Right now, at this very moment, Hollywood and Broadway are effectively in a comatose state. On the film & television angle, we have the strike of the Writer’s Guild of America, in an effort to gain profits from internet and DVD aspects of their work, which are being commercially sponsored on the internet and other venues. The writers, In NY, almost all of Broadway (save for the non-profits, huzzah, and a few select non-union theatres), has been effectively shut down as of today as the IATSE stage hands strike over contractual issues involving an increase in wage as well as certain criteria for the hot-spot issue of load-ins. The Local One has been working without a contract since July 31 of this year.

It’s mindblowing to think that right now most television shows have ceased (or will soon cease) production cutting into the fans’ seasonal expectations. It’s mindblowing to think that as the Thanksgiving-Christmas season approaches, most of the Broadway shows are dark, threatening the economic climate of not only the theatre community of NYC, but also of the surrounding businesses and restaurants (and tourist trade). Charlotte St. Martin, executive director of the League of American Theatres and Producers, estimates a direct and indiret loss of $17,000,000 per day as a result. Mid-town thrives on the theatre and for this holiday season, its going to be difficult should this strike be prolonged. Hopefully, it will be resolved in a manner similar to that of the musician’s strike of 2003. (Incidentally, I have a parallel experience here: both times I have had theatre tickets for the Wednesday after the commencement of the strike. Last time, things had cleared up in time, but we shall see what happens here…)

I am also incredibly concerned with the Writer’s Guild Strike as I find it an incredible issue of such importance that the outcome will impact the entertainment industry forever (and hopefully in good ways). The outcome of the WGA strike will influence the pending negotiations for SAG and DGA members, as their current contracts will be expiring in the spring. Not that I don’t sympathize with the current situation in NY, but it seems to me that those who write for television and film (not to mention those actors who don’t make the mega-millions) should reap more of the financial benefits of their work. For instance, The Office had 7,000,000 downloads off of itunes last year. That’s 7,000,000 times $1.99. That is what the show raked in. That’s almost $14,000,000 in revenue of which the actual team of the writers saw very little, if any at all – I think it was more the latter. (There was some rumor that Apple wanted to lower the episodes to $.99 which was why NBC pulled the show from itunes, since they wanted it at $4.99 an episode. Who knows the truth?) Residual benefits from these unwarranted corporate leanings would provide financial security especially for those writers who don’t rake in huge amounts of money like Aaron Sorkin or Tina Fey.

I hope situations are resolved so we’re not forced to sit through more reality spawn in our primetime TV (and that my shows return in triumph) and that I can go down and see August: Osage County this coming Wednesday. For the impact on film, we won’t really see that until some lousy rush-jobs are released next summer and fall.

Note: No Off-Broadway shows are impacted by the stagehand strike. There are also eight Broadway shows still running in NY that will not be affected: Cymbeline @ the Vivian Beaumont; Mauritius @ the Biltmore; The Ritz @ Studio 54; Pygmalion @ the American Airlines; The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee @ Circle in the Square; Mary Poppins @ the New Amsterdam; Xanadu @ the Helen Hayes; and Young Frankenstein @ the Hilton. (Mel Brooks should be pleased, this strike will probably overshadow the critical evisceration his new musical received from opening night critics this week). Anyone with tickets for shows darkened by the strike are eligible for refunds and/or exchanges. Playbill has further information on how to get those refunds.

PS: For those fans of The Office, there is only one show left to air this coming Thursday. No new episodes until the strike has ended, kids.

Robert Goulet (1933-2007)

There was a little voice in my mind telling me, “You must go back. You must. You’ve got to see this.” The occasion? Robert Goulet was stepping into the leading role of Georges in La Cage Aux Folles, replacing a fired Daniel Davis in a rather public melee over backstage behavior and nonsense, of which I’m not entirely sure of the truth.

Anyway, the first time I saw the revival happened to be the first Tuesday back after the firing and the understudy, John Hillner, went on and was quite excellent. However, prior to the start of the performance, none other than Mr. Goulet himself exited into the theatre via the side door and proceeded to the rear of the house. And let it be known I said “Oh my God, it’s Robert Goulet!” loud enough to be heard by the actor. I settled in for a phenomenal performance of the show, one that I thought was better than its detractors said, with some of the most joyous choreography to ever stop a show. Just an enjoyable time – and the first time I exited a theatre among people humming the songs. I’ve heard of that notion, but I’d never actually witnessed it before, it was quite a pleasant novelty.

Anyway, I did get back to La Cage for its final performance in June ’05, since it didn’t have the run nor press it deserved it closed within three weeks of winning the Best Revival Tony. All seats were going for the 1983 prices in an effort to fill the theatre for the final weeks of the run, and I jumped at the opportunity mostly because I wanted to say that I saw Robert Goulet live on Broadway. My reasoning being “Who knows if he’ll ever tread these boards again?”

And sadly enough, I was right. The world lost one of the most virile baritones to grace the Broadway stage in the history of recorded musical theatre. His performance as Lancelot in the original Camelot opposite Richard Burton and Julie Andrews is one for the ages, and his original cast performance of “If Ever I Would Leave You” remains and will likely always remain, the most definitive rendition of that soaring ballad.

From his auspicious debut, it took till 1968 when he starred in the Kander and Ebb adaptation of The Happy Time for him to make a return to Broadway, this time winning a Tony award for his performance as Jacques Bonnard opposite David Wayne and a young Michael Rupert.

When I learned that Mr. Goulet had died, this was the album I played. Though I have Camelot, and also the LP’s of his TV musicals Brigadoon, Carousel and Kiss Me Kate, I’ve always felt that this album showed him at the peak of his musical career, before he became a pop culture joke, though a good sport and one he loved to perpetuate. (His cameo on The Simpsons singing ‘Jingle Bells, Batman smells” and his recent commercials come to mind). His voice rings out clarion on such gorgeous melodies, possibly the most beautiful Kander ever composed, as the title song and especially “Walking Among My Yesterdays” and “I Don’t Remember You.”

Mr. Goulet may not have been what one would consider ideal casting for a middle-aged homosexual in St. Tropez (again, Hepburn as Chanel?), but his professionalism and his ease with comic lines were able to help him get through the show without me ever once question his casting. And when he sang – oh that voice could still fill a theatre and I bet without a microphone at that (take that, overamplification). He performed both “Song on the Sand” and “Look Over There” with such voice and charisma, one wishes they had recorded a cast album when he joined the show.

I am so glad I trusted my instincts and decided to go, since I got to see one of the last of the Golden Age legends perform in a book musical on Broadway. Trust me kids, if the chance ever comes up to see a legend in action, don’t take it for granted. Just go, regardless of the cost, it’ll be something you can proudly tell people in later years. There’s nothing quite like being in the presence of a star.

The guilty pleasures of 1970

Katharine Hepburn in Coco. It’s not an exceptional musical, but it features an amusing score (Andre Previn & Alan Jay Lerner did the honors). Hepburn is, well, I don’t have to tell you how unqualified she was to headline a musical… but there is something about her star quality and the fun in Previn’s score that just makes for an entertaining listen. The book by Lerner is rather irritating, with all the filmed sequences that presented a flashback into Coco’s youth. Then again, when one thinks of Chanel, one would hardly think of Kate. Legendary is the Tony performance which, tasteless laugh track aside, presents a 15 minute sequence from the show’s finale, including one of the legendary fashion promenades staged by Michael Bennett. It remains the longest performance piece in Tony history. Unfortunately, the recording quality of the cast album is as incredibly poor; even in a CD transfer it doesn’t sound like a 1970 stereo effort, but closer to the primitive 40s mono recordings. Perhaps it could use a remaster, but then again, only the curios and the true fans of those involved would be interested. (For comparison’s sake, Rex Harrison sounds like Venetian glass. Hepburn sounds like she swallowed some…) But I can’t not listen, not enjoy the personality and presence of such a star taking on such a daunting task. Critical misgivings not withstanding, audiences came out in droves and the show shuttered two months after she left, though the more character appropriate Danielle Darrieux had taken over in the title role. David Holliday is in fine voice (check out the OLC of Sail Away for more of that glorious tenor); Gale Dixon is a pallid ingenue whose presence, voice and acting ability are so lacking you wonder why she was cast in the first place and secondly, you wonder why Coco would become so invested in her life. Rene Auberjonois won a Tony as the campy rival (with the over-the-top exercise in schadenfreude, “Fiasco” as well as stereotypical scenery-chomping) and George Rose and Jon Cypher also offered support. Kate was fearless and one of a kind, regardless of the medium. I find it endlessly amusing how the Tony race was between her and her non-singing friend Lauren Bacall who was croaking her way (with maybe a slightly better idea of pitch) through the campier mediocrity Applause. (Third nominee Dilys Watling from the four performance debacle Georgy stood absolutely no chance).

Which brings me to my next guilty pleasure: the TV telecast of Applause with Lauren Bacall. The musical, an adaptation of the film All About Eve (and the original story “The Wisdom of Eve” by Mary Orr) opened in NY in 1970, ran for 895 performances and won a slew of Tony’s in a considerably weak year. The show shortly thereafter made its way to London with Bacall and original NY Eve Penny Fuller, with Larry Hagman (who is pretty good) in the role originated by Len Cariou. It was this production that was filmed (on a soundstage) in an abridged form for telecast in 1973. Now the score to Applause has two kinds of numbers the brilliantly awful and the awfully brilliant, more of the former than latter, truth be told – “One Halloween,” the pastiche “Who’s That Girl?” and the title song are the winners (Strouse and Adams have done worse… Bring Back Birdie anyone?) Anyway, from an opening voice over, Bacall gives her all in one of the worst performances of a musical I’ve ever seen. The audience is immediately subjected to the revolutionary scene (at the time) where Margo Channing skips the opening night party to go to a gay bar. Segueing into her first character song, it quickly becomes one of the unintentionally funny moments ever created for a musical. First of all, the caricatures abound from wall to wall. Then to make matters worse, Bacall cannot dance to save her life and it shows. She gets tossed in the air by a large group of screaming queens extolling “Margo!” repeatedly with all their heart. Her performance stays at that high level and is a marvel for sheer presence, if little else. (I would have loved to have seen how Broadway replacement, Anne Baxter, fared in the role.)

Penny Fuller; however, delivers a nuanced and compelling portrait of the conniving Eve Harrington. Her musical selections are few and far between, but when she sings, you pay attention. Most notably, the ferocious explosion that is “One Hallowe’en” late in the second act. Applause may be the worst score of a Best Musical Tony winner, but that doesn’t stop it from being fun (if not always for the right reasons). There are clips on youtube and I believe the tape is in archives somewhere, should your curiosity bring you to want to see it. You’ll laugh a lot, I promise. And marvel at Ms. Penny Fuller. However, for the real thing, I refer you to the brilliant and highly rewatchable original film, whose dialogue is as sharp and compelling as ever, especially with its terse deliveries by Bette Davis, Baxter, Celeste Holm and George Sanders, not to mention the always-reliable Thelma Ritter. One of the largest problems of the stage musical is the loss of the latter two characters; the sardonic columnist Addison de Witt was replaced by the less interesting Howard Benedict, a producer with sights on Eve. Also in a ploy to modernize the story, the dresser Birdie became the dresser Duane, who memorably mentioned having a date as an excuse for not clubbing with Margo. Bacall shocked the blue-hairs in the audience with the deathless “Bring him along!”

So I enjoy them both in spite of myself. Sue me.

Deborah Kerr (1921-2007)

Deborah Kerr, the epitome of poise and elegance in 1950s Hollywood, has died at the age of 86. The actress, one of my personal favorites, had been suffering from Parkinson’s for many years.

I’ll never forget the first time I looked at Ms. Kerr in a film. It was 1995 and I was watching The King and I for the first time with some friends. I was struck by this unfamiliar, yet gorgeous redhead, who possessed such formidable strength in what I would learn was one of her most famous roles. I quickly became fascinated by Kerr, as I watched AMC regularly as a child and never seen her before. So intrigued by this lost movie star, I began to search out her roles, quickly becoming enamored with her presence and humanity onscreen.

Kerr was born in Helensburgh, Scotland, the daughter of naval architect Arthur Kerr-Trimmer. She initially trained for ballet, but soon discovered a desire to act. Kerr rose quickly to prominence at the age of 20, holding her own opposite Wendy Hiller in the film adaptation of Major Barbara. In 1947, MGM brought Kerr to the United States, with her first starring role opposite Clark Gable in The Hucksters. The shift from London to Hollywood is most famous for its legendary publicity campaign that begat the slogan: “DEBORAH KERR! RHYMES WITH STAR!” Well, it worked, didn’t it?

Who could forget her repressive Sister Clodagh in the Technicolor marvel Black Narcissus, or as Terry McKay opposite Cary Grant in An Affair to Remember (one of her four signature costars, the others being Yul Brynner, Robert Mitchum and Burt Lancaster)? However, she is probably best known for her role in the 1953 Best Picture winner From Here to Eternity as the officer’s wife carrying on an affair with Lancaster (most notable for that romp on the beach that has become cinematic lore).

Other notable films include Separate Tables (as the young spinster excruciatingly dominated by her mother), John Huston’s adaptation of Tennessee Williams’ The Night of the Iguana (as Hannah Jelkes), Heaven Knows Mr. Allison (as a nun trapped on a Japanese held island with a Marine), The Innocents (as the unhinged governess who thinks her charges are possessed), and a hilarious cameo in the otherwise tepid Casino Royale. Her Broadway credits include the original productions of Tea and Sympathy (Tony nom.) and Edward Albee’s Seascape.

It’s surprising that Ms. Kerr never won a competitive Oscar in her career (and six nominations), though there was subtle justice when she was awarded an honorary award in 1994, which may well have been her final public appearance. Her Academy citation read: “An artist of impeccable grace and beauty, a dedicated actress whose motion picture career has always stood for perfection, discipline and elegance.”

Due to her declining health, Kerr was unable to attend the ceremony in which she was awarded the CBE in 1998.

Ms. Kerr has left behind a legacy of memorable performance in a wide variety of genres; films I hope that you all appreciate as much as I do.

As If There Isn’t Enough Suck in the World…

Given that I have been battling a pretty miserable cold & sinus infection the last week and a half and haven’t really thought of anything to write, I’ve been dormant for quite a few days. However, I just read the rather surprising news that Clay Aiken will be joining the cast of Spamalot as Sir Robin (the role created by the incomparable David Hyde Pierce). Yes. You read that correctly. Aiken is making his Broadway debut in Spamalot. What? Have Rent and Chicago a glut of mediocrity that they couldn’t find space for him?

It is incredibly unfair to judge a performance when the poor thing hasn’t even commenced rehearsals, but can I stop my reticence that this is a less than ideal situation? Granted, I am not a fan of his personality or his singing, so I have no desire to see what he does. But to put someone into a huge musical comedy, that while still doing good business, is nowhere near the sell-out monster it was upon opening. However, there does seem to be a die-hard fan base, so who knows? I’m sure he’ll be fine and sell lots of tickets to those screaming fans (Hell, I’m sure if Hanson took over the three leads, it would be a similar situation, but one nightmare at a time). But seriously, stick a fork in that show.

Could it be a Reba/Fantasia scenario? Perhaps. Or could it be closer to Sheena Easton in Man of La Mancha? Possibly. There is nothing about Spamalot that screams “Revisit!” I wouldn’t even go back for my beloved Marin Mazzie, the third replacement Lady of the Lake. I was there the week of the Tony voting while Sara Ramirez was out with her cold and the late Darlene Wilson was going on in her stead. The show was incredibly amusing and made for a fun, if not great, musical. How it won Best Musical over three higher quality shows is a staggering indictment of the commercial infestation of everything Tony. Enough evidence of the past few years shows that the Best Musical = Most Likely to Tour Successfully. It’s a sad state when the money overwhelmingly and blatantly surpasses artistic concerns. (How many of the recent Best Musical winners were genuinely the best in their league?)

I guess it all comes down to personal taste. Once was enough for me and I’ll cherish the good time I had. No need to revisit this machine, even for an auspicious debut such as his.

In other news, part of the reason I have been away from the internet so long is that I have become acquainted with the HBO series Entourage in the past week. Not having HBO or Showtime makes it hard for me to catch up with these acclaimed shows that have most people going crazy, I am generally a latecomer. However, much like I flipped for Weeds back in March, I went completely to pieces over this show. I could not get enough of it. Bought all the boxed sets and watched them all whenever I could. While I’m equally repulsed and compelled by the excessive lifestyles, I cannot get enough of the characters and especially the exemplary writing of the show. The narrative blends the fictional world of this entourage (inspired by Mark Wahlberg’s experiences) with the reality of Hollywood as a world of celebrity and business. The casting is phenomenal, from the four leads (especially Kevin Dillon) to Jeremy Piven’s acclaimed and awarded tour de force as Ari Gold, the hyperactive and ruthless high profile agent. (Kudos also to Malcolm McDowell and especially Martin Landau for stellar guest appearances). If you haven’t, do. If you have, I hope you love it half as much as I do. Rarely do I shill, but when I do, its not without reason.

“Let’s hug it out, bitch.”

Till next time kids.

Never Forget. Never Forgive.

Though at this point in time I should probably be rehearsing Pachelbel’s “Canon in D major” for a wedding I’m playing tomorrow morning, I had to take a break from the keys for a little while to clear my head. There was simply no escaping those chord progressions (it is the same set of chords repeated in variations for 8 pages). I figure if I know the chords, if I start to zone somewhere in the middle, I can just vamp the same chords and improvise a little. Johann is dead, what’s he going to care? (And from the bridal consultation I had, this girl won’t know the difference. I doubt there have been many brides that have asked ” ‘Here Comes the Bride?’ How does that one go?” I kid you not).

But I digress. I felt it more urgent to express how utterly elated I am at the new theatrical trailer for Sweeney Todd. The first time I saw this, was the 1982 taping starring Angela Lansbury and George Hearn, preserved while the national tour was stopped in LA. While certain things about that taping are on the awkward side (well, mostly Betsy Joslyn’s “Green Finch and Linnet Bird”), I knew I was seeing something extraordinary the first time I witnessed “A Little Priest.” I remember I rewound and rewound the video on that sequence about 20 times that night pushing it so late, that I had to watch the second act the following day. Ever since, I’ve been an ardent admirer of the piece (and “A Little Priest” remains my favorite Sondheim song).

I’ve already read that Sondheim likes it, but warns that it’s its own animal. Clocking in at an apparent 105 minutes, I’m not surprised. (And given the innovations of the recent revival, it’s a piece open for lots of artistic freedom and interpretation). I hear a lot of it is sung, about 70% apparently. There’s just basically a lot of buzz that means nothing until the film is released and reviewed. With the first half sounding ominously like other just another Tim Burton film and not Sweeney Todd, I got a little worried. That’s not to knock Mr. Burton, as I adore Ed Wood, Edward Scissorhands, Beetlejuice and Big Fish, to name a few. It’s clear that the powers that be want to sell the movie before they sell the musical. Considering the amount of money at risk on a musical, one could see how they would try to showcase the Grand Guignol nature of the plot. But let’s face it, it’s a musical. With a lot of music. Finally halfway through there was some relief to see at least something by Sondheim in there, though not enough to my liking. Most especially, I would have liked to have heard a vocal sampling of Helena Bonham Carter‘s Mrs. Lovett.

Depp’s acting looks exemplary and if his singing lacks the gravitas of many of his predecessors in the role, he’s quite scary in the excerpt from “Epiphany.” (His understated gravelly delivery of many of the shows big lines gave me chills). The trailer manages to (efficiently) set-up the entire backstory sung onstage in “The Barber and His Wife.” Alan Rickman is perpetrates his usual villainy as the lecherous Judge Turpin; and also, how nice to see Mary Poppins herself, Laura Michelle Kelly as Mrs. Benjamin Barker.

One thing I noticed missing (and it makes we wonder if there will be a red band trailer to coincide) is any pointed reference to the cannibalistic nature that the Todd-Lovett meat-pie enterprise takes on towards the end of the first act. Though I smiled when they ended the trailer with Lovett’s “That’s all very well, but what are we going to do about him?” with the camera zooming in on the hand sticking out of the trunk.

BTW – Isn’t that a perfect tagline?


An Open Letter to Arthur Laurents

Dear Mr. Laurents,

It comes to my understanding via Michael Riedel of the New York Post that you wish to see another Gypsy on Broadway within the remainder of your lifetime that will vanquish memories of the 2003 Sam Mendes production. Now, I myself enjoyed that particular production, especially since I had never seen the show live in a theatre before. (You’ll have to forgive me, Mr. Laurents, at 24, I’ve missed the Merman, Lansbury and Daly productions that left such indelible marks on theatrical lore). I was in the camp that thought Bernadette Peters was a thrilling Rose, who acted and sang the part with deft aplomb. At the closing performance, I was stunned to see the legendary overture get a standing ovation, thrilled when the audience rose en masse when Ms. Peters made her entrance, and scintillated by the moments which followed, which made for a delightful time at the theatre.

Now, I also became aware of Patti LuPone and her desire to play Rose, but that a begrudged feud between the two of you prevented her from playing any of your roles in New York, where you bear great weight in the casting of your productions. It was gratifying to hear that she was finally have her wish granted at the Ravinia Festival, which sparked enough interest for you to grant her the inestimable privilege of portraying Rose on the New York stage (specifically at the City Center).

It was a wonderful production. Filled with electricity from beginning to end, Patti gave Rose a down-to-earth determination and ferocity that exploded off the stage, particularly in her two showstoppers. (The gutteral scream at the end of the ‘Turn’ left an indelible mark on my experiences as your average theatregoer).

I worry though, that a rush to remount this production at the St. James Theatre in the spring may lead to a less-than-stellar run. In order for this to be successful, perhaps you can allow the entire script and score to be performed. The Kringelein sequence is hilarious and is what makes everything leading into “Mr. Goldstone” memorable. Not only is it a funny bit, but it also is shows how Rose can think and act on her feet. Also, reconsider the reprise of “Small World” in the second act. Rose deserves that brief moment to absorb the loss of Herbie; then bury her emotions. It was sorely missed. And lastly among these minor quibbles. Don’t tamper with the Turn. It’s one of, if not, the greatest eleven o’clock numbers in the history of the musical theatre genre. Cutting even a few bars like you did was jarring to the ear, b/c one expects the full piece. Fortunately it didn’t diminish the impact the number had, but still, Mr. Laurents, was cutting it that necessary?

I know you wouldn’t agree as your opinions and attititudes over the years have remained self-serving and well, megalomaniacal. I figure since Gypsy is the last impressive work you’ve ever written for the theatre, you would want it presented it with the originality and with every word intact. Let’s face it, your books for Gypsy and West Side Story are among the most regarded in the canon, with My Fair Lady and Guys and Dolls being only other examples who are as well regarded. Hell, given the reception the show receives every time it is staged, it’s regarded with a reverence generally provided only for Shakespeare.

So put those generous moments back into the show. Regardless of what you may think, Patti is a big girl and knows her stuff and she will acquit every word with eager discipline and creativity. While we’re at it. Don’t think of casting anyone else as Herbie and Louise, as Boyd Gaines and Laura Benanti may well be the definitive interpreters of their respective roles.

And while you’re at it, record a cast album. Spring for sets. Costumes. Fill the space. Use the space. If we’re getting a full production, make it worth the $120 a person will pay. And make sure it’s good.

Best of luck to you in this and all other future endeavors (especially your revival of West Side Story).

Theatre Aficionado (At Large)

PS – While we’re on the subject, when may we expect a revival of Nick & Nora?

Blah Blah Blah Blah: Horny Teen Angst at Spring Awakening

After months of my own reticence holding me back, I finally ventured to the Eugene O’Neill Theatre to absorb the uber-hyped Indie-rock experience that is Spring Awakening. For those reading this who may have been under a rock without internet access and a chatterati account at All That Chat or BroadwayWorld, Spring Awakening is a Frank Wedekind play of considerable controversy. Wedekind, a leading proponent of the expressionist movement in drama wrote the play as a scathing indictment of the sexual repressions faced by teens in 1890s Germany, replete with molestation, premarital sex (a moment that would hold up in today’s courts as rape), unwanted pregnancy, abortion, masturbation, homosexuality, oh, you know, all the good stuff… Well, anyway, now its an all-singing, all-dancing musical extravaganza created by composer-orchestrator Duncan Sheik, librettist-lyricist Steven Sater and director Michael Mayer.

Why I held back? Well, for instance, I have always been more of a Sondheim, Rodgers, Bock & Harnick type than one for Wildhorn, Lloyd-Webber and Larson. If it weren’t for my adoration of Adam Guettel as a composer, one might consider me a little old-fashioned in my tastes. The combination of the score, the type of music I admit that I only heard when out among friends in college or at certain trendy bars, as well as the insufferable hype of the New York critics (particularly my own injured pride when SA came along and these critics and the NY theatre scene pushed my darling Grey Gardens to the back-burner) and 8 Tony Awards set about so many preconceived notions in my head which led me to consistently balk in actually going to the show. Too many people told me it was changing the face of musical theatre forever. Too many people told me it was art. There’s something to be said for a backlash against such hype.

I for one appreciate when an opinion can be backed up by ample citations of merit than the purely sophomoric idea that any show is art. Peter Griffin farts, the crowd goes wild and Family Guy rightly spoofs the American notions of what commands merit. (Tangent: if you haven’t seen that episode, “The King is Dead”, the true musical theatre fans are in for a real treat). Though in recent weeks, I’d been hearing some divergent opinions the writing and dramaturgy. At one end, I was hearing about a show that possesses incredible universality, reaching out through pop music and explicit ingenuity to beckon a freshened outlook on the impending state of the American musical. On the otherhand, I was hearing about shoddy structure, an unfinished libretto and almost terrible lyric-writing.

So I finally put it to my own test. I had listened to the album, from which I couldn’t make much in the way of a dramatic sense, particularly as I was listening to expressionistic characters written in 1891 singing about their “junk,” with anachronistic allusions to stereos and with an overwhelmingly American vernacular steeped throughout the lyrics. Then after months of holding off (I had to see Grey Gardens several times, Gypsy at the City Center and catch the palpable revival of 110 in the Shade), the opportunity arose for me to see the show for myself.

Much to my surprise, I had a ridiculously good time. The score, especially in the angrier ensemble numbers, is a much-welcome adrenaline rush. Yes, through the anachronistic moments the actors pull out lavalier mikes and sing their inner monologues as though we are at a rock concert, there is that “universality” among ages. Let’s face it, the Protestants have left an indelible stamp on our sexual mores. Though we may be more lax in how sexuality is perceived today, there are a still a lot of leftover hang ups with controversies over sex education, birth control, etc. The failure of parents to communicate with their children over the issues that make our teenage years so utterly and inexplicably turbulent is still a baffling anomaly. I felt myself tingling with excitement whenever Tony-winner John Gallagher, Jr, as the unstable and misunderstood Moritz (think Timothy Hutton in Ordinary People meets Malcolm McDowell in If…), exploded his rage into song, or the build-up and release of my favorite song in the score, “Totally Fucked.” (Steven Sater’s lyrics lack subtlety, and I assume the choice was intentional).

For all the want of it, I can’t really get into a laundry list of the pros and cons to maintain a formal musical theatre review. As I’ve been writing this, I want to address more the place of Spring Awakening in the history of the American musical rather than expound on its individual strengths and weaknesses. But I shall before I engulf further into my loftier ambitions. Jonathan Groff and Lea Michele are the leads as Melchior and Wendla, easy on the eyes and ears, and faced with two of the more unsettling scenes in the work). Christine Estabrook and Stephen Spinella play every adult in the show with aplomb (especially Estabrook). Gallagher Jr. is the standout, as previously mentioned and Jonathan B. Wright plays the gay Hanschen with the dry flippancy of a Bond villain. The scenography is a grungy post-modern hodgepodge, complete with neon lights (the lighting design was extraordinarily inventive), gothic brick architecture and a cleverly placed chalkboard listing all the musical numbers. Though sitting in the same theatre that John Doyle‘s acclaimed revival of Sweeney Todd played, I was constantly reminded of the previous tenant of the theatre. However, the show’s greatest weakness arrives in the form of Steven Sater. As librettist and lyricist, he fails to fully create a tangible libretto; you want more from his book than mere setups for each number. His lyrics are only marginally better; particularly excruciating is “The Word of Your Body,” at which I was unsure whether I was supposed to laugh or cringe (ironically it also possesses the most haunting melody composer Sheik has written for the musical).

For a show that is building in energy and momentum, Sater all but kills the moment with what feels like a rush-job of an ending. Also, the final song, “The Song of Purple Summer” felt like a bizarre variation on “Make Our Garden Grow” from Candide and didn’t really take the show anywhere. It must be stressed, the show wouldn’t take off it weren’t for Duncan Sheik. His gift for infectious and sophisticated melody brings us the evening’s highest points. You can see the audience becoming actively engaged, especially when the emotions of rage and anger vault out of the onstage band and the performers. The music is when Spring Awakening reaches the uber-heights that have been loftily established by the critics and fans. Kudos also to Michael Mayer for his lucid staging and clever use of space; and also to Bill T. Jones for his emotionally motivated choreography.

Has Spring Awakening changed the face of the musical? It’s probably too early to tell the kind of impact the musical will make on the genre, but it’s likely to be considered a benchmark of excellence. Going back 80 years ago to Show Boat, the first musical to attempt to integrate the song and story, while also tackling the serious subject matter of racism, alcoholism, failed marriages and miscegenation, we have the dawn of what is widely considered the modern American musical. Then Porgy and Bess in 1935; Pal Joey in 1940; Oklahoma! in 1943 gave birth to the musical play (yes, this was incredibly revolutionary in its day and changed the face of the genre as well, kids); West Side Story in 1957, with its revolution in dance; Fiddler on the Roof in 1964. Company in 1970, important for its innovation of songs as commentary on action and the first successful concept musical to grace Broadway. And most importantly for the purposes of writing here, Hair in 1968. Here we have the first rock score heard on Broadway, the introduction of the aural and rhythmic elements that began the decline of the musical theatre as popular song. We had nudity, simulated drug use, we had an expression of then contemporary counter culture, with a musical giving a voice to a cultural movement of iconic proportions. Jump ahead to Rent in 1996, with its update of La Boheme reflecting the AIDS crisis, winning the Pulitzer Prize and its immediate attachment to the youth of that generation.

When you examine all these elements, you find that Spring Awakening has been a long time coming. But so has Grey Gardens, what is essentially two (linked) one-act musicals based on a documentary. Or think of Adam Guettel’s neoclassical marriage of Rodgers & Sondheim in The Light in the Piazza (think his composition’s complex stream of consciousness sophistication, but cynicism-free gift for soaring romanticism in his melody). Or the R&B infused opera Caroline or Change (which has only grown in esteem since its closing three years ago). There’s also the infectious and satiric pastiche of Avenue Q and the tongue in cheek Urinetown. The process continues next spring when A Catered Affair by John Bucchino and Harvey Fierstein will open at the Walter Kerr.

Every new show is the product of everything that has preceded it. Thankfully, Spring Awakening is one of the few critical and financial successes that isn’t a tepid retread of a popular film or a poor excuse to showcase the songbook of a popular singer or group in a jukebox experience. It is an earnest attempt at reclaiming originality in a not-so-dead or dying artform (Further evidence on my opinion? Listen to “Intermission Talk” from Rodgers & Hammerstein’s Me & Juliet. That should put an interesting spin on the talk of the death of the musical theatre).

There are things about Spring Awakening I wish were different. I think it was incomplete on its opening and in spite of the seven or eight years of work put into the show, there was still room for improvement. However, it’s one of the greatest theatrical events currently offered in New York, that is bound to give you the adrenaline fueled feeling that you would find at a spirited rock concert. For the sheer theatricality and ingenuity of the experience, the show is a force to be reckoned with.

Footnote: Grey Gardens was the best musical of the 2006-7 Broadway season.

Theatre Aficionado at Large

I refuse to be a critic. I refuse to be a journalist. However, for all those who insist that I write (oh God), I figure a compromise in the form of a blog is in order. That way I can avoid formality and staid observations and allow myself to a means of expressing what it is I have to say about things.

Mostly I’ll be discussing theatre. Maybe some film. Okay. I love the genre too much not to discuss it, especially if its related to theatre or if it features some of the better actors of past and present. I may also be into discussing certain books or even socio-political climates in our world. Basically, if I want to rant about anything and everything, I will.

I have enjoyed live theatre, particularly musical theatre, ever since I can remember. My first show, at least in my memory, was a local production of Peter Pan when I was in first or second grade. That was almost killed by an excruciating production of Annie I witnessed a mere year later. (How bad? I rooted for Miss Hannigan). My first film musicals were Mary Poppins and The Sound of Music, respectively. (I always thought Julie Andrews was more attractive with an Edwardian upsweep than with a tomboyish blonde crop). From those films, I immersed myself in the remainder of the Rodgers and Hammerstein canon, as well as anything shown on AMC, when it was still good, and later on, TCM.

You’d think with such an appreciation, I’d have immediately gone to Broadway, especially growing up so close to it in Westchester County. But, I never made it there until the Ides of March, 2000. I had a terribly feverish flu that day as I attended a Wednesday matinee of Miss Saigon with my class. I was practically hallucinatory during the famed helicopter scene and ended up being out of a school for a week as a result. But there was no way I was going to miss my first trip to Broadway. It could only improve from that experience.

My next show was Cats

Moving on… so here I am seven and a half years later, much more well-versed in the art form, much more opinionated and with a Jeopardy-like ability to recall names, dates and other such trivialities that most people have long stopped caring about. There is a soft spot for many of the flop shows and scores of past, with a particular interest in Juno, Donnybrook!, The Girl Who Came to Supper, 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Dear World, A Time for Singing and Darling of the Day. (That Patricia Routledge did not have a successful career in the American musical theatre remains one of the greatest enigmas known to man).

My favorite musicals are: She Loves Me, The Light in the Piazza and Sweeney Todd. Numerous runners-up include: Follies; A Little Night Music; The King and I; South Pacific; Fiddler on the Roof; My Fair Lady; Grey Gardens; Carousel; Mame; High Spirits; Gypsy; 1776; Show Boat; Sunday in the Park With George; How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying; Kismet; Kiss Me, Kate; The Music Man; West Side Story; The Most Happy Fella; 110 in the Shade; Parade; Ragtime. I am always willing to hear new scores as well as past obscurities that may have slipped by the wayside.

Favorite plays: Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?; The Pillowman; Doubt; Long Day’s Journey Into Night; The Lieutenant of Inishmore; Noises Off; The Man Who Came to Dinner; Arsenic and Old Lace; Mary, Mary; The Crucible, Mister Roberts; Auntie Mame; Hamlet; Proof; Barefoot in the Park; The Little Foxes and The Heiress.

Favorite actors/performers (theatre and film) include, in no particular order: Emma Thompson, Laura Linney, Katharine Hepburn, Cherry Jones, Bill Irwin, Kathleen Turner, Victoria Clark, Kelli O’Hara, Madeline Kahn, Angela Lansbury, Dorothy Loudon, Anthony Hopkins, James Stewart, Henry Fonda, Cary Grant, Jack Nicholson, Peter O’Toole, Helen Mirren, Greer Garson, Zero Mostel, Maureen O’Hara, Deborah Kerr, William Holden, Audrey Hepburn, Glenda Jackson, Barbara Harris, Barbara Cook, Peter Sellers, Vanessa Redgrave, Lynn Redgrave, James Mason, Gregory Peck, Tammy Grimes, Rosalind Russell, Ethel Merman, Mary Martin and a slew of others.

People I do not care for as performers (and you may be surprised): Meryl Streep, Jane Fonda, Tom Cruise, Robert Redford, Warren Beatty, Julia Roberts (and some others). There are more, but why dwell so heavily on the negative? I have my reasons and that’s all I need.

That about covers a brief introductory. Like I previously stated, I will comment on things I’ve seen and expound my opinions on varying subjects. Plus, I would love to hear your thoughts as well.