What happened to November? I can't believe Thanksgiving whizzed by and we're now deep into December. Here's a quick and dirty rundown of my last couple of theatre-going experiences. Check back soon for my Thanksgiving posts! Not to worry, nobody
lost a finger this year.
Bring It On: The Musical
St. James Theatre
July 14, 2pm performance
I guess this show didn't leave much of an impression with me considering it's been nearly five months and I never bothered to post about it. Not that I wasn't entertained. It's fun, totally harmless, summer fluff - a
High School Musical wannabe with a pop-pastiche score that sort of all runs together, but enjoyable nonetheless.
I'm not sure why they bothered to keep the movie title (other than name recognition) because the characters and story line aren't remotely similar to the movie.
The choreography and acrobatics are impressive, but after the hundredth pyramid I was sort of hoping someone would fall just to change it up a bit.
The cast is super talented and mostly buff, just like real high school students (that's sarcasm, folks). Of course, all your loveable stereotypes are on display: nerdy-fat-girl-who-blossoms-into-cool-chick, preppy-white-girl-fish-out-of-water-at-ghetto-school, sassy-finger-snapping-black-girl-with-homegirl-posse, dorky-but-cute-techie-nerd, dumb-but-loveable-cheerleader-jock-boy, latin-homeboy-with-borderline-offensive-accent, seemingly-innocent-blonde-underclassman-who's-actually-a-scheming-bitch, and - well, you get the idea. I do give props to the production team for including a cross-dressing, gay character even if the character is - you guessed it - a sassy black boy. You go, girl!
In the end, it has a nice message about acceptance and individuality, if you're into that. The creative team does attempt to seem subversive, but in the end, the whole enterprise still has the whiff of Disney-fied cleanliness. It's entertaining, if predictable, and definitely geared to captivate the tween-friendly, Justin Bieber demographic.
And the lyricist gets extra points for somehow finding a way to end a song with the lead character belting the word "biyatch."
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
Booth Theatre
October 2, 8PM
Has it really been only seven years since the last Broadway revival of this modern American classic starring husky-voiced Kathleen Turner and quirky clown Bill Irwin? The current production lacks the same star power but to the benefit of the text, which isn't hampered by a movie star persona.
Tracy Letts and Amy Morton give a more naturalistic performance then some of their more famous predecessors. Morton in particular gives a more sympathetic portrayal and consequently changes the usual dynamic between George and Martha. They now seem to be more equally abusive rather than having Martha just dominate George at the outset.
When I saw this play for the first time years ago, I had no idea where the story was heading and by the time act three rolled around (yes, it's three acts long but flies by), wasn't sure if they were all going to kill each other or have an orgy. But that's the beauty of the play and the writing. It's totally over the top, but anyone who's been in a relationship can identify with the manipulation, passive-aggressive behavior and general fucked-up-ness that comes with a bad long-term relationship marred with regret and disappointment. I mean, who hasn't imagined clubbing their loved one to death and then sleeping with the neighbors younger and hotter spouse? What, just me?
Anyway, if you're looking for intense - I mean
really intense - psychological drama, check out
Virgina Woolf. It makes "Grey's Anatomy" look like an episode of "Friends."
For another funny, yet completely accurate review, check out
Bros on Broadway at Theatremania.com, a new feature where "ordinary" guys are asked to see and then write reviews of current Broadway offerings. High-larious!
The Mystery of Edwin Drood
Studio 54
October 25, 8PM
I missed this show in its original run on the Broadway, but I've always had a fondness for the score and for that freakish high "E" belted by La Buckley in the finale. I'll leave
Seth Rudetsky to explain the a-mah-zingness of it all (from his deconstruction series on Youtube).
Stephanie Block comes thrillingly close to achieving the same goose-bump moment, her jaw dropped so far open to make space for the note that I could nearly see her uterus from my balcony seat. But I digress...
The only production I've seen of
Drood was years ago at a high school. And judging from that production, you'd think
Drood was a humorless snooze-fest. Granted, I'm not convinced it's a great show, but it's amazing what a top notch cast and a strong directorial viewpoint can do for a solid, if less than dramatically perfect, show.
The success of the current revival relies heavily on its cast of Broadway A-listers and their ability to charm the audience. The show-within-a-show structure - a traveling British Music Hall troupe presenting "The Mystery of Edwin Drood" - allows the cast freedom to improvise and address the audience directly. The constant winking and mugging to the audience, which I usually despise, works perfectly in this context.
The gimmick, of course, is that the audience gets to choose the ending based on a vote. As the murderer, our audience chose Jessie Mueller's deliciously campy and mildly politically incorrect take on Helena Landless, the exotic orphan twin from Ceylon. I'm so glad her career wasn't sunk by that abysmal revival of
On a Clear Day... a couple seasons back.
Yes, Chita Rivera's cockney accent disappears almost as soon as she's uttered her first line and her two ballads are now up-tempos given her inability to sustain a note, but who cares? She's Chita friggin' Rivera! A miscast legend is still a legend, says I. And she looks ravishing in a red wig.
Costumes, sets and lighting design are gorgeous. Sound, however, is an issue and the sometimes overly wordy lyrics are often lost beneath a tinny sound design. Nonetheless, unlike my endless night at that high school theatre years ago, this evening of frothy fun flew by (how's that for fancy alliteration?).
Scandalous
Neil Simon Theatre
October 26, 8PM
Really? Did no one see this coming? Is Kathie Lee Gifford so powerful and intimidating that no one dared say, "You're show sucks!" to her face during the show's years of out-of-town tryouts?
Carolee Carmelo is still a Goddess, but they didn't even give her one good power ballad for the gays to cream over. Seriously, it's Carolee Carmelo, for heavens sake! Make that gorgeous bitch - and I mean this with all the gay love in my blackened heart - belt a high "E". We deserve something in return for this very expensive nap time. Well, okay, I guess you did give us Ed Watts in a loin cloth. But that doesn't make up for the bland score and lyrics, ugly set, lack of character development or snooze of a book. It's not exactly thrilling to have the main character narrate her own story by stating, "First I did this. Then I did this. And then I did this." I'm not exaggerating.
It's not the worse night I've spent at the theatre, but I'd rather hate something with a passion than be utterly bored. I actually found myself staring at the glossy, white, false proscenium thinking, "Ooh, it's so glittery!" while a faux gospel number chugged away on stage - not a good sign.
There's definitely a compelling story here, but perhaps it's in need of a different writer and composer (but keep Carolee!).
A Christmas Story
Lunt-Fontanne Theatre
November 8, 7PM
It's been a while since I've actually fully enjoyed a holiday-themed Broadway show - probably
A Christmas Carol way back in the roaring 90s. Remember the 90s? When producers didn't have to announce that it was inappropriate to text during a performance?
Maybe I'm just a sucker for the Holidays, but I started to get misty-eyed during the opening production number. Then again, I weep every time I watch Colin Firth's character propose to Aurelia - sniff, sniff - in
Love Actually, so perhaps I'm not the best barometer.
Anyway, the musical closely follows the movie plot (or so I've been told, since I've never actually watched the movie all the way through) but adds some sassy production numbers including a clever chorus line of lamp-shade legs.
The real joy in this production comes from the ensemble of triple threat child actors - except for maybe the one who had to keep glancing sideways because she couldn't remember her choreography. I won't name any names, but it was the one that wasn't white. And yes, I'm jealous of a 10-year-old girl and bitter, nastiness is my coping mechanism.
Where did they find these little freaks anyway? And I mean that with all the love in my heart. Caroline O'Connor is incredible (to me she'll always be that nasty bitch from
Moulin Rouge) but she might as well not be on the stage when little Luke Spring starts tapping next to her.
John Bolton and Erin Dilly are a perfect Midwestern couple. But when did Erin Dilly become a "mom" type? Man, I'm getting old. Dan Lauria has the perfect warmth and charm as the narrator when he wasn't stumbling on his lines. Though given it was a first preview, I'll cut him some slack.
Pasek & Paul have created score that has a traditional sound and structure with a hint of contemporary musical theatre
a la their recent off-Broadway show,
Dogfight. It's a welcome relief from all the revivals and the now omnipresent faux-pop and jukebox scores pandering to tourists and bored housewives. I'm not saying they're all bad, but it's nice to have variety.
The physical production is mostly beautiful but the flimsy fake proscenium screams bus-and-truck tour.
Giant
Public Theatre
November 21, 1PM
Seating charts lie and sometimes row B is the front row. I know, crazy, right? Okay, now that I've got that off my chest...
At first, I was supremely uncomfortable and self conscious sitting front row center. My knees were literally touching the edge of the stage as I contorted my neck to view the raised playing area. Every so often I'd make eye contact with a cast member and then quickly avert my gaze in embarrassment as if I was some creepy old man watching a playground full of kids at recess. But then I thought, "Fuck it, I paid for my ticket. I'll ogle the cast all I want. And then I'll send them my chiropractor's bill."
With that, I was finally able to relax. And like a demented serial killer, I started to notice tiny details - the frayed netting on Kate Baldwin's wig, Brian D'Arcy James' bushy forearm hair, the trickling sweat on PJ Griffith's brow and neck, the shiny plastic face of the fake Mexican baby. Unfortunately, years of theatre-going combined with dozens of directing and choreographing gigs have spoiled my eyes to the "illusion" of theatre. Oh well, I was still able to appreciate this well-crafted, if flawed work. But from the front row? Never again.
Michael John LaChiusa has crafted his most accessible score to date. In fact, it's downright melodic. Unfortunately, it also suffers from repetition and could use some judicious cutting. Several characters sing more than one song about the same issue or problem.
I admire LaChiusa's ambition as well as the show's scale and scope, but there were times I was sure the show was ending only to have the stage lights come up on another scene. Conversely, the penultimate scene seemed rushed and the finale abrupt. It was as if the creative team arbitrarily determined the show's length in order to avoid paying the orchestra overtime.
The cast is uniformly excellent with the appealing Kate Baldwin (let me suggest her now for the rumored Lincoln Center revival of
The King and I) and Katie Thompson as stand outs. As much as I admire the talented Bobby Steggert, he seems to be cast in the same quirky, misunderstood, man-child roles over and over again.
Though wonderfully acted, Michelle Pawk strains uncomfortably with the vocals, consistently singing under pitch at the performance I attended. It worked for the character, but makes me wonder if there might be some vocal damage there.
The physical production evokes dozens of locations beautifully while making the small Newman stage feel expansive.
It's also a treat to hear a full orchestra live, especially given the beautiful Copland-esque orchestral arrangements.
