Kate Baldwin at Birdland


It’s no secret that I am a fervent admirer of Kate Baldwin. From Finian’s Rainbow to her solo album to her debut at Feinstein’s last December, I have been impressed by the singing actress’ charm, poise and quirky sense of humor. And that’s to say nothing of her rangy, versatile soprano. When SarahB asked if I would be interested in seeing Kate at Birdland, it didn’t take me long to say yes. I didn’t care if the evening was an encore of her December show, I could listen to Baldwin sing Lane & Harburg from here to eternity.

The first time I met Kate, we were a table apart for Jonathan Tunick’s Broadway Moonlighters in November ’08. Over the course of the year that has transpired, Kate has achieved so many great things – a solo CD of Broadway standards, a successful cabaret debut and most notably, become a real, live Broadway star. On a personal level, none of this has changed Kate. She is exceptionally warm and gracious, easily evidenced by the time she took to talk with each and every fan following her performance Monday evening.

The program wasn’t very different from her set at Feinstein’s. The evening was again mostly devoted to her solo album (in short: buy it), and a lot of humorous banter between songs (including a lesson on “Googling Kate Baldwin,” the audio of which she played for us). However, she did add some new material, most notably bringing down the house with a spirited rendition of “The Rhythm of Life” from Sweet Charity, assisted by Devin Richards, James Stovall and Bernard Dotson, who led “The Begat” in Finian’s Rainbow. She also scintillated with Comden, Green & Bernstein’s “I Can Cook Too” from On the Town and was especially beguiling with “Will He Like Me?” from Bock & Harnick’s She Loves Me.

I consider the musical She Loves Me to be in my top three shows of all time (you can try and guess the others). It’s an utterly perfect jewel of a musical comedy, with score that is so intricately integrated with its book. The two lead characters are two of my favorites (I consider Georg the musical theatre character with whom I most connect). Kate played Amalia Balish and sing the showstopping “Ice Cream” a couple years ago in a production at Huntington a couple of years ago. After hearing Kate’s sublime delivery of that one ballad, I think it’s time NY had another production of the show. So if anyone wants to pass on the word to Jack Viertel and the Encores! crowd: they have an ideal show for the Summer Stars series, on the one condition that they cast Kate.

Meanwhile, Kate is heading to Washington DC later in the month for a Library of Congress concert of Harold Arlen’s revue Life Begins at 8:40 (with lyrics from Yip Harburg and Ira Gershwin), which will subsequently receive a cast album from PS Classics. Then in May, she is hopping the pond to make her London debut in the world premiere of Harold Prince/Susan Stroman’s latest collaboration Paradise Found at the Menier Chocolate Factory, with a cast that includes Tony-winners Mandy Patinkin, Shuler Hensley, John Cullum and Judy Kaye.

We had a chance to talk briefly about the new musical, which uses the music of Johann Strauss with new lyrics from Ellen Fitzhugh (and a book by Richard Nelson) to tell a sweeping romantic story of fin de siècle Vienna. As it stands now, the plan is to transfer the production to Broadway. The way that Kate describes it, the project sounds quite intriguing, plus she’ll have ample opportunity to do a lot of legitimate singing. (To the operetta haters currently groaning, this is NOT going to be a retread of The Great Waltz, mark my words). I only hope that Kate will soon be back on Broadway where she truly belongs sooner rather than later.

Oh – by the way, here’s “Googling Kate Baldwin”:


The Best Original Song Oscar Goes Broadway

Tonight is Oscar night. I had to miss last year’s ceremony as I was in the process of boarding a plane to visit my newborn nephew in the Philippines. Well, I’ll be back at the television, with my usual assortment of ballots and pens. The phone will be silenced and anyone who gets between me and the television should brace him or herself for flying objects. (Those who have watched with me before know what I mean).

The Oscar for Best Original Song has been given since 1934 (when “The Continental” won) and has been awarded to Jerome Kern, Oscar Hammerstein, Richard Rodgers, Alan Jay Lerner, Frederick Loewe, Harold Arlen, Frank Loesser, Jule Styne, Irving Berlin, Yip Harburg, Stephen Sondheim, Alan Menken, David Shire, Howard Ashman and Stephen Schwartz, to name just a few. It used to be that the custom at the ceremony was to present the Best Song nominees with big names performing them, but not those who originally sang them. More recently, the composers or singers who introduced the songs performed the songs in a simple setting, usually solo. Here are a few of the telecast performances, with a decidedly Broadway feel:

Mitzi Gaynor, Georgy Girl. The song “Georgy Girl” was originally performed by The Seekers, in what would be their biggest and most notable pop hit. The song had music from Tom Livingston and lyrics by none other than Tony Award winning actor (and Harry Potter book on tape voice) Jim Dale. Gaynor seized the moment and brought down the house with her spirited delivery of the song. This performance went over so well that it inspired TV executives to give Mitzi her own TV specials, which scored big ratings in the late 60s and early 70s. Georgy Girl made a star out of Lynn Redgrave and was so popular it was a Broadway musical in 1970 – folding after four disastrous performances.

Angela Lansbury, Thoroughly Modern Millie. It just so happened that Lansbury was in LA with Mame when the 40th Annual Academy Awards were handed out in 1968. Along with some of the chorus boys from her show, the star took the opportunity and ran with it, in what was considered by many to be her unofficial screen test for the film version of Mame (which eventually bombed with Lucille Ball).

Richard White, Paige O’Hara & Jerry Orbach, Beauty and the Beast. The three voices from the animated film perform their songs live and in costume (“Belle” & “Be Our Guest”). I wonder if this is where Disney got their idea to put the brilliant animated film on stage. Angela Lansbury later sang “Beauty and the Beast” with Celine Dion and Peabo Bryson on the telecast (the only song listed here that actually took home the award).

Robin Williams, South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut. This animated film from the hit Comedy Central series surprised critics and audiences alike with its tongue-in-cheek and highly irreverent musical score supplied by Marc Shaiman and Trey Parker. (One that even Stephen Sondheim greatly enjoyed). There are many amusing moments spoofing various stage and screen musicals, but it was this song “Blame Canada” that nominated for the Oscar, and presented on the telecast in full Broadway mode.

Catherine Zeta-Jones & Queen Latifah, Chicago. John Kander and Fred Ebb wrote this song specifically for the film adaptation, which was sung over the closing credits by Zeta-Jones and Renee Zellweger. Claiming stage fright, Zellweger opted out of singing live on the telecast and their costar Latifah stepped in for the event. It doesn’t really have much of a production number (Zeta-Jones was duequality, but they throw in appropriately lithe dancers around.

Finally, this isn’t related to the Best Song Oscar, but I’d say it was the greatest production number I’ve seen from any Academy Awards telecast. It’s only the second half of the twelve minute tribute to Irving Berlin featuring Bernadette Peters and Peter Allen (I posted it in its entirety last September, part one was taken down) but it’s worth sharing again, particularly for that voracious audience response (they applaud for the last 40 seconds of the song!). This is from the 1982 telecast. Enjoy:

"Wunderbar"

Many of the great musical theatre hits of the Golden Age of Broadway found their way to the silver screen, big stars, big voices and big everything (especially with the introduction of widescreen in the 1950s). However, it was less likely that you would find the stage stars who helped to make the show a big hit recreating their roles on screen. There were some notable exceptions: Ethel Merman in Call Me Madam, Yul Brynner in The King and I and Robert Preston in The Music Man (to name a few). But for the most part, Hollywood wanted to bank on their bigger, more established stars.

Kiss Me, Kate opened on Broadway at the tail end of 1948, and was smash hit for composer Cole Porter, whose style up to that point had been considered passé. The musical was a farcical romp, using Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew as inspiration. Sam and Bella Spewack wrote the book, framing the Shakespeare play as a show-within-a-show during a Baltimore tryout. The two larger than life stars of the musical have more in common with their characters as they battle it out backstage, onstage and in the dressing room rehearsal during this world premiere performance. The leading lady’s first line: “You bastard!” And they were off!

The show starred Alfred Drake, Patricia Morison, Harold Lang and Lisa Kirk. It opened to unanimous raves in late 1948, running for 1077 performances. Kiss Me Kate would win the first-ever Tony award given for Best Musical. Drake found the greatest stage success of the four, winning a 1954 Tony for his star turn in Kismet and numerous operetta, musical and Shakespearean performances (most notably as Claudius in Richard Burton’s Hamlet in 1964). Morison, who will turn 95 this month, made only one more appearance on Broadway as a replacement Anna in The King and I. The cast made an original cast album for Columbia records in 1949, and reunited in 1959 to record a stereo cast album for Capitol.

Though Drake and Morison found indelible success with the project, when MGM got around to making the film version they signed two of their leading musical contract players: Howard Keel (who would also take Drake’s role in the movie version of Kismet) and the recently deceased Kathryn Grayson to play the roles. MGM, as is their wont, played around with the script and score. The stage libretto and Porter’s risque lyrics were toned down considerably. The famed “Another Openin’, Another Show” was reduced to underscoring. A rather bad prologue was invented with Fred and Lilli meeting with a fictional Cole Porter. To top it off, the musical was filmed for 3-D, and as a result the performers constantly throw things at the camera throughout.

I have loved Kiss Me Kate ever since I saw this bowdlerized film version. Then the show opened in an acclaimed Tony-winning revival in 1999 starring Brian Stokes Mitchell and Marin Mazzie. I listened to the revival cast album ad nauseam until I saw that production on January 9, 2001. It was my third Broadway show, but the first that gave me that transportive feeling that can be best described as walking on air. The London production was taped for TV and DVD with Brent Barrett and Rachel York. They’re fun, but it’s got nothing on the superlative original NY cast (though Michael Berresse repeated his showstopping turn as Bill Calhoun).

Getting back to my initial thought, there were many musical theatre performers who didn’t get to recreate their acclaimed turns on film. Since television musicals were quite the ratings boon in the 50s, there were many occasions when a star would make a live appearance in his or her hit show. Ethel Merman performed with Frank Sinatra in Anything Goes, Rosalind Russell recreated Wonderful Town and most famously Mary Martin was Peter Pan. The trend continues well into the 60s and 70s, but most of those productions are mostly notable for their camp value (Lee Remick as Lola in Damn Yankees, Jose Ferrer and an unbelievably awful George Chakiris in Kismet, and a ridiculous It’s a Bird, It’s a Plane, It’s Superman).

In 1958, the Hallmark Hall of Fame presented an abridged version of Kiss Me Kate (almost all musicals adapted for TV were cut down significantly) reuniting Drake and Morison. Bill Hayes and Julie Wilson were the younger lovers. Jack Klugman and Harvey Lembeck played the gangsters. The telecast was one of the earliest uses of long-form videotape and was aired in color. I’ve never seen the color video, and wonder if it still exists. But a black and white tape has survived and that has since been shown on PBS in recent years. I nominate that the powers-that-be bring it to DVD. (And for my money, Patricia Morison may be the most beautiful woman who ever appeared anywhere).

Here’s Alfred Drake and Patricia Morison singing “Wunderbar” from that Hallmark telecast:

Our Heroines

This week I saw God of Carnage starring Janet McTeer and have started reading Dorothy L. Sayers‘ Strong Poison, a mystery which introduced the literary world to Harriet Vane (most famously played by Harriet Walter on the BBC). So what better way to spend a Friday evening than recalling the two ladies in their acclaimed run of Mary Stuart from last season? (And PBS, where was Great Performances when we needed you to air this gem?)

First up are some of the favorite scenes:

And here are the ladies being interviewed during a Vanity Fair photo shoot:

After seeing both this production and the import of Hamlet last year, I will gladly see anything the Donmar Warehouse wants to bring to NY.

The Art of Co-Existence, or the Parenting Fail Revisited

Had the powers-that-be not bungled the whole idea of a “Best Replacement Tony” a few years back, I would readily nominate the new cast of God of Carnage, who started performances last night. The mere fact that I want to shower them with such accolades after merely one paid public performance should be enough evidence of how thrilling this new quartet works in Yasmina Reza’s study of good intentions gone awry.

The play has been running for a year, opening to rave reviews with a cast of stars who turned the play into a sell-out event, breaking house records and winning Tonys, etc. I saw the show last May, just before the awards hoopla ensued, and had a ridiculously good time from my seat in the rear mezzanine. (Thanks to KariG, we were in the front row). I hadn’t planned on taking in the show a second time, sometimes once can be enough.

However, when it was announced that original London star Janet McTeer would be reprising her role of Veronica (Veronique in the French-set London production), I was suddenly interested in a revisit. I’d fallen in love with this imperious talent during her acclaimed run of Mary Stuart opposite the estimable Harriet Walter last season, and am willing to hear her read the phone book. I had rumors that she was coming into the NY production, and was curious to see what her performance was like. McTeer was preferred by many friends who saw both the original London and Broadway companies. I was also intrigued at how she would fit into this Americanized version of Reza’s play. Rounding out the company was Dylan Baker as Alan, Lucy Liu as his wife Annette and Jeff Daniels (the production’s original Alan) as Veronica’s husband Michael (originally played by James Gandolfini).

Watching the play this time around, I was most taken with how playwright Reza keeps the actors (mainly Alan and Annette) in the living room for the play’s 90 minutes. This is especially more of a challenge as the play progresses, rum is served and verbal and physical assaults ensue. The couples have gathered because their sons were involved in a playground scuffle and hope to settle the incident in a civil manner, avoiding law suits and insurance claims.

McTeer dominates the stage. She is a natural presence; a living, breathing creature who unravels in front of her husband, two strangers and the entire house at the Jacobs Theatre. Her performance is simply tremendous, and I will admit a slight preference over Harden’s (whom I loved). She is so fascinating to watch in performance, it’s almost impossible to take your eyes away from her. I’ve rarely seen an actress who can be simultaneously gut-busting hilarious and tragic, and on top of it, McTeer makes it look so effortless.

Liu is making an auspicious Broadway debut as Annette; it was a delight watching her progress from an apologetic, sickly simp to a drunken Martha-in-training. Hers was the most surprising and unexpected performance, and I only hope she considers frequenting the NY theatre scene more often. She is especially memorable in her drunken monologue where she discovers her long-dormant confidence and unleashes her fury with $80 worth of imported tulips (seated in the front row, we got splashed – Kari even got a glass stone in her lap!).

Onto the men – Alan is a tailor made role for Baker: stringent, bored, clearly inconvenienced to be dealing with Michael and Veronica, as well as his own wife. Jeff Daniels was another curiosity – having played Alan so successfully, how would he transition into the other role? Quite brilliantly. It’s a testament to his versatility as an actor he can portray the two antithetical leading men in the same production without so much as blinking an eye. There is nothing in his Michael that even remotely suggests his disconnected, sardonic performance as Alan.

Putting all four together in that savagely blood red living room, it becomes something of a volatile game of doubles tennis. The two couples are innately juxtaposed, but things get interesting as allegiances shift among the quartet, exposing unpleasant truths about both marriages – which only provides more ammunition for the onslaught. Nothing amuses me more than watching characters shattering false illusions about themselves while completely falling from grace (and it is Veronica who has the farthest to fall, as she grasps onto notions of morality and humanity dismissed by the other three).

The play is still fiercely funny from start to finish, much of that credit is due to Tony-winning director Matthew Warchus (who hit two home runs last season with Carnage and, more impressively, the revival of The Norman Conquests). If you haven’t seen the play, yet, by all means, run! If you have, rest assured that the production is in excellent hands and worthy of a second glance.

Walking Among My Yesterdays… "Carousel"

I was first exposed to Carousel through its 1956 film adaptation back in middle school. I was on a major Rodgers and Hammerstein kick from having seen the special Rodgers & Hammerstein: The Sound of Movies, a two hour retrospective on A&E hosted by Shirley Jones. I liked the film well enough, but truth be told I’ve only seen it once in the last ten years since I did the show at my high school. Reading the stage libretto and hearing the entire stage score and orchestrations throughout the rehearsal and performance periods, I realized that the show was darker, more substantial and ultimately more effective in its stage incarnation.
We felt inordinately proud of our production. As a cast we were very much aware of the show’s legacy and the difficulties in performing the material (especially in a high school setting). It marked the second time I ever appeared onstage in a musical. I was a sailor in the first act and Enoch Snow, Jr in the second. Even though I had really wanted to be Enoch Sr. (I sang “Geraniums in the Winder” for my audition… anyone? anyone?), I took a great deal of pride in what I did onstage in this show. It was the one and only time I completely costumed my own character, without any assistance (borrowing heavily from my father’s wardrobe).
Even after performing the show, I had never seen Carousel from an audience perspective.  I pounced on the news that there would be a concert at Carnegie Hall starring Hugh Jackman in his New York musical theater debut. The concert was months and months away, almost a year if I recall it correctly, so I kept on the lookout for ticket information. When it came time for tickets to go on sale, I set my alarm and spent about an hour on the phone getting busy signals from the Carnegie Hall box office. Eventually I got through and got the seats. The concert was June 6, 2002 and it was my first time inside the legendary venue.
The day of the concert, I got up and the skies were cloudy and threatening. As soon as I left the house, a downpour like none other started to fall and didn’t let up until the next day. Two high school friends (also in the show, one was our Nettie, the other our Heavenly Friend) went with me and we enjoyed an adventurous – if wet – day in Manhattan. I stopped at the Virgin Megastore, as per my old custom, and picked up a few cast recordings. We then dined at the TGIFridays in Times Square before we made the trek up to Carnegie Hall.

Now if we had been functioning like real adults instead of fresh-faced college kids, we would have taken the subway and/or been fully prepared for the inclement weather. But no, so we walked and walked in the rain – and in what was a first, I walked directly into the side of a moving cab. Amazingly enough, I wasn’t hurt. But oh, did we laugh.

Settling into our seats, the house was buzz with excitement. Carousel was last seen in NY in the acclaimed Tony-winning 1994 revival at Lincoln Center. The cast they had gathered together with Jackman was nothing short of exceptional. Audra McDonald, who won her first Tony as Carrie in the previous revival, was moving into the role of Julie. Lauren Ward was Carrie, Jason Danieley was Enoch, Norbert Leo Butz was Jigger, Judy Kaye played Nettie. But it didn’t stop there: Blythe Danner was Mrs. Mullin, Philip Bosco was the Starkeeper and original Billy Bigelow John Raitt made a brief appearance to introduce the concert; his entrance brought down the house with a lengthy ovation.

Directed by Walter Bobbie, the conceit of the evening was to really showcase the music and lyrics of Richard Rodgers, as well as the orchestrations of Don Walker and dance arrangements of the brilliant Trude Rittmann. Bobbie and John Weidman adapted the book for concert, similar to Encores!, only it was even more spare than anything you find at City Center. There was absolutely no scenery, and very subtle but effective costume coordination by John Lee Beatty. Leonard Slatkin directed the Orchestra of St. Luke’s and the principals were assisted by the Concert Chorale of New York.

I doubt you could ask for more perfect casting, particularly in the two leads. With McDonald and Jackman, the chemistry was palpable and the famed bench scene was not only superbly sung and acted, it was also incredibly sexy. When the two kissed at the end of it, the audience burst into spontaneous applause. McDonald’s crystalline soprano was perfect for Julie, with heavenly renditions of “If I Loved You” and “What’s the Use of Wond’rin’.” The two leads were ably supported by the others, particularly Kaye, who was and is ideal casting as Cousin Nettie, who brought a great sense of fun to “June is Bustin’ Out All Over” and a stirring warmth to “You’ll Never Walk Alone.”

The evening, though, belonged to Jackman. He was more than ideal, and was probably as close to perfection as one could get for the part. At the time, he was only starting to make a name for himself in Hollywood but had previously scored raves for his portrayal of Curly in Susan Stroman and Trevor Nunn’s West End reincarnation of Oklahoma!

His “Soliloquy” was so impassioned, so thrilling, it brought sporadic bursts of applause mid-song. A year and a half later he would carry The Boy From Oz in one of the great male star turns in recent memory. But his Tony-winning performance as Peter Allen pales in comparison. He sang the role with gusto, and delved deeply into Billy’s psychology, giving a performance that was ready for a Broadway opening. There was talk of him starring in a second film version of the property. I don’t know if that is still in the cards, but it would be wondrous to have the star revisit the property, especially for those who weren’t lucky enough to be there that night. It was one of the greatest musical theatre performances I’ve ever seen in my life.

The finale brought the sold out house at Carnegie Hall to its feet almost instantly, in a warm ovation. That ovation increased as Mr. Raitt returned to the stage where he proceeded to embrace Jackman, in a spontaneous display of mutual admiration. Though Mr. Raitt didn’t sing a note that evening, just his mere presence made the evening that more perfect. I don’t know for certain but I believe it was one of his last public appearances in NY.

My friends and I hoped that there would be a recording of the evening, and were so generous in starting applause that we wondered if we’d be able to hear ourselves if there was one. But unfortunately, the powers that be hadn’t the foresight to consider such an enterprise. Three years later when they presented South Pacific in concert, they made it available on CD and DVD and even aired the presentation on PBS. I’d like to think this was in part to missing the boat the first time around. For as much fun as that South Pacific concert was – it wasn’t nearly as special nor as memorable as Carousel.

Numerous albums of Carousel have been made throughout the years, but there is no complete recording of the score, in its original orchestration and with all of Trude Rittman’s brilliant dance arrangements intact. Even when we performed the show, the musical directors made some splices and edits within the dance music of the score: which includes a rarely performed “Hornpipe” for the sailors in the first act, as well as the famed twelve minute ballet in the second. There have been recordings of South Pacific, The King and I and even the recent studio recording of Allegro which give us the score in its entirety. I would like to think that Rodgers and Hammerstein’s greatest score might be given its due sooner rather than later.

The rain was still coming down in torrents when we left Carnegie. We had even considered stagedooring it (with mostly soccer moms in attendance, a precursor to what was to come during his Broadway runs), but we were informed by one of the stage door attendants that the cast was going to be sitting down to dinner before emerging. We decided the show had already been enough and walked through the rain all the way down to Grand Central (why none us thought about taking the subway or a taxi, I’ll never know) but we maintain great memories of that experience, and I for one couldn’t get that score of my head for days, as I nursed my inevitable cold. But dammit, it was worth it!

A Trip to the Library

Over the past couple of weeks I have been going through the house and sorting out the debris of my life. There are a lot of memories ensconced within my three rooms, and felt the need to organize it. While shuffling through some papers and sheet music, a CD fell out from the pile. It was the second cast album of Kiss of the Spider Woman with Vanessa William, Brian Stokes Mitchell and Howard McGillin. I had borrowed it from the local library about five or six years ago and had lost it. The thing was, I had gone back to college and someone else in the family was going to return it for me. Well, that didn’t happen and I ended up paying $20 for it, in spite of the fact it was nowhere to be found.

Anyway, I was so surprised to see this and decided that I should return it. I checked the library system online and they had even removed its listing. In the years since, I had acquired a cheap copy of the recording for myself and felt it would be better served back in their catalog. Suddenly I got excited at the idea of going to the library. I hadn’t used it in a long time since I spent so much time working at Barnes and Noble, and really didn’t need. I have a lot of books and was able to borrow hardcovers from the store.

I’m an unabashed book nerd; I was legitimately excited by the prospect of using the library again. So here I was back in the building and after filling out the necessary paperwork, I had a brand new library card (my old one was lost somewhere… three days after this trip during more sorting and organization that also fell out of a pile). I felt it most necessary to inaugurate the card while I was there. I went up to the theatre arts section on the second floor, where I made frequent trips during high school and embarked on my musical theatre studies.

I checked out two books: Rodgers and Hammerstein by Ethan Mordden and Mainly on Directing by Arthur Laurents.

The former is one I’ve read cover to cover several times; I am tempted to pick up my own copy. It’s a coffee table sized book which has the added bonus of generous history and criticism of the entire R&H canon. There are copious amounts of photographs, both color and black & white interspersed throughout. Captions abound. I don’t necessarily agree with Mordden on some of his theories, but I do find it fun to read what he has to say about every work from Oklahoma! to The Sound of Music, including comments on their film and television projects. For some reason the book is out of print, but there are used copies available on amazon, and it is one to remember.

Laurents’ book focuses on his career as a director. The first chapter is devoted to his immense dislike for the 2003 revival of Gypsy starring Bernadette Peters. The star emerges unscathed, but there are very few kind words for director Sam Mendes. The majority of the book is devoted to his direction of the Patti LuPone Gypsy reviewing the course of the show from the City Center to Broadway. The general feeling I get as I read is that Laurents feels he’s the only one can direct any of the works he has written. He takes the usual swipes at Merman and Robbins, for whom he had little love in his memoir Original Story By. But this time there are a couple of pointed digs at Sondheim as well. The writer-director also talks La Cage Aux Folles (and again, no love lost on the revival) and his dislike of drag and how he came to rediscover West Side Story He also claims it to be about love; the book came as a tribute to his late partner, Tom Hatcher. However, the only love to be found in the text, which makes for an interesting read, is for Hatcher.

So I’m off to a solid start; there are a lot of theatre books I want to reread and others which I have yet to pick up. Mordden’s series on musical theatre decade by decade, William Goldman’s The Season, among others. But first? I assuage my ladies of the DLS/HWS with a quartet of Dorothy L. Sayers books.

Any suggestions as to what I should read…?

"Like Shiloh and Valley Forge…"


The sublime revival of South Pacific is poised to end its run at the Vivian Beaumont after a monumental 1,000 performances this August. I’ve seen the show twice; once on its opening night and the other on the night Barack Obama was elected our President. The production is a personal favorite of mine, and I hope to make another trip back before it ends.

The musical is based on the collection of short stories by James A. Michener, and there are two simple references to the original text. They are quotations which bookend the book’s introductory chapter which are projected onto white scrim; one before the overture, the other after the curtain call.

We have had an old mass market paperback edition of Tales of the South Pacific lying around the house for years. I got it in elementary school, but I didn’t read it until 2005, a result of seeing the concert at Carnegie Hall. It’s a collection of tangentially related short stories all revolving around Operation Alligator, a fictive military operation which took the restless Seabees and sailors out of their restless waiting and into the heart of the Pacific theatre of WWII. I couldn’t put the book down, I was fascinated – as I always have been and always be – with the history of the Second World War.

I can’t say that I grew up as a military brat, as my father (a Marine, once and always) left the military more than 20 years before I was born, but there was an immense amount of military influence in my childhood. Many family friends were veterans of WWII, the Korean Conflict and Vietnam. So I have spent much of this time talking with them about their experiences, and have an immense appreciation for the sacrifices they have made and difficulties they have gone through for our benefit.

This past week marked the 65th anniversary of the famous flag-raising on Iwo Jima. Some of my time this past week was spent helping my father get ready to go halfway across the world. He is currently on a military tour with other veterans who are meeting in Guam. They will be visiting Iwo Jima for a ceremony honoring the loss of both US and Japanese life during that bloody battle.

On an entirely different note, I am seeing the new musical Yank! at the York Theatre on Saturday, so there’s been a lot of WWII on my mind lately. I have seen practically every film about it, read numerous books – both fiction and non-fiction, and have seen countless documentaries about it. It’s been something I’ve been aware of ever since I can remember and my fascination continues.

It was the Michener quote at the end of South Pacific that I recall today. I didn’t expect it, nor did I expect to be as moved as I was by it:

“They will live a long time, these men of the South Pacific. They had an American quality. They, like their victories, will be remembered as long as our generation lives. After that, like the men of the Confederacy, they will become strangers. Longer and longer shadows will obscure them, until their Guadalcanal sounds distant on the ear like Shiloh and Valley Forge.”

-James A. Michener, Tales of the South Pacific

The Liz Ashley


One of the most memorable moments from the opening night performance of Superior Donuts occurred prior to the actual show. I was at Angus having drinks with Steve, his partner Doug and Gil of Broadway Abridged, when on our way out we encountered upon the estimable Elizabeth Ashley. The actress was seated quite casually, drink in one hand, cigarette in the other and in a moment of pure nerve I decided to speak with her. Our conversation lasted five minutes, but it was one of most cordial, invigorating exchanges I have ever experienced with an actor.

A couple weeks ago, SarahB gifted me a copy of Ashley’s long out of print memoir Actress: Postcards from the Road, that she had found while out shopping in Texas. There were certain things I knew of Ashley – her Tony win and shoot to fame with Take Her She’s Mine, having Barefoot in the Park written specifically for her by Neil Simon and of her marriage to actor George Peppard. But – and this shouldn’t be as surprising as it was, but it is – there was a lot about the legend that I did not know. This book offered unusual candor in talking about the acting world of the 60s and 70s, and also regarding the struggles and challenges of being an artist of the theatre.

She doesn’t consider herself to be much of a writer, but with the help of Ross Firestone, she told her stories and he magnificently captures her voice in the text. The book is rather episodic and conversational – she establishes who she is and what she’s doing in her brief introduction. In the book she’s not going to separate her public and private persona and vows to be blunt:

“I know one thing for sure: You can tell an American the truth about anything and if you are really straight you are probably in for a terrific conversation. You may not get agreement, but you will almost certainly have a good, hot, rich exchange. Curiosity, compassion, and imagination are the most consistent spiritual characteristics I have found in the American psyche. This book is not an autobiography. It is about how I found my ticket to ride…”

She starts off with a breakdown during the run of Barefoot in the Park, where she felt she wasn’t good enough and sensed that everyone, especially co-star Robert Redford was aware of it. Highs and lows are traversed – the betrayal of her confidence by Sydney Pollack that cost her the lead in The Slender Thread, her volatile marriage to alcoholic Peppard, for which she gave up her acting career, the birth of their son, Christian, who really gave her the first real sense of identity she’d ever known. She left Peppard when alcohol started dictating violence and jealousy, culminating in an episode where she had to place a gun at the back of his skull to get Christian out of his drunken clutches.

She had given up on her career after turning down the film version of Barefoot in the Park and needed to work from the bottom up to get back into shape as both a performer and a professional. This involved one-shot appearances on minor television shows and appearances in movies of the week; anything to get her back into shape and so she could earn her stripes. In one episode of Mission: Impossible, she challenged herself to work as hard as possible on a climactic scene, and the director saw the effort she was making and why she was making it and it really clicked. Her comeback was fully realized in her highly acclaimed turn as Maggie the Cat in the revival of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof that opened in Stratford, Connecticut, moved to Broadway and became the hottest ticket in town.

However interesting her acting career, it is always the personal information that is the most fascinating; alternately amusing or harrowing. On the former path, she relays with considerable non chalance an affair with screenwriter Thomas McGuane. She and McGuane dallied for quite some time – with the full approval of McGuane’s wife who became one of Liz’s good friends. The three of them, taking sexual liberation by the horns and exercising their free love thought they had established the great sexual utopian experiment. Though she doesn’t mention her by name, merely a polite but terse “star-lette,” she mentions how Margot Kidder came along, snatched up McGuane ending his relationship with both his wife and Ashley.

The harrowing – and one of the most personal stories she relays was a recollection of her first pregnancy, with actor James Farentino (also her first husband) in the early sixties. She was about to go into Take Her, She’s Mine when she discovered she was unmarried and pregnant. She recounts with grim precision the abortion she had, up to and including her need for hospitalization afterward. It’s a devastating, chilling account of what things were like in our not so distant society. And she does not hold back.

Ashley takes is a no-nonsense, Southern gal: she suffers no fools but it brutally honest about herself and the events in her life. There is no glossing over her insecurities – from acting school, to the dismissal she received from her peers from the success of her first Broadway play (seen as commercial and not art). There is no stone which she leaves unturned in talking about her chosen profession, or the work she’s had to do and speaks of her successes and failures with considerable nonchalance.

She doesn’t delve very deeply into her childhood or her family life – just glimpses here and there of an impoverished upbringing, her lack of education, etc. The book is more a window into her life as a reflection of her career; all the more interesting since she wrote this in 1978. Her career has continued steadily, becoming one of the prime interpreters of her friend Tennessee Williams’ plays and taking Broadway by storm last year in Dividing the Estate and August: Osage County.

I had great respect for Ms. Ashley prior to reading her book, but now that respect has grown tenfold and I hope she might consider a follow-up. These last thirty years must have given this salt of the earth actress many more tales to tell. And I sure as hell would love to read about them.