La Cage…ewww…foul…

Thursday, April 29, 8:00 PM performance

Personal hygiene is not optional if you want to be an active participant in the modern world. How is it that we can govern small countries from our cell phones, but can’t get everyone to use soap? The foul stench emanating from a fellow audience member seriously hampered my enjoyment of the current Broadway revival of La Cage. For most of the second act, I had my jacket pulled up to my nose as a makeshift gas mask. Obviously, I couldn’t quite give my full attention to the action on the stage.

That said, I still wasn’t totally overwhelmed by this British import. My biggest disappointment was the choreography. The production numbers lacked a sense of style and exoticism. I want my drag queens glamorous and fabulous, damn it, and the Cagelles seemed a bit rough and unsophisticated. I guess that might have been a directorial concept, but come on, this is La Cage, I want to see rhinestones, feathered headdresses and high kicks! Enough with these “pared down, gritty” re-thinking of the classics. Producers should just admit they’re cheap and get on with it. And while we’re talking about cheap, the orchestra (and I use the term loosely) sounded like a couple of kazoos and a washboard. Sad, just sad.

Frasier…er…Kelsey Grammer was impressive in his Broadway musical debut. He can carry a tune well enough and is convincing as the butch half of the central couple. The jury’s still out for me on Brit Douglas Hodge’s take on the flamboyant Albin. Although he had some hysterical line readings and has a wonderful gift for physical comedy, his singing voice is almost unbearable. A.J. Shively is a boring Jean-Michel who doesn’t sing or act especially well. His love interest, Anne, was saddled with an ugly Donna Pescow wig a la “Angie.” I kept waiting to see Maureen McGovern’s head poke out past the proscenium and belt out “Let the time flow, let the love grow…” (anyone…anyone? Am I that old?).


I loved Robin DeJesus in In The Heights, but the set’s covered with his bite marks. He hijacks “Anne in My Arms,” upstaging Shively at every turn. Although I’ll bet this blocking is intentional, given Shively lack of voice and charisma. Hopefully, I just saw him on an off night.

Still, the revival had its moments and the chemistry between Grammer and Hodge is always believable. I only wish the production around them reflected the same glamour and finesse. Please, no more Broadway-on-the-cheap.

Before...

After...

Man With Van

Finally, the last vestiges of my former roommate have been expelled from my apartment. Don’t get me wrong, he was extremely polite, friendly and most importantly, paid the rent on time! But the hall closet has been bursting with his leftover stuff for the last three months while he’s been getting drunk all over Asia. He’s actually playing in the pit orchestra of 42nd Street on its Asian tour. But for pit musicians, tour is just an excuse to get wasted every night after the show since you’re low on responsibility and high on disposable income and free time. No disrespect to those musicians who act otherwise, but that has been my impression from the several years of touring I have endured. And I’m certainly not passing judgment on those who do, I’ve just had the unfortunate luck to have to appear shirtless on my last tour and any extra calories I allowed myself were certainly not wasted on alcohol. Now Ben & Jerry’s is another story. I’d gladly spend an extra two hours on the treadmill for a pint of Chunky Monkey - oh, or even better, a bacon cheeseburger, medium rare.

Anyway, back to my roommate. Hopefully, he’ll never read this. But we, (former roommate) Chris and I, had given him the nickname “Milky White” - the name of Jack’s cow from Into The Woods - because he’s blond and extremely pale. I know what you’re thinking, but it really just popped into our heads because when he first moved in with me, we couldn't think of his real name and all we could think about was how pale he was - nothing malicious intended. No, really. Anyway, Trish hasn't had a closet since she moved in this past September. Instead, she’s been using the next best thing, her bedroom floor, on the assumption that MW would be moving his belongings out upon returning from tour in October. He instead ended up extending his tour of duty until next March! So I graciously informed him that I’d be keeping his security deposit to pay for the extra months of storage and that I’d be moving his belongings into a lovely storage unit in Long Island City.

Since I’m just a paycheck shy of homeless and Trish has no income, we hit Craigslist for a “Man With Van” ad. Luckily, we found someone dirt cheap. But being extremely suspicious after 14 years of city living, I promptly hid every item of value in my closet in case this guy was looking to pocket some “extras.” Not that we really have anything of value to pocket, save my beloved flat screen TV, and I would have fought to the death to guarantee my continued viewing of Ugly Betty, Heroes and Lost in HD. Do not mess with my HD. Fortunately, the move went extremely well. The “man with van” and his hulking assistant were polite, efficient and best of all - cheap. Email me if you want a reference. Moral of story - cheap can be good (except perhaps in the case of prostitutes and maybe cheese).