People have been asking why I have not posted a commentary on the Tony nominations -- something Musicals101 used to do religiously. Well, my reason for not doing so this year was simple. After a truly craptacular season for Broadway musicals, I cannot work up much enthusiasm one way or the other for the current crop of nominees. When the only interesting race of the evening is whether Gypsy or South Pacific will win Best Revival, its a sad commentary on the lack of new musical magic on Broadway. As it is, I will skip watching this Tony telecast.
A long time ago, I wrote on Musicals101 that musical theatre is bound to develop in ways no one can possibly foresee, and it will doubtless evolve in ways some of us are not going to like very much. This year, the Tony committee resolutely overlooked some big-budget traditional musicals of dubious merit (like the bloated Young Frankenstein and the tasteless Little Mermaid) and aimed most of their nominations at musicals that took a more innovative approach. While I applaud this apprach in theory, I cannot pretend to care about the "innovative" shows in question. I found Passing Strange to be deafening example of "sound and fury signifying nothing," a self-indulgent performance piece. In The Heights is a pleasant little show, but I can't say it really moved or delighted me. I will mercifully refrain from commenting on the other nominees, who are more or less on hand to fill out the category.
Am I really itching to see numbersfrom any of the new musicals performed on the Tony telecast? Frankly, no. One hopes we will get great scenes from the revivals, but beyond that, I have no qualms about not watching the Tonys this year. That night happens to be when the York Theatre is closing a weekend-long revival of the 1985 musical Grind. Sure, I will record the broadcast (for clips to show during classroom lectures), but I am not going to rush home that night to view the results.
I miss caring about the Tonys.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
And I Deserve a Toy
Every now and then, I have a Max Bialystock moment, and decide that I deserve a toy. This morning was one of those times. I had just gotten over a punishing case of the flu (so much for the vaccine I endured last October!), hosted Marge Champion at a very successful SRO Musical Conversation at the York Theatre, and got through a marketing meeting with my publishers to discuss a book that is now months past its original publication date. Yup, I've been working very hard, and I deserve a toy.
So I stopped in a video store, whiped out my trusty plastic, and bought the first and second season DVD sets for The Muppet Show. While I would love to tell you that my intentions were purely archival, that would be a lie. I happen to love the Muppets, and have no qualms admitting I was a total fan of this series, which turned these fuzzy-faced characters into the most unlikely variety repertory company of all time. Some were particularly charmed by the inexplicable relationship between soft-hearted Kermit the Frog and the eternally egotistical Miss Piggy, but I loved the whole insane corral.
And who could beat that ongoing parade of guest stars? At a time when variety shows were fading from the scene, the Muppets helped give the genre one final blaze of glittering, family-friendly glory. Such diverse musical theatre and film talents as Juliet Prowse, Joel Grey and Rita Moreno were among the first to make appearances on The Muppet Show, paving the way for a bona fide army of other top line celebrities in years to come. Even such divas as Julie Andrews and Beverly Sills would strut their stuff with Kermit’s crew, creating some rare moments of musical comedy fun. Who could forget one creepy-faced critter crooning “I hear singing and there’s no one there,” only to have Merman dismiss him with a curt, “You would!”
I’ll be relishing these disks for years to come, but will make a point of (you should pardon the expression) pigging out on them a bit in the next few weeks. As my relationship of 20-plus years comes to an end (not my idea, I assure you) and my beloved apartment goes up for sale, some musical comedy distraction is in order. And the nice thing with these DVD sets is that I will still get to relish them after my relationship and apartment fade into the past.
When life start’s singing a sad and blue song, go into your dance . . . and if you have two left feet as I do, you can at least let Miss Piggy hoof it for you.
So I stopped in a video store, whiped out my trusty plastic, and bought the first and second season DVD sets for The Muppet Show. While I would love to tell you that my intentions were purely archival, that would be a lie. I happen to love the Muppets, and have no qualms admitting I was a total fan of this series, which turned these fuzzy-faced characters into the most unlikely variety repertory company of all time. Some were particularly charmed by the inexplicable relationship between soft-hearted Kermit the Frog and the eternally egotistical Miss Piggy, but I loved the whole insane corral.
And who could beat that ongoing parade of guest stars? At a time when variety shows were fading from the scene, the Muppets helped give the genre one final blaze of glittering, family-friendly glory. Such diverse musical theatre and film talents as Juliet Prowse, Joel Grey and Rita Moreno were among the first to make appearances on The Muppet Show, paving the way for a bona fide army of other top line celebrities in years to come. Even such divas as Julie Andrews and Beverly Sills would strut their stuff with Kermit’s crew, creating some rare moments of musical comedy fun. Who could forget one creepy-faced critter crooning “I hear singing and there’s no one there,” only to have Merman dismiss him with a curt, “You would!”
I’ll be relishing these disks for years to come, but will make a point of (you should pardon the expression) pigging out on them a bit in the next few weeks. As my relationship of 20-plus years comes to an end (not my idea, I assure you) and my beloved apartment goes up for sale, some musical comedy distraction is in order. And the nice thing with these DVD sets is that I will still get to relish them after my relationship and apartment fade into the past.
When life start’s singing a sad and blue song, go into your dance . . . and if you have two left feet as I do, you can at least let Miss Piggy hoof it for you.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Don't Almost Revisit a Classic
It is considered poor form to review a workshop, unless of course the review is a rave. So I am not going to post a formal Musicals101 review of the current New York Musical Theatre Festival production of Main Travelled Roads, but I cannot resist offering a thought here on my blog.
If you are going to create any sort of artwork, it is a wise to avoid ideas that echo previous masterworks. Some years ago, the Broadway musical Copperfield had a song where the title character pleaded, “Mama, Don’t Get Married.” Set in 2/4, this charming number led a number of critics to compare it unfavorably to Gypsy’s 3/4 time “If Mama Was Married,” even though the two songs bore no resemblance to one another aside from two common words in the title.
Now imagine a musical that starts out with a farm girl deciding who will take her to a fair – the handsome hunk she loves, or the more aggressive man who won’t take no for an answer. While Main Travelled Roads is no Oklahoma, the vague resemblance was enough to make one person sitting near me audibly ask when the DeMille dream ballet would begin.
My friendly advice to the authors of Main Travelled Roads is to take whatever they have learned from this project and apply it to something else. The inescapable ghosts of Laurey, Curly and Judd (and Eller too) hang over Main Travelled Roads, and I suspect it will be impossible to escape them.
If you are going to create any sort of artwork, it is a wise to avoid ideas that echo previous masterworks. Some years ago, the Broadway musical Copperfield had a song where the title character pleaded, “Mama, Don’t Get Married.” Set in 2/4, this charming number led a number of critics to compare it unfavorably to Gypsy’s 3/4 time “If Mama Was Married,” even though the two songs bore no resemblance to one another aside from two common words in the title.
Now imagine a musical that starts out with a farm girl deciding who will take her to a fair – the handsome hunk she loves, or the more aggressive man who won’t take no for an answer. While Main Travelled Roads is no Oklahoma, the vague resemblance was enough to make one person sitting near me audibly ask when the DeMille dream ballet would begin.
My friendly advice to the authors of Main Travelled Roads is to take whatever they have learned from this project and apply it to something else. The inescapable ghosts of Laurey, Curly and Judd (and Eller too) hang over Main Travelled Roads, and I suspect it will be impossible to escape them.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Appearing on PBS
If you love documentaries like I do, you have probably spent more hours than you can count watching PBS. Sure, there are now several cable networks that offer documentaries on various subjects, but from the hard-hitting Frontline to the wonderful brothers Burns, the creme de la creme of documentaries are still found on public television. And because PBS is a public resource, pretty much everyone can access it.
So although I have been a "talking head" in various cable and DVD documentaries over the last decade, it was a special thrill to make my PBS debut in Hollywood Singing and Dancing. The producers contacted me about a year ago, and our filmed interview went exceptionally well, but I had no idea when the show would be aired. Imagine my surprise last Sunday morning when a slew of phone messages and e-mails from friends announced that I had been on the night before! Lucky for me, a rerun was scheduled for that very evening. I am not ashamed to say I spent the entire broadcast on the phone with my Mom, who kvelled over the entire program. Hey, its not every day you get to share the screen with Shirley Jones, Tommy Tune, Debbie Reynolds, Marge Champion and about a dozen other legendary talents. Mom tells me she spent the rest of the week hearing compliments from friends and relatives -- to put it mildly, she was a happy camper.And frankly, so was I.
Appearing on PBS is still something of a landmark for any historian and/or educator. And there is a definite pleasure in having strangers walk up on the street and say, "Hey, I saw you on TV this week!" (Go ahead, call me shallow!) But corny as it sounds, I keep thinking of the potential television has to inspire young viewers. You just know that somewhere, some kid watching that documentary got their first serious taste of musical film -- and with any luck, the torch has been passed on. My passion for musicals has been an animating factor in my life, and I want to give that passion to those that follow me.
As I type this at my desk in the York Theatre, an audience is just across the hall cheering for the songs of lyricist Amanda Green. This talented lady caught her passion for musical theatre from her parents, the legendary writer Adolph Green and the gifted actress Phyllis Newman. Not everyone can be lucky enough to have such a close connection to musicals. Some may catch the theatre bug from teachers or by seeing a show. But at least a few have found their passion by seeing something on PBS. So it is nice to have been a part of that -- very nice, in fact.
So although I have been a "talking head" in various cable and DVD documentaries over the last decade, it was a special thrill to make my PBS debut in Hollywood Singing and Dancing. The producers contacted me about a year ago, and our filmed interview went exceptionally well, but I had no idea when the show would be aired. Imagine my surprise last Sunday morning when a slew of phone messages and e-mails from friends announced that I had been on the night before! Lucky for me, a rerun was scheduled for that very evening. I am not ashamed to say I spent the entire broadcast on the phone with my Mom, who kvelled over the entire program. Hey, its not every day you get to share the screen with Shirley Jones, Tommy Tune, Debbie Reynolds, Marge Champion and about a dozen other legendary talents. Mom tells me she spent the rest of the week hearing compliments from friends and relatives -- to put it mildly, she was a happy camper.And frankly, so was I.
Appearing on PBS is still something of a landmark for any historian and/or educator. And there is a definite pleasure in having strangers walk up on the street and say, "Hey, I saw you on TV this week!" (Go ahead, call me shallow!) But corny as it sounds, I keep thinking of the potential television has to inspire young viewers. You just know that somewhere, some kid watching that documentary got their first serious taste of musical film -- and with any luck, the torch has been passed on. My passion for musicals has been an animating factor in my life, and I want to give that passion to those that follow me.
As I type this at my desk in the York Theatre, an audience is just across the hall cheering for the songs of lyricist Amanda Green. This talented lady caught her passion for musical theatre from her parents, the legendary writer Adolph Green and the gifted actress Phyllis Newman. Not everyone can be lucky enough to have such a close connection to musicals. Some may catch the theatre bug from teachers or by seeing a show. But at least a few have found their passion by seeing something on PBS. So it is nice to have been a part of that -- very nice, in fact.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Letters from The Master
Just finished devouring The Letters of Noel Coward, edited by Barry Day; easily the most enjoyable read I've had in years. Not only do we get a life's worth of The Master's private correspondence to friends and colleagues, but in many cases we get letters these extraordinary people wrote to Noel. The result is a literal -- and literary -- treasure trove. What Coward fan could fail to enjoy an inside look at his relationships with Marlene Dietrich, Lunt & Fontanne, Gertrude Lawrence, Clifton Webb, and more? I for one reveled in getting the long-awaited scoop on his infamous feud with Mary Martin, which began when she starred in Coward's 1946 London production of Pacific 1860 and ended in time for the duo to co-star in the landmark 1955 American television special Together With Music.
More than one friend of mine has commented on Coward's frequent use of politically incorrect obscenities in these letters. Frankly, this didn't bother me. These letters were never intended for public reading. Noel used strong language, partly to make his letters more amusing, and partly because it can take strong language to express strong feelings.
I think the real issue for some readers is Noel's affection for "the C Word," the one that rhymes with "runt," "stunt" and "bunt"? He uses it rather freely, but not in a particularly misogynistic way. Yes, on occasion it refers to difficult women (such as Beatrice Lillie) but it is also used to refer to men, situations and places, including in one unlikely instance Mexico City. Of course it is one of the rudest words in the language, one my mother condems. I fully understand why many women find this word unacceptable under any circumstances, but truth be told, I have heard more women use that word than men -- and usually in reference to other women. That may not "justify" Coward's use of it, but then who says he needs justification? A rapier tongue was part of the Coward persona; those who don't like it are welcome to read something less potentially controversial. But if you can stand the vocabulary, this book is a rare joy ride.
Actually, I reveled in seeing fresh examples of Coward's linguistic dexterity. He describes the often troublesome Tallulah Bankhead as a "conceited slut" -- a phrase I have never seen before, and one that fits a frightening number of people (of all sexes) that I've contended with over the decades.
Noel's fans and scholars will delight in The Letters of Noel Coward, but I won't be the least surprised if a sequel eventually appears. We get the Master at his best and worst in this book. My one regret is that no correspondence with his longtime companion Graham Payne is included. Mr. Day explains that certain aspects of Noel's private life should remain private. While I certainly respect that position, I can't help hoping that time will lead to the publication of more of Coward's letters, including the occasional love note.
More than one friend of mine has commented on Coward's frequent use of politically incorrect obscenities in these letters. Frankly, this didn't bother me. These letters were never intended for public reading. Noel used strong language, partly to make his letters more amusing, and partly because it can take strong language to express strong feelings.
I think the real issue for some readers is Noel's affection for "the C Word," the one that rhymes with "runt," "stunt" and "bunt"? He uses it rather freely, but not in a particularly misogynistic way. Yes, on occasion it refers to difficult women (such as Beatrice Lillie) but it is also used to refer to men, situations and places, including in one unlikely instance Mexico City. Of course it is one of the rudest words in the language, one my mother condems. I fully understand why many women find this word unacceptable under any circumstances, but truth be told, I have heard more women use that word than men -- and usually in reference to other women. That may not "justify" Coward's use of it, but then who says he needs justification? A rapier tongue was part of the Coward persona; those who don't like it are welcome to read something less potentially controversial. But if you can stand the vocabulary, this book is a rare joy ride.
Actually, I reveled in seeing fresh examples of Coward's linguistic dexterity. He describes the often troublesome Tallulah Bankhead as a "conceited slut" -- a phrase I have never seen before, and one that fits a frightening number of people (of all sexes) that I've contended with over the decades.
Noel's fans and scholars will delight in The Letters of Noel Coward, but I won't be the least surprised if a sequel eventually appears. We get the Master at his best and worst in this book. My one regret is that no correspondence with his longtime companion Graham Payne is included. Mr. Day explains that certain aspects of Noel's private life should remain private. While I certainly respect that position, I can't help hoping that time will lead to the publication of more of Coward's letters, including the occasional love note.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
FLOYD COLLINS at NYU/Steinhardt
I make a policy of not reviewing amateur productions on Musicals101. Mind you, I have tremendous respect for such productions -- heck, I can literally say that I wrote the book on them (The Complete Idiot's Guide to Amateur Theatricals). But student and community theatre groups have far different goals than professional theatres, and the pressure of facing reviewers could warp that process. However, every now and then I see an amateur production so stunning that I can't help posting a comment -- and Musicals101's new blog seems the perfect place to do that.
Because I currently teach musical theatre history at NYU's Steinhardt School, I make a point of catching as many of their productions as possible. Last night, I saw their staging of Floyd Collins, a show which has inspired a great deal of analysis since it debuted off-Broadway in 1995. Many were amazed that the true story of the 1925 media circus surrounding a trapped cave explorer could be turned into an effective musical. Composer-lyricist Adem Guettel's score is often beautiful but extremely challenging, both to performers and audiences. It must be performed with precision and style, and few amateur groups can muster the kind of singing actors required to make this material shine.
Well, the Steinhardt production set the stage aglow from first to last. While the entire production (under the gifted direction of John Simpkins) was laudable, three cast members in particular made this a riveting experience. Jeremy Morse brought extraordinary passion to the role of reporter Skeets Miller, Nic Rouleau played Homer Collins with real vocal and dramatic power, and Jay Armstrong Johnson was not merely good in the title role -- he held an audience's attention even while essentially motionless. His singing made the Stravinsky-esque twists of the score sound effortless, and overall displayed genuine star quality. Keep an eye out for all three of these men in years to come -- and you can say you first read about them here.
(Hey, don't laugh -- the last time I wrote a comment like that, it was for an unknown kid named John Lloyd Young, who was acting out in the wilds of New Jersey. As I recall, he picked up a Tony for Best Actor in a Musical a few years later. )
Am I partial because I teach at Steinhardt? Perhaps. But I think I know when I see great talent in action, and that's exactly what I saw last night.
Because I currently teach musical theatre history at NYU's Steinhardt School, I make a point of catching as many of their productions as possible. Last night, I saw their staging of Floyd Collins, a show which has inspired a great deal of analysis since it debuted off-Broadway in 1995. Many were amazed that the true story of the 1925 media circus surrounding a trapped cave explorer could be turned into an effective musical. Composer-lyricist Adem Guettel's score is often beautiful but extremely challenging, both to performers and audiences. It must be performed with precision and style, and few amateur groups can muster the kind of singing actors required to make this material shine.
Well, the Steinhardt production set the stage aglow from first to last. While the entire production (under the gifted direction of John Simpkins) was laudable, three cast members in particular made this a riveting experience. Jeremy Morse brought extraordinary passion to the role of reporter Skeets Miller, Nic Rouleau played Homer Collins with real vocal and dramatic power, and Jay Armstrong Johnson was not merely good in the title role -- he held an audience's attention even while essentially motionless. His singing made the Stravinsky-esque twists of the score sound effortless, and overall displayed genuine star quality. Keep an eye out for all three of these men in years to come -- and you can say you first read about them here.
(Hey, don't laugh -- the last time I wrote a comment like that, it was for an unknown kid named John Lloyd Young, who was acting out in the wilds of New Jersey. As I recall, he picked up a Tony for Best Actor in a Musical a few years later. )
Am I partial because I teach at Steinhardt? Perhaps. But I think I know when I see great talent in action, and that's exactly what I saw last night.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Make Them Hear You (What Was That?)
Caught a preview performance of Passing Strange at the Belasco this past week. Now, I don't believe in reviewing a production before it opens, and am not about to do so here, but I do think it is fair to comment on a trend that seems to be gaining steam on Broadway -- the use of heavy duty amplification. My theatre-going life only stretches back to the 1970s, when Broadway musical casts were already routinely miked, so as much as my heart belongs with such events as Scott Siegel's glorious Broadway Unplugged concerts (long may they reign!), I have to confess that every main stem musical I have ever seen was electronically amplified. So there is no way to call me an old-school reactionary. I like hearing clearly from the last row of the balcony just as much as anyone else does -- an easy thing to do in smaller houses, but heaven help you in the Gershwin, the Minskoff, or the far larger houses on the national touring circuit these days.
However, I fail to see why any Broadway audience should be subjected to amplification that literally makes their clothing vibrate. Several days after seeing Passing Strange, my ear is still ringing -- yeeowch! Some numbers were so over-amplified that the lyrics became unintelligible. This may be an attempt to make rock concert-goers feel more at home in theatres, but I found the effect repelling. And that's a real pity, because (much as I refuse to review the show here) there is much in Passing Strange to enjoy. Like many others, I first noticed the volume increase in Rent, arguably the first Broadway musical where the sound system took up more square footage (and far more budget) than the scenery. Other shows have added more woofer and tweeter power. It certainly kicked up a few decibels higher last year with Spring Awakening, but Passing Strange is far, far louder. We're talking volume for the sake of volume. I wish Stew and company would turn down the racket so the real power of this show can come through.
I was not alone in my reaction, but to be fair, there were clearly many in the house who adored every ear-splitting vibe. If others feel differently about louder sound on Broadway, I invite them to post here. My hearing is still a bit off, but I can still read you loud and clear.
However, I fail to see why any Broadway audience should be subjected to amplification that literally makes their clothing vibrate. Several days after seeing Passing Strange, my ear is still ringing -- yeeowch! Some numbers were so over-amplified that the lyrics became unintelligible. This may be an attempt to make rock concert-goers feel more at home in theatres, but I found the effect repelling. And that's a real pity, because (much as I refuse to review the show here) there is much in Passing Strange to enjoy. Like many others, I first noticed the volume increase in Rent, arguably the first Broadway musical where the sound system took up more square footage (and far more budget) than the scenery. Other shows have added more woofer and tweeter power. It certainly kicked up a few decibels higher last year with Spring Awakening, but Passing Strange is far, far louder. We're talking volume for the sake of volume. I wish Stew and company would turn down the racket so the real power of this show can come through.
I was not alone in my reaction, but to be fair, there were clearly many in the house who adored every ear-splitting vibe. If others feel differently about louder sound on Broadway, I invite them to post here. My hearing is still a bit off, but I can still read you loud and clear.
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