Everything I Know I Learned from Musicals

August: Osage County Now at the Music Box

It's rare enough for me to see a play in the first place, let alone see that particular play more than once. But when I saw August: Osage County at the Imperial, I was tremendously impressed and thoroughly entertained. However Deanna Dunagan, who plays the monstrous matriarch, was out for that performance. Understudy Susanne Marley was strong, but I got the sense that I was really missing something special not having seen Dunagan.

And since the show I was supposed to have seen that night (Glory Days: RIP) had closed on its opening night the previous Tuesday, I was at first at a bit of a loss as to what to see on Friday. I briefly contemplated taking in the lovely A Catered Affair again. I also considered The 39 Steps, but all that was left at TKTS was obstructed view. No thanks. The guy said he had a great seat for August, so I bit.

I'm really glad that I did. I still think the play is a bit too pat: everyone has a dirty little secret, and all is revealed in the end. But a friend mine had an interesting take on this: August in this respect is like a Roy Lichtenstein painting, or some other Pop Art piece. It represents a heightened reality, a sort of compressed, close-up, ironic view of modernity. The fact that Tracy Letts's play seemingly showcases every social malady imaginable isn't meant to be realistic, but rather a sort of exaggerated microcosm for our age.

An interesting perspective, although I'm not entirely sure I buy it. All I know is that the play is enormously compelling and perversely entertaining, and it has the finest ensemble of actors I've seen in many a season. Deanna Dunagan's performance was very different from that of Susanne Marley, although each was effective in her own way. Dunagan brings a keener sense of confidence to the role, although I found I was more moved by Marley. That's probably because I saw her first, and didn't have any sense of expectation.

I must say there are pros and cons to the production having moved from the Imperial to the Music Box. The latter is far more intimate: about 1,000 seats to the Imperial's 1,400. But the stage at the Music Box seemed a bit wider, which spread the action further apart. This might simply be because at the Imperial I was in the center orchestra while at the Music Box I was orchestra left, but I really felt that stuff happening stage left was less immediate. I got the definite sense that while one side of the audience was reacting to the comedy, the other side seemed to be missing something. (I just checked and it turns out the Music Box stage is actually narrower than the one at the Imperial. Go figure. My perceptions were likely skewed by my audience-left perspective.)

Oh, and one final note of annoyance: there was a woman sitting in front of me who quite obviously wasn't enjoying the show, and made sure everyone around her knew it. She was particularly perturbed at the length of the show, and made it a point to conspicuously check her watch, sigh loudly, and a couple times even say things like "When is this thing going to end?" and "Come one, get it over with." Listen, bitch: you're not required to like the show, nor are you obliged to stay. But you have NO right whatsoever to ruin the moment for the people around you. The show is three hours and twenty minutes long, a fact made clear in numerous places available to the theater-going public. Your choices are: shut up or leave.

Here endeth the sermon.

Boeing-Boeing: A Sparkling Silk Purse

Regular readers will recall that I make occasional forays into "legitimate" or "straight" theater. (Although I abhor both terms: so musicals are illegitimate? Or crooked?) But what more excuse could I need as inducement to stray beyond my musical predilections than the prospect of the delectable Christine Baranski in her first Broadway role in 17 years?

OK, so the vehicle in which she's making her long-overdue return, Beoing-Boeing, is nothing more than a rickety excuse for a French sex farce. Somehow director Matthew Warchus manages a feat of alchemy, turning theatrical dross into comic gold. Warchus has amassed a stellar cast of comic actors and crafted a confoundingly entertaining production.

The highlight of this uniformly marvelous cast is Tony nominee Mark Rylance, who recreates his acclaimed and Olivier-nominated role from the London production of Boeing-Boeing. Rylance is letter-perfect as the put-upon schlub with the inexplicable sex appeal, who seems to inspire gales of laughter with his every move, gesture, and expression. It's a masterful and captivating performance.

Matching Rylance note-for-note is leading man Bradley Whitford as the American Lothario attempting to juggle three separate "air hostess" fiancees. It's when this simple little system inevitably falls apart that Whitford really shines, adopting a high-pitched panic that satisfyingly shatters the character's smug equanimity. 

Director Warchus also mines comic gold from the sexy stewardesses, who receive three distinct and sharp characterizations from three remarkable actresses. Gina Gershon handily proves that she's left certain pole-dancing movie parts behind her as Whitford's Italian paramour. The delightfully crass Kathryn Hahn hams it up deliciously as the American stew. And best of all is Tony nominee Mary McCormack as the Teutonic powerhouse Gretchen. There's something about each of these performances that's decidedly over-the-top, yet somehow in context it all works. Warchus creates a heightened reality in which the actions and mannerisms of these aeronautic Amazons make perfect sense.

I must admit I was a tad disappointed in Christine Baranski as the irascible French cook Berthe. She was effective, sure, but unremarkable. I guess I went in expecting her to blow me away, but she wound up merely working in the part, without standing out, which I suppose is fine. I think the wonderful Ms. Baranski may have fallen victim to my elevated expectations. She was certainly the source of many hearty laughs throughout the madcap evening.

On a side note, this trip to the Longacre allows me to cross another Broadway theater off my list. I now have only three to go: the Broadway, the Lyceum, and the Winter Garden. I'll be entering the first two with Shrek and [title of show] . As for the last, well I might have to break down and grab a cheap seat to Mamma Mia. Or I might not.

Tony Nominations: Catered Affair Was Robbed

The Tony Nominations came out this morning, and I'll be spreading my observations out over the next few days.

But the first thing that I noticed was that Cry-Baby received nominations in the best musical, best score, and best book categories at the expense of a far superior show: A Catered Affair. The nomination committee evidently got a hair across its collective ass and decided to slight librettist Harvey Fierstein, composer/lyricist John Bucchino, and director John Doyle.

That's really a shame. Although I found Cry-Baby passable (read my review), I enjoyed A Catered Affair far more (read my review). I mean, how can you even compare John Bucchino's lovely score to that of whoever those guys are who wrote the forgettable Cry-Baby songs? Well, history will out, and I think we're going to see that in the long run Bucchino's stirring and heartfelt songs will stand the test of time. Cry-Baby, not so much. At least the stars of A Catered Affair got their well deserved nods for leading actor and actress: Tom Wopat and Faith Prince. Also nominated was the great Jonathan Tunick for his orchestrations.

Hey, it's a business, right? The Tony committee probably felt that Cry-Baby had a better chance of touring and would have a more lively number to present on the Tony television broadcast. I've long since given up the notion that the Tonys had anything to do with artistic merit. But they do mean business: shows that win Tony Awards tend to run longer. Which probably means that the delightful but admittedly slow-paced A Catered Affair is not long for this world.

No No Nanette: Great Cast, Dumb Show

Over the weekend, I caught No No Nanette as part of the Encores series at City Center. Although I often briefly address the show in my BoCo course (there usually isn't much time, what with having to cover Show Boat during that particular session), I had never actually seen it. Overall it reminded me why we never really see too many revivals of 1920s shows: they suck. No, No, Nanette is one of the very few to have survived, and it's not very good either. It's mildly amusing, but hardly engaging.

Although the Encores folk have chosen to use Burt Shevelove's heavily rewritten book for the 1971 revival, No, No, Nanette still plays like a creaky period piece. It's essentially innocuous, warmed-over farce: the plot complications aren't credible, even for farce, so there's no dramatic tension. Yeah, in musical comedy everything usually works out, but there has to be even the suggestion of a possibility that it might not. Or else what's the point? The songs and the dances arise with scant justification, and since this is the revised version, it's a bit more fair to judge the show by modern standards of integration and cohesion.

The main attractions at this particular production are Randy Skinner's tap choreography, the sprightly-but-staid songs by Vincent Youmans, Otto Harbach and Irving Caesar, and the cast of stellar performers. I've long been an admirer of Skinner's work, which is lively and varied. The guy really knows how to dress a stage. And the songs include such effervescent gems as "Tea for Two," "I Want to Be Happy," "Take a Little One Step," and "You Can't Dance With Any Girl."

As for the cast, I must admit a bias towards the wonderful Beth Leavel, who stole the show a few seasons back in The Drowsy Chaperone. I'm happy to report that Leavel here shows the same sparkle, the same command of the stage and comic timing that one her the Tony Award. Another standout was the delightful Sandy Duncan, who more than keeps up with the chorus of hoofers who are all easily 40 years her junior. (Oh, and according to her Playbill bio, she does NOT in fact have a glass eye, contrary to popular myth.)

The very talented Mara Davi was bright but bland in the admittedly underwritten title role. Shonn Wiley is quite a discovery as Nanette's beau: gorgeous voice, terrific arch style, and a great dancer. Likewise light on his feet was Michael Berresse in the role played by Bobby Van in the 1971 revival. I've seen Berrese numerous times (Chicago, Kiss Me Kate, The Light in the Piazza, A Chorus Line), and this was by far his most assured and breezy performance.

As for Rosie O'Donnell, well, let's just say it was nice that she was there to help sell tickets. She's a game performer, but you can really tell she's not stage-trained. There was no nuance to her delivery: it was all just blunt wisecracks. (Full disclosure: I was once laid off because of Rosie. I worked at the same company that published the abortive Rosie magazine, and because she flaked, they lost millions of dollars, had to consolidate, and I and many dear friends got dumped in the process. In truth, the company screwed up big-time, but Rosie didn't help with her erratic, mercurial behavior.)

Finally, a special shout out to two of my former BoCo students who were in the Nanette chorus: Luke Hawkins and Ryan Malyar. Guys, it was great to see you cheek-by-jowl with so many great performers, and you more than held your own in the process. In fact, you shone. Here's hoping there are more great things in both of your respective futures.

Glory Days Closes After One Performance

Even Carrie ran through the weekend.

In case you haven't heard, the last new musical of the season, Glory Days, closed on its opening night this past Tuesday. Apparently the producers were hoping against hope that the reviews would rescue the show from flop-dom. Didn't happen. The show had been playing to 21% capacity, and the producers didn't even have enough money to keep the show running until the Tony nominations come out next week. Someone told me he saw composer/lyricist Nick Blaemire at a concert over the weekend giving out comps like there was no tomorrow.

Turns out, there was.

I was supposed to see Glory Days this Friday night, but now I'm going to have to find another show to round out my theater weekend. It's disappointing, if only because I had set a goal to see every musical this season. I couldn't remember the last time an original musical closed after only one performance, so I broke out the reference books and found the following:

Kelly (1965)
Here's Where I Belong (1968)
Billy (1969)
La Strada (1969)
Gantry (1970)
Home Sweet Homer (1976) 
A Broadway Musical (1978)
Onward Victoria (1980)
Dance a Little Closer (1983)

You'll notice there was quite a spate of one-night-closures in the mid-to-late 60s, which was when the phenomenon really began. It's all about economics: before the 60s, a poor-to-middling show could often afford to weather out the bad reviews, run long enough to eke out a small profit, close, and disappear into obscurity. By the 1960s, costs had risen to the point where this was no longer possible. By the early 80s, producers had smartened up, and you really didn't see a lot of one-night-wonders in the late 80s and throughout the 90s.

An interesting footnote: Nick Blaemire is also in the cast of the struggling and not-so-well-received new musical Cry-Baby. He's obviously a very talented guy; he was one of the liveliest and most idiomatic performers in CB, and he was also quite good in the national tour of Altar Boyz. Here's hoping he finds success someday soon, on either side of the footlights.

Harry Connick on Broadway: Act 2

More news on the hotties-returning-to-Broadway front. Tony nominee Harry Connick Jr. is planning his next New York theatrical outing in yet another "new Gershwin musical," this one called Nice Work If You Can Get It. Connick proved himself a fine comic actor as Grace's sometimes husband on "Will & Grace," although he was often a bit stiff in the recent revival of The Pajama Game.

Connick's PG director, Kathleen Marshall, will direct and choreograph NWIYCGI, which will hopefully help her atone for the sins of Grease. The book for will come from Joe DiPietro, who penned the long-running I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change and the not-so-long-running All Shook Up. At one point, the show was called Heaven on Earth, and was purportedly based on the original Gershwin musical Oh, Kay!, although it's not clear whether that remains the case. The show also appeared at the Goodspeed Opera House in 2001 under the title They All Laughed.

When I say "yet another" new Gershwin musical, I of course refer to the fact that everyone seems to think the Gershwin songbook is ripe for the picking when it comes to putting together a "new" show. You might think that the idea of a "jukebox" musical is a relatively recent invention, but people have been plundering George Gershwin's marvelous work ever since he passed away in 1937. My One and Only and Crazy for You are only the most recent examples. Hollywood also recycled Gershwin tunes for quite a few movies, including "An American in Paris" "Funny Face," "Rhapsody in Blue," and the disastrous "They All Laughed." 

Of course, there are many reasons that it's so tempting to appropriate Gershwin songs. Firstly, they're just so many of them that are outstanding. But it's also because most of them were written at at time when show songs didn't always have a tremendous amount to do with the show itself. Many of the songs were just written to be hits, and if the song happened to serve some purpose in the show, well, even better. It's interesting to note that you rarely see anything from Of Thee I Sing, Let 'Em Eat Cake, or Porgy and Bess in any of these compilation shows, because those three Gershwin shows were crafted post-Show Boat, a time when the creators of musical theater were much more interested in creating integrated works.

Nice Work if You Can Get It is currently scheduled for a February 2009 opening in New York after a December tryout at Boston's Colonial Theater.

Hugh Jackman in A Star Is Born?

We've been hearing so much lately about Hugh Jackman returning to the Broadway stage, so it would behoove us all to take this latest possibility with an entire lick of salt. In recent months, the criminally hot Mr. Jackman has been said to be considering a return to the New York in Pal Joey (true, but plans fell through), Leap of Faith (true, but just in a workshop production), and Stop the World - I Want to Get Off (not true, and we can all be thankful for that).

The latest purported vehicle for The Return of the Jack Man, according to Michael Riedel of The New York Post, is a stage version of the Judy Garland movie A Star Is Born. No, Jackman won't be playing the Judy role in drag; he's considering the role of Norman Maine, played in the movie by James Mason. Michael John LaChiusa will adapt the book from the original screenplay (by Moss Hart and Dorothy Parker, no less). The production will also feature the original Harold Arlen and Ira Gershwin songs, including "The Man That Got Away" and the "Born in a Trunk" sequence. Presumably, LaChiusa will also supply any addition songs that the show requires.

I don't know about you, but Michael John LaChiusa is the LAST person I would expect to be working on a project like this. I've always admired his shows (Hello Again, The Wild Party, Marie Christine, See What I Wanna See, Bernarda Alba, First Lady Suite, Little Fish, etc.), but I've never really enjoyed any of them. They usually seem to me like master's theses set to music: lots of clever ideas, but not a lot of palpable human emotion. But perhaps this will be the show in which the Tin Man finds a heart.

Anyway, back to Hugh Jackman. The last time I was in London, I stayed with a friend who lives one street over from Jackman's London flat. In fact, you can see Hugh's bedroom windows from my friend's home office. (See photo left: they're the ones in the middle, top floor, with the shades drawn. Sigh.) Alas, Hugh was not in residence while I was in London. So I guess I'm going to have to wait to see if this A Star Is Born production ever comes to fruition. Either that or I could offer my houseboy services to my London friend in exchange for stalking privileges.

[NOTE TO INTERPOL: Kidding.]

New Gypsy Recording Will Include Cut Songs

So, there's going to be yet another recording of Gypsy for us to add to our collections. Any showtune queen worth his or her salt will already have Ethel Merman, Angela Lansbury, Bernadette Peters, and Bette Midler singing the classic Jule Styne and Stephen Sondheim score. (The Tyne Daly recording is for fanatics only, and you could certainly be excused for giving the Rosalind Russell soundtrack a miss. Yeesh.) But there's always room for Patti LuPone, no matter how many recordings of Gypsy you already have.

But to make this new recording even more of a must-have, the CD will feature six songs that were cut from the show. These will include "Mama's Talkin' Soft" and "Nice She Ain't," both of which have been recorded before. But the CD will also feature first-time-ever recordings of "Three Wishes for Christmas," "Smile, Girls," and "Who Needs Him?," as well as two versions of "Mother's Day."

There's an interesting story behind why "Mama's Talkin' Soft" was cut. It's a charming song, currently available on the "Lost in Boston III" CD, and it was meant for young Louise and Baby June to sing in counterpoint to "Small World." The pairing of the two songs would have illuminated just how much the two young girls comprehend their mother's conniving nature.

However, one of the girls in the original Broadway production was afraid of heights, and the location from which they were meant to sing the song was very high up. So, rather than replace the girl, the creators cut the song. (That's actually sort of sweet, when you think about it.) It makes you wonder whether the scene would have been better with the two songs sung in counterpoint, although it's hard to imagine Gypsy any more effective than it already is. 

The new Gypsy CD will be recorded on May 5 and 6, with a release set for August.

Javier Bardem Drops Out of Nine Movie

Bad news, folks.

Oscar winner and major hottie Javier Bardem has dropped out of director Rob Marshall's movie version of Maury Yeston's Nine. Bardem is reportedly suffering from exhaustion and is taking a year off to recoup. Whether we can really believe that remains to be seen, but there haven't yet been any reports of "creative differences." (I'm always kind of nonplussed by these people who take a year off to recharge. Must be nice.)

So, who's going to replace him? No word yet, but certain names spring to mind as possibilities: Antonio Banderas, Hugh Jackman, Freddie Prinze Jr.

Kidding.

Care to speculate, dear reader, as to who will replace the departing Mr. Bardem?

Lists, Lists, Lists

I recently discovered that I can add sub-pages to my blog (just like a real live Web site!), but at first I was at a loss as to what I could put on those pages. Surely not the newsy stuff that comprises my regular blog posts: more perennial stuff of continuous appeal.

Then more recently I've came across The Drama 100: A Ranking of the Greatest Plays of All Time by one Daniel S. Burt. The book has actually rekindled my interest in regular old non-musical plays. (Please don't think less of me, dear reader: I'm still hopelessly devoted to musicals.) I've been buying up the scripts to some of the plays that Burt lists, and having a grand old time discovering great playwrights old and new.

But Burt's book got me thinking about creating a list of my own: The Musical 100: A Ranking of the Greatest Musicals of All Time. I love lists, both reading through them and creating my own. But I discovered that the effort was a bit more challenging than I initially had thought. There simply aren't as many musicals as there are plays, let alone great musicals.

This is a simple fact of history: straight dramas have been around for literally thousands of years, but the musical, as we currently know it, didn't really begin to evolve until 1866 with The Black Crook. And most of what came after that, at least for the next 50 years or so, was unadulterated crap. We didn't really start to get musicals of any quality until the early part of the 20th century, and most of the musicals that we pay any attention to these days were written after 1940.

So I was at a slight disadvantage in compiling my list, but soldiered bravely on. And in the process I even came up with a list of 100 runners-up, and was then inspired to compile a running list of musicals that just plain outright suck (IMOHO). I consider all of these lists to be living documents: I've already made numerous changes, and will continue to do so as the spirit moves me.

The pages are listed on the sidebar to the right, or you can click through the links above. Take a look and let me know what you think. I would imagine there will be some consternation and uproar, but dialog is good. Just don't expect it to be a democratic process. As I say rather tactlessly in the introduction to my 100-best list, the criteria are mine, and if you disagree you're free to create your own. Then you can send it to me, and I can tell you you're full of beans.

Whatever that means.