Playing catch-up - Chaplin, Closer Than Ever and Forbidden Broadway

I  know I've been MIA for a while, but I thought I'd squeeze out some reviews before my decaying brain's memory cells reach capacity (which will likely be in a couple hours because I'm seeing Drood tonight and Scandalous tomorrow).  

Chaplin

Barrymore Theatre

Friday, Sep 28 @ 8pm

I’ve been putting off writing about Chaplin because, well, I wasn’t sure what to say.  And therein lies the problem with this show.  Is it good?  Not particularly.  Is it bad?  Not particularly.  It’s, well, mediocre (excepting the incredible performance of Rob McClure in the title role).

I do appreciate the authors’ attempt to write an original book musical with an original score.  God knows, we don’t need another jukebox musical based on the tunes of (insert name of forgotten pop group/icon here).

The score’s pleasant, if not particularly memorable with the exception of Jenn Colella’s second act solo and Chaplin’s love duet with Oona.  I do give composer Christopher Curtis props for writing an honest-to-goodness legit soprano role.  How refreshing to hear a pretty head voice instead of some whiny high belt.

I love’s me some Christiane Noll, but the score does her no favors, showcasing neither her belt nor her legit soprano.  Noll’s role is also underwritten as are most of the many characters in the show.  But I guess that is the pitfall of writing a biographical musical.  In trying to dramatize too many moments in the subject’s life, you end up not quite fully developing any of them.

There are some genuinely wonderful directorial moments, though - the sequence where Chaplin “creates” the look of his signature “little tramp” character, the chorus line of “little tramp”s creating a kick line with miniature handheld feet, the boxing match representing Chaplin’s many marriages and (spoiler alert!!!) the finale where the mostly black-and-white stage slowly becomes immersed in color.    

Unfortunately, the interesting parts don’t add up to a satisfying whole. 

Forbidden Broadway

47^th Street Theatre

Saturday, Sep 8 @ 8pm

It’s been three years since Forbidden Broadway closed.  Trish and I caught the closing addition in a half-empty theatre with a painfully Broadway illiterate crowd of mainly foreign tourists.  But Saturday’s sold out performance proves that absence does indeed make the heart grow fonder. 

With several years’ worth of Broadway’s hits and misses to sift through, creator/writer Gerard Alessandrini has picked the biggest Broadway stories and stars to lovingly lampoon.  For the most part, the new skits hit their marks as the laughter and groaning of the über-responsive, theatre-savvy crowd proved.

The most successful parodies were of more recent main stem productions - Once, Newsies and Evita (“Living Evita Loca”) - as well as TV’s recent attempt to completely distort the reality of Broadway via Smash (“Let Me Be Sub-par”).  Some old favorites are thrown in the mix as well with Disney getting the brunt of the pounding (with The Lion King and the “Circle of Mice” and the particularly clever Mary Poppins parody, “Feed the ‘Burbs.”).

Because of the sharply written parody in the above, weaker skits come off as particularly mediocre (Porgy and Bess, a lame Annie sketch and a plodding Into The Woods skit that pales in comparison to the prior edition’s ”Into the Words” parody).  But the hits far outshine the misses and Forbidden Broadway is a welcome relief from recent, bland main stem offerings. 

It’s probably a good thing that Broadway has Forbidden Broadway around to give it an elbow in the ribs as well as a much-needed reality check.

Closer Than Ever

York Theatre

Sunday, Oct 7 @ 2:30pm

Maltby and Shire’s score is intelligent, witty and lyrically astute - adjectives not easily applied to most shows written in the last five years or so.  Unfortunately, it’s also firmly ensconced in the feel-good 80s vibe in which it was written.  In the shadow 9/11, the gay marriage debate and the recent recession, much of what may have been deemed risqué in 1989 (the date of the original off-Broadway production) seems downright quaint today.

The four-person cast is mostly solid, though the direction is perfunctory and not particularly imaginative.  Anika Larson and James Moye are most successful at overcoming the directorial weaknesses. 

The show is at its best in its comedic observations of life and love, with Larson’s “Miss Byrd” a standout.  When the musical strays into darker emotional territory, I think the material sometimes tries too hard to say too much. 

On a side note, I can’t believe Anika Larson is old enough to believably play middle-aged.  It seems just yesterday I was cheering on her mechanical bull-riding high school lesbian character in Zanna Don’t.  I’m so old! 

I know I should keep on topic and stick to reviewing the show, but I have to rant about the cast photos hanging outside the theatre.  With all the advances in digital technology and every out of work actor now a “professional” headshot photographer, there’s no excuse for a bad headshot.  I won’t name any names, but one actor’s blurry photo, obviously taken at least 10 years ago, in no way resembles how the actor currently looks.  I could’ve taken a better photo with my iPhone.  There’s just no excuse.  Rant over.

Magnolia wilts but the south rises again on our living room table

I hate to speak ill of the Queen (Queen Latifah, that is), but last night’s African-American remake of Steel Magnolias was sort of a hot mess.  To quote my friend, Jenn Love, this remake translates “about as well as a white Soul Train.”

Like most woman and gay men (yes, a stereotype, but oh, so true) across the country, I tuned in to Lifetime last night for some sassy southern charm and a good cry.  It turns out my southern-themed dinner was way more satisfying and than this tepid, made-for-TV version.  But let’s start with the highlight of the evening, my dinner. 

After an intense afternoon at the theatre yesterday afternoon, Trish and I decided to lighten our spirits with some retail therapy in Union Square, stopping at Burlington Coat Factory for some completely un-necessary purchases before heading to Whole Foods. 

A southern spread that would make Paula Deen proud.

Using the movie as inspiration, I decided to try my hand at some slow-roasted pulled pork.  Since Trish’s friend, Billy (a tried and true southerner), was planning to join us, I opted for a Carolina-style, vinegar-based roast.  I created my own spicy dry rub and marinated our two-and-a-half pound slab of pork butt overnight.  The next morning, I got up early to throw that mother in the oven where I let it slow roast for eight hours.  By the time I pulled the slab from the oven, it had developed a thick, smoky crust and juicy pink center.  Yum. 

For sides, we went full out Paul Dean mode - fresh squeezed mint lemonade, biscuits with maple butter spread, green beans sautéed in butter and brown sugar and three-cheese mac n’ cheese with a salt and pepper potato chip crust.  Billy supplied a sweet “happy ending” to our food orgy with red velvet cupcakes from Billy’s Bakery.  (Sigh) If only the movie was as equally satisfying.    

Of course, you can’t serve up a southern supper without the proper table setting.  I mean, WWMD (What would Martha do)?  So Trish and I made sure to round out our new mason jar mugs (purchased on our Burlington trip the other day) with appropriately gaudy flowered tablecloth, fresh flowers, windowpane glass pitcher with water glasses and white dinnerware (all purchased that same afternoon from the amazing Bargain Stop).  Can I get an “Amen, girl” from the congregation please?

As for the movie, well, I'm giving these wonderful women a pass this time and just content myself with re-watching The Help and Last Holiday.

Red Dog Howls

Red Dog Howls
New York Theatre Workshop
Saturday, Oct 6 @ 3pm

Do you enjoy your genocide with a heaping side of cannibalism and marital strife?  Well then, work up that appetite and reserve your tickets to Red Dog Howls now.  This 90-minute intermission-less play starts innocently enough with the burning of some mysterious letters but closes with a shocking scene that will leave you devastated - unless, of course, you’re a heartless, soulless shell of a human being.  I don’t want to spoil the ending, but long after the houselights came up, many audience members were still glued to their seats in stunned silence (including Trish and I - minus the silence, of course). 

Intense doesn’t even begin to describe what is revealed and enacted on the intimate stage at NYTW (birthplace of Rent and Once).  Through a series of revelations, the main character finds out he’s ethnically Armenian, though raised Greek.  Soon he discovers that his Armenian grandmother, whom he believed dead, is alive and living in Washington Heights.  Through daily visits, he learns about his new culture but also some terrible truths about his past along with tragic details of the Armenian genocide.

I know, sounds like a real downer, right?  Well, it is.  But there’s much humor in the interplay between grandson and grandmother.  Yes, we’ve seen the crotchety-old-lady-teaches-young-whippersnapper-a-thing-or-two dynamic a million times before, but the astounding Kathleen Chalfant is able to steer us clear of maudlin stereotype.   

The other cast members, Alfredo Narciso (half-Filipino, shout out!) and Florencia Lozano have a natural rapport and are believable as a couple dealing with the stresses of a wife's pregnancy in the face of her husband’s identity crisis.

The script does have some moments that veer uncomfortably close to trite sentimentality, but the incredible cast is able to overcome most of the script's weaknesses.

Bring tissues.

And don't forget to stop by Bond Street Chocolates just a few doors down from the theatre.  Go for the milk chocolate bar with caramelized almonds and sea salt - obscenely delish. 

Groping Grandpa (Sequal to Nasty Nana)

It seems I’m a love magnet to the geriatric set.  Once again, I found myself the center of some unseemly and unwanted attention at the opera house the other night.  I was set for a lovely evening with Anna Netrebko and dreamy barihunk, Mariusz Kwiecień, in the Met’s new production of Donizetti’s L’Elisir d’Amore, when the silver-haired “gentlemen” sitting next to me started making the moves. 

At first, I thought the tingling on my thigh was just my excitement over Mariusz's first entrance.  But soon I realized it was the back of my neighbors hand trying to inconspicuously brush up against my leg.  At first, I thought maybe he was just spreading out to get more comfortable.  But every time I moved my leg away, his hand somehow managed to find it’s way past the arm rest and against my thigh.  Ew, right?    

At least in the case of Nasty Nana, grandma shamelessly made her move in broad daylight and in full view of everyone in the store.  We could all later laugh and marvel at granny’s audacity and utter lack of social decorum and at the same time give her props for going out and grabbing (literally) what she wanted.  But groping someone in a darkened theatre - unless it’s “that” kind of a theatre, of course - is just a step too far…even for me. 

And before you ask, no, I did not give grandpa any weird signals.  In fact, he got to his seat just as the houselights dimmed for the overture so we didn’t even make eye contact.  I think he finally got the hint, though, after I shifted my entire body to the left side of my seat, leaving a gap between our shared armrest and my leg large enough for an anorexic model to fall through. 

Thankfully, I was able to avoid an awkward post-grope moment.  Just as the orchestra cut-off the final chord of the finale and before the ovation started, grandpa skedaddled from his seat and out the door faster than you can say “sexual harassment suit.”  I’m sure he was embarrassed enough for the both of us. 

So what did I think of the opera?  Well, that’s hard to say.  I was somewhat preoccupied trying to ignore the advances of my horny neighbor and mentally escaping to my "happy place."  I will say that Matthew Polenzani’s rendition of the second act aria “Una furtive lagrima” was captivating - at least captivating enough to pull gramp’s focus away from my leg and to the stage for at least a few minutes. 

The physical production was lovely if adequate.  A badly designed false proscenium blocked most of the action upstage and cut-off much of the set from anyone not sitting in the orchestra.  I guess that’s the Met’s way of saying “fuck you” to us cheapskates up in the nosebleeds. 

I’ve always been indifferent in regards to Netrebko, but in this production she was able to lighten up her usually dark soprano and surprised me with some well-floated top notes and mostly clean runs (though she splatted a couple of high notes towards the end of the second act).  She also genuinely seemed to be enjoying herself and was surprisingly funny.

As I mentioned before, Polenzani was the surprise of the night.  He’s always solid, but last night he nearly stopped the show (and my molester’s advances) with his “Una furtiva…”

Mariusz looked great, but his voice seemed a tad small for the house.

The chorus, as usual, sounded wonderful but was hampered by unimaginative staging. 

I’m sure the production will tape well, though, and I’m sure it will look and sound wonderful in the HD broadcasts.  

L'Elisir D'Amore

Met Opera House - Lincoln Center

Monday, Oct 1 @ 7:30pm