My only comment about the Bret Michaels debacle is that right after he was hit in the noggin by the set piece, a Tony nominated actor was standing backstage waiting to go on and one of the head crew guys said to him, “That’s what happens when you don’t come to rehearsal.”
– Seth Rudetsky, in this week’s Onstage & Backstage
The show lasted seven performances in New York in 1971, but The Grass Harp has developed a cult following among musical theatre aficionados thanks to its sublime cast album. The musical, based on Truman Capote’s novel, had music by Claibe Richardson and book and lyrics by Kenward Elmslie. It marked Barbara Cook’s final appearance (to date) in a book musical on Broadway. The show also featured Karen Morrow, one of Broadway’s greatest belters, whose dynamite 15 minute “The Babylove Miracle Show” stopped the show. Carol Brice, Russ Thacker (Walter Bobbie his standby), Max Showalter and Ruth Ford rounded out the principals.
Critics weren’t very kind and the advance wasn’t enough so the show shuttered quickly. Several years later the cast album came out which (as is the case with many flop musicals) has kept the piece alive. It was also the final Broadway musical to have an entirely acoustic sound. But with such powerhouses like Barbara Cook, Karen Morrow (who Jerry Herman has said can sing the hell out of anything) and opera singer Carol Brice, who needs a mike?
Do yourself a favor and get your hands on this lovely score. Barbara Cook’s “Chain of Love” is achingly beautiful and worth the price of the album alone.
From US OperaWeb’s 2002 piece “Kenward Elmslie’s World,” Elmslie looks back on some memories of the show:
I Remember first meeting Truman Capote in Boston. A play of his based on his novella, The Grass Harp, was trying out pre-Broadway. I was with my significant other/mentor John Latouche, whose lyrics I idolized. Truman’s high-pitched, nasal voice and weirdo effeminacy terrified me. He complained vociferously about Cecil Beaton’s tree, which upstaged the performers and sabotaged his play.
I Remember working with Claibe Richardson, composer, on a musical adapted from The Madwoman of Chaillot; Richard Barr, producer; star, Lotte Lenya. Only it turned out we didn’t have the ‘rights.’ Several years work down the drain.
I Remember suggesting The Grass Harp, Truman’s novella (not his play) as a project to get us going again. I remember tackling some songs to see if it was right for us. It was. So we played them for Truman. He loved what we had done, counseled us to make it our own and gave us the rights, no hitch.
I Remember its first production, Trinity Square, Providence. My survival mantra I owe to the poet Frank O’Hara: Go on nerve and don’t look back. Ah. Opening night’s a marathon disaster, three-and-a-half hours long. The critics panned the daylights out of our fledgling. Elaine Stritch, a crowd-pleaser as Babylove, was consistently crocked and nightly gave Claibe near-heart failure – erratic tempi and pitch.
I Remember Kermit Bloomgarten, the prestigious Broadway producer, optioned our musical for Broadway. But to raise the huge sum of $250,000 (in 1971 – peanuts compared to now) he needed a star. I remember Claibe on piano. We shared the vocals, got to audition for Gwen Verdon and Julie Harris. An incredible pleasure after backers’ auditions — solemn guys in business suits, a no response situation. If they reacted positively the property might prove pricey. I remember going to Brazil with Claibe to nab a star. We tracked down Mary Martin at her isolated finca. She turned us down charmingly. Show-biz shrewd, she knew she needed to play both Dollyheart and Babylove to fulfill her fans’ expectations.
I Remember Ann Arbor where The Grass Harp tried out, pre-Broadway, in a theater so brand-new, flies secreted in cinder blocks, kamakazi-style, dive-bombed open singers’ mouths, which made singing extremely hazardous. The Detroit critics panned the living daylights out of our perennial fledgling. Richard Barr gallantly refused to close the show out of town.
I Remember the first matinee at the Martin Beck Theater, post-New York Times mixed notice. Small audience. Inhibited, cowed response. A dire contrast to the week of previews when audience response kept building. I remember Truman’s fixed advice: ‘Mike it.’ The Grass Harp was surely the last unamplified musical to hit Broadway. I remember the final performance, the seventh. The audience went wild. Laughs, showstopper after showstopper, endless bravos and curtain calls.
I Remember a recording studio in Cologne, Germany. Claibe and I were early. Our mission: bring back orchestral tracks for an original cast album. Only the harpist was there, hailed from Alabama. She had once played for Barbara Cook in a Broadway pit. I remember hours went by and the assembled orchestra – willowy violinists from the Cologne Philharmonic, protean Afro-American jazz guys – this group wasn’t together – when Karen Morrow, who’d played Babylove in the Broadway show and wanted to spend Thanksgiving in Europe with Claibe and me, stepped to the mike and did Babylove proud. Galvanized, the orchestra kicked in and we finished three days of sessions in the nick of…
I Remember bringing back our Grass Harp tapes. U.S. Customs: ‘Anything of value to declare?’ ‘Heck no. Just some dumb old reel-to-reels.’
I Remember we assembled the cast in a dinky New York City studio. The engineers weren’t used to ‘real’ voices – Carol Brice, Barbara Cook. They took away their booster gizmos. I remember when the album came out, listeners, including some critics, couldn’t figure out why on earth the show had flopped on Broadway.
I Remember attending a revival at a college in Manhattan. To my dismay sitting next to me was John Simon, acerb New York drama critic. The enemy! He nudged me mid-song, ‘If There’s Love Enough.’ ‘Great song,’ he whispered.
I Remember the director of a book-in-hand production at the York Theater, New York City, asking me if I had any old, unrevised scripts tucked away. He found the published acting version lacking. I dug through a morass of scripts and to my horror I realized that I had cut, cut, cut the dialogue mercilessly. The book is always the culprit when musicals fail. Everybody liked our songs. Go with the songs. I put back whole pages of dialogue, wantonly savaged. A show reborn. A fresh start.
“It’s the role of a lifetime. It’s the best written role for a woman over 40 with the possible exception of Mama Rose. Desiree in A Little Night Music is up there too, but Desiree doesn’t carry around the same kind of baggage with all that passive-aggressive Southern charm and complexity. I would say that all three women have spent the majority of their adult lives running away, and come face to face with their destiny, their reason to stop running. All three are terribly vibrant, funny, and flawed beyond belief. That is my favorite thing about them. Their imperfection.”
– Victoria Clark, in an interview with BroadwayWorld, discussing Margaret Johnson of The Light in the Piazza fame
“Some people get antagonized by the truth.”
That is one of the many truth-bombs dropped at a fateful, disastrous dinner at the Weston house by matriarch Violet. You see, Violet is angry. She has cancer of the mouth, a volatile marriage, residual issues that stem from her problems with her mother, and a penchant for painkillers – any and all. Well the truth is, the play is still one of the most galvanizing theatrical experiences on Broadway, whose volatility remains unmatched by anything that has opened since.
August: Osage County, last year’s enormous Pulitzer and Tony-winning success is still playing at the Music Box Theatre and a new mama has joined the company. To put it mildly, she will cut you. Tony-winner Phylicia Rashad seemed an unlikely choice to fill shoes occupied by Tony-winner Deanna Dunagan and her stellar replacement Estelle Parsons. There were people who felt that there were too many racial undertones in the character for an actress of color to play the part. However, to those naysayers, I offer a polite “phooey.” (Spoiler alert pending in the next paragraph).
From the moment Rashad stumbles down the stairs in a drug-addled stupor and viciously turns on John Cullum, any and all preconceived ideas about her casting are erased from memory. (*Spoiler alert* For the first time, I thought “So this is why he killed himself” *End Spoiler*). This play does offer the character the opportunity to voice some politically incorrect comments about “Indians,” but color is innocuous here. Phylicia Rashad is once again playing an earth mother, but an earth mother who has experienced torment and disappointment in her life and is unafraid to express it or take out her rage on her family. Fact of the matter: the actress is nothing short of revelatory.
Rashad marks the fourth Violet I’ve seen. I took in Dunagan twice, her opening night and final performance; Parsons I saw twice and on one occasion earlier this year saw the capable understudy Susanne Marley, whose performance is molded on Dunagan’s. Each actress has brought something different to the part. Dunagan was selfish, clingy and ultimately childish under a bitingly caustic veneer. Parsons was stronger with a passive aggressive approach to her attacks, with a final breakdown of considerable pathos.
Now revitalizing the production at the Music Box (the understudy performance was strong, but not the special event the show is intended to be), is Rashad, also the first actor in the production to receive above the title billing. The last time I saw her onstage was in the 2008 revival of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. While enjoyable, her performance was more caricature than character and in that I found my worries regarding August.
Let it be said, there is nothing to fear here. Rashad’s Violet is angry, but she is also no nonsense, with eyes of frigid sobriety defying her lucid state of mind. Rashad brings great emotional wealth to the character in the first act, where I heard and understood lines for the first time. There are times when you might even feel sorry for her. Then you get to the climactic second act, where she proceeds to eviscerate everyone in sight. It is here that Violet’s rage comes to a boiling point. She may be loaded on her painkillers, but her character knows exactly what she’s doing. She is simultaneously taking out her aggression on those people readily available while masochistically setting herself up for a violent confrontation.
I was seated on the left center aisle for this entire scene and had a beautifully uncompromising view of Rashad’s face for the duration of the twenty minute scene. The actress spoke volumes with her steely eyes, and in her anger she was unpredictable and at times downright frightening. A sideways glance from her Violet is enough to wither anyone into cowering silence, with one notable exception. (More on her later). Hers is a performance to be reckoned with, and has brought a new invigorating dynamic to the cast, keeping the entire ensemble on their toes. You couldn’t ask for better theatre.
Elizabeth Ashley has put away her walker from Dividing the Estate and donned a gaudy wig to play Violet’s sister, Mattie Fae. Larger than life, Ashley’s Mattie Fae is closer in form to originator Rondi Reed’s characterization and is a vast improvement on previous replacement Molly Regan. She brings gauche earthiness and Southern sensibility to the part and as a result, Mattie is once again a colorful, crowd pleasing favorite. Though her performance is brushed with broader strokes than her predecessors, she still garners the audience’s sympathy in her grounded last scene.
John Cullum offers the best portrayal of Beverly Weston since the late Dennis Letts, with a folk-like whimsy undercut by resigned melancholy. Anne Berkowitz is Jean and is the most true to life teen I’ve seen in the role. Brian Kerwin is the only original cast member to stay with the production all the way through, playing Steve with the same combination of cockiness and sleaze.
Lots of original cast members have returned. Kimberley Guerrero is still playing Johnna, the Native American hired by Beverly to look after Violet and is a quiet source of comfort and solace for the family. Mariann Mayberry and Sally Murphy also returned as Violet’s two other daughters. Mayberry is still hilarious and devastating as the insecure youngest Karen, though she’s given up her bit with the olives. When she defiantly tells Barbara she’s going to Belize, it is nothing short of heartbreaking.
Murphy; however, needs to be reigned in. Her performance as Ivy has gone so wildly over the top that she switches between two levels: calm deadpan and incoherent high-pitched screeching. Whenever her emotions are vaulted, her voice jumps an octave and lines are lost. It’s glaringly inappropriate especially when juxtaposed with the more nuanced work of her scene partners.
Also returning to the cast is Amy Morton, whose titanic performance as eldest daughter Barbara, clearly her mother’s daughter is once again the emotional anchor of the piece. Finding herself in a failing marriage, handling her rebellious teen daughter while unsuccessfully trying to hold her family together, Morton is still giving the production’s most profound characterization. From her entrance to her exit, Morton is a fully-dimensional force of nature, ready to attack both her unfaithful husband and mother, but also herself. When Morton goes head to head with Rashad, it is as close to onstage fireworks as one is likely to find. (The only other onstage confrontation that comes close are the leading ladies of Mary Stuart). Her second act curtain line is still a shocking, earth shattering war cry that must be experienced live to be fully appreciated.
Morton’s is the sort of performance that comes along so rarely. So palpably honest, the line between acting and reality become forever blurred. Actors of the Golden Age rave about their memories of Laurette Taylor in The Glass Menagerie; I offer Amy Morton in August: Osage County.
Rashad is contracted through August 23. Unfortunately, it looks as if she can’t extend due to her commitment to the London engagement of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof this fall. First timers will be floored by the experience as the staging is still taut and high octane; repeat viewers (this was my sixth time seeing the play, remember) will be more than pleased at the shape the play is in. The cast still functions as an organic ensemble, with the relationships between the veterans and newcomer Rashad so functionally dysfunctional, you’d think she originated the part.
The play is still one of the most hilarious and one of the most gutwrenching dramatic experiences onstage in NY. Chances are I will most likely return a seventh time. Rashad and Morton are worth it.
I’ve noticed that a lot of people have come to the website by searching for Alice Ripley’s eccentric acceptance speech from the Tonys (with such engine entries as “Alice Ripley Crazy” and “Alice Ripley Crazy Town Speech”). So here it is!
While Sunday night was a night to celebrate the Tonys, Tuesday night was business as usual as shows came back from their day off of basking in awards afterglow. Reasons to be Pretty and Guys and Dolls were the first casualties of the season; winning no awards and struggling at the box office, the producers of both shows are calling it quits this coming Sunday. (If you haven’t, it’s your last chance for the superb Reasons).
Continuing our annual tradition, Sarah, Roxie, Noah and I took in our post-Tony show, this time switching our allegiance from lead actress and featured actress in a musical (good call, both Ripley and Olivo were out sick!) to featured actress in a play for the resplendent Angela Lansbury in Blithe Spirit. I was there on its opening night back on March 15 and as I reported then, it is a first-rate revival of Coward’s classic comedy. The good news? The production is even sharper and better than ever.
Jayne Atkinson, in a leading performance that was so woefully and inexplicably overlooked by the Tony committee, continues to bring incredible nuance and humor to sensible Ruth, the put-upon second wife. Rupert Everett is a bit more spontaneous in his line readings than I recall; Ebersole is Ebersole as Elvira, with an accent of undetermined origin and consistency. Meanwhile, in the smallest of roles, Susan Louise O’Connor continues to provide score comic highs as the dithering maid Edith while Simon Jones and Deborah Rush continue to make characters out of caricatures as the Bradmans.
Now onto the bad news: this revival is a strictly limited engagement that ends on July 19. If you haven’t seen the production, first and foremost I must ask you “Why not?” You are missing out on one of the definitive stage legends of our time delivering a most memorable (and did I mention Tony-winning) turn as the eccentric Madame Arcati. Lansbury astounds in a warm, kinetic performance continuing to grow in the part as the run progresses. Her spontaneity and interpretative dances continue to charm the audience into gales of uncontrollable laughter. Both the performance and the Tony win are latest triumphs of a career that is 65 years and counting.
Though the revival itself was overlooked in that particular category by the Tony people, the production remains the champagne toast to the Broadway season, with wit, guile and a considerable sense of style. To miss this once in a lifetime opportunity is, in my mind, unthinkable.
Both pre-show and post-show were spent at our beloved Angus McIndoe’s, where I pleaded for french fries with such intensity that I’m still not sure if I amused or alarmed our waitress. Oh – and I almost forgot to mention that I met the gorgeous and lovely Megan Hilty in Shubert Alley, on her way home from 9 to 5. She couldn’t be anymore gracious and down to earth, introducing herself to each of us and engaging in a brief chat. I look forward to seeing the young star in 9 to 5.
After the show we waited around for Ms. Lansbury to emerge from the Shubert Theatre. After quite some time, the icon came out on the arm of her producer, Jeffrey Richards, looking the epitome of elegance and class. Instead of asking for autographs or taking pictures, the few of us standing there on the sidewalk merely broke out into applause. We were rewarded with a warm wave of affection as the star blew us a kiss before heading off into the evening.
Bluegobo has returned! They may not have the Ed Sullivan clips, but there is still a lot to enjoy at the website. To celebrate here’s a clip:
Before Allison Janney started singing a song of the same name in the current 9 to 5, Lauren Bacall delivered “One of the Boys” in Woman of the Year, winning a second Tony in this then-contemporary updating of the Tracy-Hepburn classic. Not the strongest of book shows, it sports a fun musical comedy score from Kander and Ebb, which has been out of print on CD for years (Arkiv Music, get on it!). Perhaps it’s time for Encores! to give us another NY production, starring the aforementioned Janney or maybe one of our regular musical leading ladies like Donna Murphy.
Here is Bacall and the boys delivering the crowd pleaser on the Tony telecast in 1981.
In what is quite possibly the most ambitious medley ever attempted at the Tonys, this is the 1986 tribute to Forty Years of Broadway Show Music. These musical segments were interspersed through the awards and presentations by current plays and musicals, bringing some of musical theatre’s finest out to sing the hell out of a lot of showtunes. (There is Lily Tomlin’s Best Actress in a Play speech tossed in here for fun).
The cast: Dorothy Loudon, David Wayne, Helen Hayes, Bea Arthur, Susan Anton, Ann Reinking, Sandy Duncan, Hal Linden, Cleo Laine, Rex Smith, Tom Wopat, Bernadette Peters, Juliet Prowse, Jose Ferrer, Stefanie Powers, Nell Carter, Lee Remick, Leslie Uggams, Jack Lemmon, Chita Rivera, Debbie Allen, Karen Morrow, Ben Vereen, Alfonso Ribeiro, John Rubinstein, Lee Roy Reams. (I think that’s everyone).
A mere five years following the unsuccessful revival of La Cage Aux Folles, it’s been announced by Norman Conquests producer Sonia Friedman that the current hit West End revival will transfer to Broadway in March 2010. The current production originated at the Menier Chocolate Factory and is currently in the midst of a hit West End engagement with Roger Allam and Philip Quast. TV and stage star John Barrowman is to step into the role of Albin this fall.
The recent revival played the Marriott Marquis for seven months, winning the Best Musical Revival Tony as producers simultaneously posted the closing notice. The production is probably best remembered for its highly publicized firing of star Daniel Davis as Georges halfway through the run. Robert Goulet, in his final Broadway appearance, was brought into the production, but his presence did very little to improve the show’s box office intake. Gary Beach was Albin, but seemed to be recreating his Roger De Bris rather than exploring that fascinating duality of the insecure, sensitive Albin with his assertive drag alter-ego Zaza.
Why is it coming back? Apparently this revival has a unique approach to the material that is unlike any other La Cage we’ve seen before. Friedman feels that there is enough appeal in this production to warrant a Broadway run. She is currently seeking a large playhouse or small musical house for the production and hopes to work out an arrangement with Actor’s Equity for Douglas Hodge, the original Olivier-winning Albin of the production to transfer. No other casting or details are available, but Friedman did meet with the show’s composer Jerry Herman the day of the Tonys to discuss details.
I’ll gladly see the show if it transfers, as it’s always been a crowdpleaser. However, this second revival in half a decade begs me to ask the Nederlander organization, where are the promised revivals of Hello, Dolly! and Mame that were to follow the last La Cage?
In the meanwhile: here’s the Tony-winning original George Hearn delivering “A Little More Mascara.” (The video quality is poor, his performance is outstanding).
