of nasty items in the privacy of my own kitchen.

As for New Years, well, I slept for most of it. Even though I was invited to several soirees, I decided to just stay at home in my sweats and greet the New Year with Kathy and Anderson on CNN. Trish’s old roomie from Richmond, Billy, brought over his new boyfriend and we sat around eating mini-weenies and chips and drinking. Old man that I am, I ended up taking a nap around 10pm waking up just in time for the ball to drop. Naturally, 20 minutes later I was in bed. But I did get up a couple hours later for a New Year’s booty call. But alas, you will not get any details about that until I’m dead and publish my tell-all biography.

Shrek

You’d think $20 million would pretty much guarantee a perfect Broadway production. Well, you’d be wrong. When I wasn’t yawning or wondering how Shrek the Musical’s creators stretched a wisp of a plot over three hours, there were some mildly entertaining moments. Not that the physical production didn’t look expensive. Costumes were often gorgeous, backdrops and moving scenery were plentiful and the onstage talent - aside from the merely adequate Sutton Foster u/s who was on last night, more on her later - was obviously the best that money could buy. But money can’t buy an interesting book or creative staging (exception: the hilarious contraption that allowed the towering Chris Sieber to appear four-feet tall. My knees ache for him). My proof? - the three bobbing heads in front of me, each of whom fell asleep more than once during the show.

Though ugly, it was clear the unimaginatively used hydraulic turntable dominating the set took a huge bite out of the producers’ budget. It’s a poor man’s Pride Rock. But I can’t help thinking that it was retained only because it had already been bought and installed and that some angry producer told director Jason Moore, “I don’t care if you don’t need it anymore. Use that damn thing because I already paid for it.” The exiled fairy tale characters were basically extraneous, too. They showed up for a song in the first fifteen minutes and then returned in the last fifteen minutes because it seemed, once again, the producers wanted to get their moneys’ worth out of the costumes.

Unlike others, I didn’t have a problem with a creative team choosing to develop the Shrek stories into a musical. Unfortunately, little was done to create an engaging or interesting storyline. There were no real obstacles for Shrek to overcome. I mean, come on, in the rescue scene characters literally run past the dragon to escape. There was no fight or confrontation, just a lot of mimed running - a lot of it. Of course, how hard could it be to run past a creature that consists solely of a large head and no apparent appendages?

You know there’s trouble when the most interesting character on the stage isn’t the title character, but the peripheral character of Lord Farquaad. Yes, he does set the plot in motion, but the most interesting numbers involved his back-story - all well and good had I been watching Lord Farquaad the Musical. When it comes down to it, I guess Shrek’s main problem is that not much actually happens. The show is basically a thinly developed quest story chock full of meaningless filler and fart jokes that don’t really help to move what little plot there is along.

With the exception of the many derivative Motown-like songs for Donkey, the score by Jeanine Tesori was for the most part tuneful and sophisticated (well, maybe not the fart/belch contest in “I Got You Beat”) considering the source material. There was a cleverness and sincerity in the score and lyrics that wasn’t mirrored in the “anything-to-make-you-laugh” desperation of the book. I found myself yearning to see the show that matched the songs rather than the other way around.

As mentioned earlier, Chris Sieber steals the show with his take on a wannabe with daddy issues. Brian D’Arcy James does the best he can while saddled with a fat suit and prosthetics. Unfortunately, originality is not what is asked of him, considering the movie character is so indelibly imprinted on our brains. He sings beautifully and has some wonderfully vulnerable moments with both Donkey and Fiona. Daniel Breaker does what he can with Donkey, but comes off as a pale Eddie Murphy impersonator. Sarah Jane Everman, on for Sutton Foster’s Fiona, was adequate. Her speaking voice is a dead ringer for Kristin Chenowith, but without the fun, quirkiness that makes Cheno bearable. Again, her singing was adequate but with some definite pitch issues and the chemistry between her and Shrek was non-existent. She was solidly average. I wonder if there is a considerable difference in how the show plays with Foster in? Well, I’ll most likely never find out, considering I don’t plan on returning unless a free ticket lands in my greedy hands.