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The Bloggers Who Brunch

Well, gang, I’ve come to the end of what was a near perfect day. I make an attempt to never speak in superlatives, strange foible of mine, but oh well. Anyhow, I spent the majority of my day having new adventures (as Sarah would put it) with many new friends, most of whom I’ve encountered through starting my blog. Brunch commenced at Joe Allen’s, in what I would like to term our own version of the Algonquin Round Table (the password to join is “Marian. Marian Seldes.” But remember kids, it’s not what you say, it’s how you say it…). There I met Esther, Steve, Doug, Joe and Eric; all intense theatrephiles who reside out of town, and all of whom I admired and enjoyed instantly. Of course the days adventures would be incomplete without Kari, Sarah and Jimmy. While others traipsed off to matinees of some sort or other, I went hung out with Sarah for the afternoon, which of course involved Angela Lansbury and Prettybelle. Then in another first, I actually rode the city bus.

Some of us attended that evening’s performance of Encores! No, No Nanette which is probably the strongest production I’ve seen at the City Center. I had but one qualm with the entire effervescent evening: that it was over. The plot is shaky thin, but that’s what one expects from the pre-Show Boat musical comedies. The music (Vincent Youmans, with lyrics from Otto Harbach & Irving Caesar) is infectious, the choreography (Randy Skinner), direction (Walter Bobbie) and costumes (Gregg Barnes) were top notch.

Usually, the Encores! crowd presents the original version of the show at hand, but in an unusual turn of events, there are two available editions of this musical: the 1925 original and the even more successful 1971 revisal (by Burt Shevelove) that played two years (and featured Ruby Keeler in a triumphant return to Broadway after 41 years). For this production, the powers that be decided on the ’71 version of the show, and I have to confess I’m glad they did.

In reviving the show in 1971, the country was into what is being referred to as its nostalgia craze. They were reissuing the Busby Berkeley musicals, other musicals about the 1920s and 30s were being written. Plus given the context of the virulent 60s, it made sense that entertainment leaned toward the more innocent escapism of these earlier years. Berkeley was even initially hired to direct, but wasn’t well enough to handle the task (Shevelove took over direction, Berkeley retained credit as “Production supervised by”). Donald Saddler provided the choreography. Ralphs Burns charted the orchestrations (the twin pianos provided chills, I kid you not) and Luther Henderson created the dance music.

In this evening’s performance, everything was spot on. It was a celebration of the 20s, without becoming overly campy and most refreshingly without the di rigeur self-referential satiric edges that have become so commonplace in the musical comedies of the present decade. What also was so refreshing was the audience’s complete surrender to the show. Sandy Duncan is 62 years old, which incidentally is the same age as Ruby Keeler when she did it, and from the way she carried her two big showstopping dance numbers, you’d think she was a youthful chorine. We need her back on Broadway, and how. A dancer’s longevity is rare; exceptions like Donna McKechnie and Chita Rivera come to mind instantaneously. I would place Duncan up in that area. Perhaps, since her signature musical role comes second hand, she might not be considered as such. But, my God, she delivers, high-kicking, fan-tailing and limber with endless energy and effortlessness. It felt like the auditorium was going to come tumbling down around us as she led the sure-fire “Take a Little One Step” that precedes the finale. Kudos to Beth Leavel, who knows how to bring the hilarious, can move like the breeze and can sock it to the rafters. (“The Where-Has-My-Hubby-Gone Blues” was a definitive showstopper. So was her next line). Did anyone else notice the subtle wink she gave the audience when the ovation continued to roar? Michael Berresse is a good dancer. Alright, you got me, an understatement of the grossest sort! He made Skinner’s moves look effortless – he’s certainly a throwback to the Gene Kelly mode, no? The ever-reliable and affable Charles Kimbrough was the philandering Bible-salesman who’s habit of keeping secret women (all of whom he gives money to keep happy, but it’s seriously strictly platonic) leads to most of the conflicts. Mara Davi, a soubrette who deserves her own vehicle, was even better than I had anticipated. Shonn Wiley (who, incidentally, I also saw at the Westchester Broadway Theatre in Crazy For You in 2000 opposite his now-wife Meredith Patterson) had the thankless role of Tom, her beloved, relishing in the role of the square-cut, straight-laced type. Oh yes, and the maid. There’s always the wise-cracking maid. Here it was played the lover extraordinaire of all things Broadway, Rosie O’Donnell, providing laughs with her world-weariness, a showdown with a vacuum cleaner and even a brief tap solo towards the end of the show. I am thrilled to have seen the show, mostly because of its place as an early 20s hit. A show that most would scoff at under normal circumstances, but is the epitome of the type of musical theatre that should be celebrated by Encores!.

The show is strong enough that it could seriously transfer to Broadway. The polish and caliber for a mere 8 days of rehearsal is beyond the call of duty in concert situations like this. I didn’t even catch anyone really glancing at their concert prompt-binders either. I’m not sure if anyone would be interested in a transfer, but believe me, I wouldn’t mind seeing it again. And I’m sure most of those who saw it this weekend feel the same way. Post-show was spent at what is the post-City Center hangout, Seppi’s on 56th for some food and my usual white Russian. Not to mention “I Want to Be Happy” stuck in our heads. It should be criminal to have had as much fun as I did today. I look forward to the next time people come back into town.

The final line from Sandy Duncan’s bio: “And, contrary to urban myth, she does not have a glass eye.”

And now you know the rest of the story…

Musical Theatre Zen

Musical Theatre Zen is a term I use for those rare occasions that a musical number is so transportative and transcendent that the moment will forever burnish in my memory and bring myself and my soul to a place of extraordinary warmth, comfort and serenity. All is right with the world. I’ve felt it when I saw Barbara Cook sing “Ice Cream,” I felt it the first time I heard “Dividing Day” from The Light in the Piazza and on several other occasions. Here is one of those:

The Music: Jerome Kern
The Lyrics: Oscar Hammerstein II
The Orchestration: Robert Russell Bennett

The show was Very Warm For May, a flop musical comedy from 1939 that failed because Max Gordon disliked a farcical subplot involving a gangster chase sufficiently turning the musical into a summer stock affair similar to the smash hit Babes in Arms, which opened two years prior. Mixed reviews and audience indifference led to the show’s shuttering after 59 performances. Kern went to Hollywood, where he continued to work until his death. Hammerstein would eventually resurface in 1943 with Oklahoma! and Carmen Jones. In spite of its obscurity, the Kern-Hammerstein score was something special, as evidenced in the recordings of the original cast that have surfaced in recent years. The recording of the “song,” “All the Things You Are,” was featured on John McGlinn’s Broadway Showstoppers CD. In context, the song is presented as a double duet. One couple offstage is soliloquizing on the verse, alternating back and forth about their repressed feelings for the other (here voiced by Jeanne Lehman and Cris Groenandaal). At a certain point in the song, the couple onstage rehearsing are able to express what the lovers cannot (sung by Rebecca Luker and George Dvorsky) and supported by the ensemble. It’s my favorite song.

This is sheer poetry (aka, the chorus):

You are the promised kiss of springtime
That makes the lonely winter seem long.
You are the breathless hush of evening
That trembles on the brink of a lovely song.
You are the angel glow that lights a star,
The dearest things I know are what you are.
Some day my happy arms will hold you,
And some day I’ll know that moment divine,
When all the things you are, are mine!

What Do You Do on a Friday Night Alone…?

I blog. Or as I already know and you will soon find out, I ramble.

Had an interesting week. I almost did something theatrical. I missed out on a ticket to the final preview of the legendary flop of the season Glory Days, the one-night stand at the Circle in the Square that came into town against everyone’s better judgment (as per the bloggers and chatterati… then came the reviews… ouch). The one performance flop is that rare phenomenon – a show with either the arrogance or blind faith that they will be a hit, not seeing the writing on the wall during previews, rehearsals, try-outs, etc. The most recent one night closure was The Confederate Widow Tells All in 2003. Aside from that, many flops try to push as far as they can, like Urban Cowboy’s rescinding their initial closing notice to run a few more weeks. Amour’s 17 performances comes readily to mind. In spite of that show’s drastic failure, it still copped several Tony nominations, including Best Musical – once again proving that anything is possible. (I believe Rags, with its 4 performance run in August 1986 holds the dubious distinction of shortest lived Best Musical nominee). It was surprising to see the musical fold so abruptly, you’d think they would have tried to eke out some sort of a run however brief. It was deemed ineligible for Tony consideration, which I think is more because the nominators didn’t have time to see it as opposed to its actual quality, however poor.

Freed the house from the shackles of the oppressive Cablevision and their evil optimum for Verizon FiOS… (Let the Marxists among you bask in the irony of that statement). So far, so good. The internet is a faster and more reliable connection. On the amazing front – I get TCM, FXM, IFC, Showtime, Sundance, and every show I ever wanted on demand. Oh the goodies. I have season three of Weeds and season four of Entourage at my disposal. (I can actually watch a first-run episode of Weeds, what? Choir of angels is that you hosanna-ing on high? Yes. Wondrous). Seriously, its just nice to feel further in the digital age. Hell, we even got wi-fi going on in here. This is some impressive technology, folks. Not to mention as all this exciting new-age digital technology was being installed, my parents were having the windows replaced. All of this happening on one of the wettest days in recent memory. Yeah, we all got all sorts of wet.

I’m uber-psyched for Sunday morning brunch. I look forward to meeting other bloggers and having a generally kick-ass sort of day. There’s a poll. I can tell you’ve all devoured the idea with ravenously reckless abandon (all two voters… one of which was yours truly…). Oh well.

Did anyone catch the 30 Rock season finale…? Ohhhhh my. Some interesting goings-on with our favorite Lemon. Only wish there were another Stritch appearance. (Does anyone else share my enthusiasm for wanting Jack to encounter Nathan Lane, Molly Shannon and Stritchie in a good ol’ fashioned Irish-Catholic Walpurgisnacht?) I’m also looking forward to the season finale of The Office next week. Oh what a weird and tragic year for the sitcom in general. Hopefully we can be spared an encore with the negotiations involving SAG & AFTRA.

I have to admit I’m surprised at myself. May 4-7 came and went and I didn’t even think to blog about my beloved 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Been a crazy week folks, a crazy week. Hopefully, next week brings nothing but good things.

Tony nominations will be revealed shortly, as will the recipients of the 2008 Theatre World Award. It may surprise you, but I’m more excited for the latter than the former. Perhaps that’s because I’ve actually attended the Theatre World event in the past and it is a good time had by all. You get a feel of that community that industry professionals talk about when they work in NY theatre. Nothing but positive energy all around – and since there are no nominees, there’s no sense of competition. As I’ve said before, when it comes to the Tonys, I’m interested in the plays and revivals, but not the new musicals. Sad to say it, but not one title that has opened this year has made me go “I’ve got to run and see this!” That’s already not true of next season, because Billy Elliot is opening at the Imperial. I am uber-psyched for this one (Elton John’s score, while hardly Sondheim, or even Schwartz, is his best theatre composition yet). And the fact that they aren’t dumbing down the show’s political undertones and anti-Thatcher sentiments makes me even happier. Other shows have got to learn: trust your audience once in a while, sometimes we can be insightful, intuitive and understand context and subtext. Then again, if we live long enough, someone might write a musical adaptation of The Hottie and the Nottie. I realize that you are laughing, but that laughter is tinged by your underpinnings of fear because you and I both know it could happen.

I also re-read Marc Acito‘s How I Paid for College and the recently released sequel Attack of the Theater People this week. (I am an incredibly fast reader: I’m already well into book three: Then We Came to the End by Joshua Ferris, a first person plural narrative about the goings on in a Chicago ad agency on the skids). It was fascinating to revisit the first book, since I hadn’t read it in about two and a half years. I was still in New Paltz at the time and we had a wonderful independent bookstore in town called Ariel’s (that sadly closed my final semester of college) and I happened upon the title accidentally. When I noticed “musical theater” on the cover, it sounded like it would be an interesting time. It certainly was. The characters created, while on the broad side, bring to mind many of the theatrical people I knew both in high school and college. While extreme in their actions (ohhh the reveling in crime), at heart the characters genuinely care for another (in spite of their severe aversion to monagamy). As the title suggests, you follow protagonist Ed Zanni’s highly illicit heists and capers to secure his tuition for Juilliard (master-minded by his nerdy sidekick Nathan Nudelman, who, really, is the hero of us all – and the character with whom I most identify, minus the interest in dubious financial practices). The follow-up takes us two years down the line to Edward being rejected from his third year at Juilliard by Marian Seldes, who wants him to discover life and rediscover the raw truth that was present at his audition, but never in his classwork. Many of the old crew are along as he unwittingly becomes involved in illegal insider trading, masquerading as a British vee-jay for a party planner and once again fights off his mortifyingly unbearable ex-step-mother Dagmar. A lot of the gang is along for the ride, The Music Man with a deaf Harold Hill, Starlight Express is a major plot point (and hilariously described by Ed) and we get a few new additions, the most notable being Willow the sprightly, not quite there, but lovable actress (sort of the Juilliard equivalent to Luna Lovegood). It’s too involved and farcical for me to describe, just pick up the book.

In spite of all the fun to be had, it’s Acito’s two wonderful choices in the later chapters that left the greatest impression on me. In lamenting the then-current state of the fabulous invalid, his protagonist encounters an older woman who ushered in Broadway theatres for years and years, and magically recounts the moment when the opening night audience gave itself over wholeheartedly to My Fair Lady. It’s magical. Plus, Ed and Paula have what I call musical theatre zen when they second act Barbara Cook’s A Concert for the Theater. I especially relate on the latter, having seen Ms. Cook’s Mostly Sondheim a few years ago, she remains one of my all-time favorite solo performances. Everything that he feels, my friends and I felt as well (even at 75, she could still hit the B natural in “Ice Cream” and how). However there are certain questions that I have for Marc: what happens to Mr. Lucas? Why is Kelly’s mother missing from the story this time around? and when does the third book come out? (oh, you’ve got to…)

For reasons I won’t reveal here, I’m in a very bizarre mood. When I get into this particular mood I usually spend money to make me feel better. Needless to say, a brand new laptop is suddenly looking really, really lucrative right now… Oh boy, temptation is a wonder, ain’t it?

But should I see No No Nanette on Sunday instead? Oh, the decisions… And I just realized I forgot to pick up a MegaMillions ticket for tonight. Well, maybe next time…

Lenora Nemetz

It took 24 years for Lenora Nemetz to return to Broadway and thankfully, we are blessed to have her featured in the current revival of Gypsy as Miss Cratchitt and Ms. Mazeppa (with her revolution in dance). Her hometown paper, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, has a lovely article about her career and how she got the part in the current revival. To think that she was initially rejected for the lovely-yet-not-quite-as-spectacular-in-the-role Nancy Opel is mind-boggling. All due respect to Opel, who did a fine job, Nemetz is just first-rate in those roles. I’m so glad things have worked out so well for her these past few months.

For Lenora Nemetz, good luck strikes twice at Broadway audition
Sunday, May 04, 2008
By Christopher Rawson, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

NEW YORK — Lenora Nemetz is back on Broadway and, fittingly, in “Gypsy,” because who better typifies the indomitable showbiz gypsy than the spunky phoenix from Pittsburgh?

She plays two roles, the wry Miss Cratchitt in Act 1 and the brassy Miss Mazeppa, the trumpet-wielding stripper in Act 2. And she’s the standby for star Patti LuPone in the role of a lifetime, Rose, the stage mother to end all stage mothers.

“I never gave up the dream I’d be back here,” Nemetz says over a pre-show supper at Angus McIndoe’s, right beside “Gypsy’s” home at the St. James Theatre. “And now I’m here, like the play,” she says, referring to all the yearning in “Gypsy” to get into the big time.

Thinking about it, she mists up. “As Rose says, everyone needs something impossible to hope for. But I never thought it would happen so abruptly.”
That’s an illusion, of course: it took her whole life to bring her where she is. But the call from director Arthur Laurents came after the usual showbiz experience of rejection. She auditioned last spring to play Mazeppa in Laurents’ semi-staged version of “Gypsy” in the Encores! series, but she lost out to Nancy Opel. Then “Gypsy” was announced for Broadway, and out of the blue in December, Nemetz was cast as Mazeppa. Opel was doing the national tour of “The Drowsy Chaperone,” and rather than try to pry her loose, Laurents opted for Nemetz. “I love the costume,” she says; “it has fringe, and fringe moves!”

Right after Christmas, she was called again to audition to standby for Rose. When she walked in, she recalls Laurents saying, “Ah, the ironies of life. Don’t you just love them? I guess you wanted to kill yourself when you didn’t get it the first time.” She got the standby job. And an hour later she was called back to read for Miss Cratchitt. “You didn’t know it was Christmas, did you?” said Laurents.

She came to New York Feb. 2 and started rehearsals two days later. Previews began March 3 and they opened March 27 to the kind of reviews (knock wood) that make a long run likely.

She laughs, giddy: “And I’m still looking for an apartment!”

Actually, she hasn’t had time to look, she’s so busy with playing two roles, costume fittings, voice lessons and standby rehearsals for Rose. She’s been living month-to-month, this month in an apartment provided by the producers, because of all the extra rehearsals.

In 1968, Broadway seemed Nemetz’s natural home. That’s when the young Langley High School grad impulsively and improbably landed a third-year replacement role in the ensemble of “Cabaret” — the same role she played in the national tour a couple of years ago. Her career is full of such echoes, parallels and connections.

Then, after studying at the Pittsburgh Playhouse (“Michael Bennett said I should go to school — ‘You don’t fit in the ensemble’ “) and starring for the CLO, Odd Chair and Don Brockett, she returned to Broadway to standby for Gwen Verdon and then Chita Rivera in “Chicago” (“one day I did Velma in the afternoon and Roxie at night”), before taking over Chita’s role. “I took everything for granted,” she says. “Things just fell into place.”

Over the years, other Broadway credits have included “The Rink” and “Working,” and there was a New York show with Peter Allen, “Up in One,” and at Lincoln Center, “Pajama Game.” There were also a number of national tours and plenty of work in Pittsburgh, from the CLO to City Theatre to Pittsburgh Musical Theatre (never the Public). She even played Mazeppa for the CLO.

But there were dark times, too, and a bout with alcohol, now long past. Recently, her mother died. When Nemetz comes on stage with that dusky, serrated voice, dancer’s body and 1,000-watt smile, there’s a lot of life experience backing them up.

Talking with her is a journey through theater history. “People always say, ‘You’re old school.’ Actually, I’m not: I was trained by them [Bennett, Bob Fosse, et al] but I was part of the change” — the change to darker musicals. “I can’t ever recall doing a musical comedy on Broadway — even ‘Sweet Charity’ was dark.”

On “Gypsy’s” opening night, there was a note for her: “Dear Lenora. You’re back. I’m glad. Love, Chita.” Meryl Streep told her she was funny, and she grinned like a kid. There have been many friends from Pittsburgh. Rob Marshall and John DeLuca came to see it, and Kathleen Marshall was there opening night — the Marshalls were her fans back when they weren’t yet teenagers.

And there have been many reunions. Setting the original Jerome Robbins choreography for “Gypsy” has been Bonnie Walker, the dance captain on that long-ago “Cabaret.” Production stage manager Craig Jacobs worked on “Chicago.” The list goes on. “You hang in there long enough, it all comes back to you,” she says with showbiz faith.

“Patti and I are so different,” she says. “But she’s a good friend and so supportive — like Gwen and Chita.” Working with her on “Rose’s Turn,” Laurents has “allowed me to do it differently, to be me. You have to bring who you are to it.”

Nemetz brings plenty.

"What do the Simple Folk Do?"

I know I just espoused my dislike for the book of Camelot, but I have a feeling had I been a theatreogoer in 1961, I would have been entranced by the original production. Richard Burton as Arthur. Julie Andrews as Guenevere, Robert Goulet in his star-making turn as Lancelot (and that glorious baritone stamped forever on “If Ever I Would Leave You”). Also in the cast were Robert Coote, Roddy McDowall and John Cullum in his Broadway debut as Sir Dinadan and Burton’s understudy. With a glorious cast with that score (and from what I can tell, glorious scenography), I have a feeling I would have enjoyed the experience immensely. Just try not to be completely overtaken by Burton and Andrews here on “The Ed Sullivan Show”, presenting their second act showstopper (in its entirety, imagine trying to do a five minute musical theatre piece on live TV today?)

The Lusty Month of May

Tra la! It’s May!
The lusty month of May!
That lovely month when ev’ryone goes
Blissfully astray.

And you know what, Alan Jay Lerner is right on the money. There’s something about this month that rejuvenates a person. Obviously, it’s the better weather and the move from the dull and grey winter into the explosive fresh colorings of spring. Oh, but it’s good to be alive!

While on the topic, I may not particularly care for Camelot, but I do admire the Lerner and Loewe score very much. There are huge book problems which I can’t help overlook, and truth be told, I’ve never been sympathetic toward Guenevere and Lancelot. Sorry, but I’m in Arthur’s corner all the way. And someone as likable as he shouldn’t be treated the way he is. I know, it’s a part of the legend, but doesn’t mean I care for how its adapted. That original cast album, by the way, is a treasure and should be in everyone’s collection. (We won’t discuss that lugubrious mess that passes for its film adaptation). You can also catch the show live on PBS on May 8 when it’s presented by the NY Philharmonic at Avery Fisher Hall in Lincoln Center. The cast includes Gabriel Byrne, Marin Mazzie, Christopher Lloyd, Nathan Gunn, Stacy Keach, Bobby Steggert, Christopher Sieber and Fran Drescher as Morgan Le Fay (really…?). I’ll be watching from home, if at all.

Happy May Day, everyone!

On the next Arrested Development…

Arrested Development is my favorite TV show. If you knew me during its run, you already knew that. I was more than obsessed, I was an activist for this brilliant comedy throughout its three seasons. I didn’t catch the pilot, I picked up on the show on its third episode or so and wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it on the first go. However, I was compelled to watch it again and I quickly discovered the genius in the writing, in the acting (what impeccable casting), in the direction and in the narration.

Following the Bluth family’s exploits became my weekly haven for comedy. It aired on Sunday nights after The Simpsons and was an underdog from the get-go. In spite of critical plaudits and numerous awards, the show couldn’t gain an audience. The ratings remained incredibly low for the entire three season run until Fox gave up. Though it seemed more like Fox hadn’t a clue as to how to market the show (which probably would have had a definitive popular run had it aired on HBO or Showtime from the beginning). In spite of an Emmy win for Best Comedy Series, the network officials petered out on the final season, switching the show around, pulling it from the air without a moment’s notice (which was incredibly unfair to those of us who arranged their entire work schedule around the airing of this show), reducing what would turn out to be the final season to 13 episodes, and in a final burst of glory, aired the last four episodes in a marathon opposite the opening ceremonies of the 2006 Winter Olympics.

In what is my lone TV obsessive phase, I became ardently supportive of the show. I had AIM and livejournal icons, a post in my AIM profile about it, turned off my phone, and threw the phone at anyone who got between me and the TV screen. I even signed those asinine online petitions that aren’t read by anyone just so I could honestly say how much I appreciated and fought for this little show that could. I own all three boxed sets on DVD. Others I know became more interested in the show after it aired as a result of its exposure in the video format. I know I need to replace season 2 as a result (who leaves DVDs out of the case?)

In talking about the show, its catchphrases, its incredible moments of awkward and its penchant for the effectively absurd (it had its own bizarre logic, but boy did that logic work), I still crack up. It’s hard to pinpoint what I think is the best part of the show. I adore the characters, their quirks and the performances by the actors who played them. Though special mention to Jessica Walter for the most refreshing take on the overbearing matriarch. (And Jason Bateman as Michael the lone voice of reason, David Cross‘ sexually ambiguous Tobias, Michael Cera‘s awkward George Michael, Jeffrey Tambor as George and his twin brother Oscar, Henry Winkler as the clueless family attorney and it goes on and on and on…). Oh and I could go on about the guest characters (Liza Minnelli getting the dizzies anyone?), the recurrent plot points (“I may have dabbled in a little light treason”), the thinly veiled incestuous humor, and just the completely random bits (the chicken dances, loose seal, et al), but you’re much better off seeing it for yourself than reading about it from here.

I have just read recently that a film is in the works which would update us fans on the Bluth hijinks. I will not say anything more, since the series finale both tied up a surprisingly large amount of loose ends, but all the while opening a whole new floodgate of insanity. It was 53 episodes of sheer genius.

Though I love The Office and 30 Rock (the latter of which is the closest we have to AD today), neither come as close to my regard for Arrested. Here’s a very brief clip of one of my all-time favorite moments from this masterpiece:

This is my 100th post. I’m not sure if it’s a milestone, but I like to think it’s pretty cool.

Oh! And Happy Birthday to our fellow blogger Roxie!!

PS – Who would win – Violet Weston or Lucille Bluth…? I’d have to put my money on Lucille.

Quote of the Day #2

Ms. Smith gets another mention today from her second page:

I DON’T want to get silly here but must confess that seeing the incredible “South Pacific” revival at Lincoln Center is akin to having a true spiritual experience. I was never a big Rodgers/Hammerstein fan, but this time I was felled with emotion and appreciation. Everything about this production is perfect, including Bartlett Sher’s direction and the sets of Michael Yeargan. The music is more stunning than ever.

When it became the only musical to win all four Tonys for acting back in 1949 . . . when it was nominated for nine Tonys and won all . . . when it went on to nab the Pulitzer in 1950 . . . when it ran for five years – I was indifferent. Not anymore. This is a masterpiece. It seems to mean much more now, and its evocation of World War II is deeper. The moral lessons of racism seem even more apt. I salute one and all but especially Kelli O’Hara as the navy nurse Nellie Forbush. I also loved the magnificent Paulo Szot as the French planter Emile de Beque; his character is written as being a bit tentative but not his singing.

You may have to wait to see this show because current audiences are mostly upscale, upper-middle-class, middle-aged enthusiasts who support Lincoln Center. But young people and even kids are coming. Get in line! Don’t miss it! The revival experience of a lifetime – and with that other revival experience of a lifetime, “Gypsy,” also playing right now – well, that’s really saying something. Both shows are incomparable. I would hate to have to choose between them.

Quote of the Day

From Liz Smith’s gossip columnin today’s NY Post:

IN HIS review of “Gypsy” on Broadway, the Times critic Ben Brantley noted that the star Patti LuPone had gotten her role down so brilliantly that “she had made me eat my hat.” Previously, he’d given her a lukewarm review.

Indeed, after he saw Patti blow the audience away at the St. James Theatre, Brantley gave her the rave she deserved. The next day she sent him a chocolate cowboy hat in a deluxe hat box, with the note, “I hope you’re laughing.”