Everything I Know I Learned from Musicals

[title of show] an insular joy

I was thrilled to hear that the plucky little musical [title of show] would be headed to Broadway. I missed the show in its previous incarnations, so I was glad to have the chance to see it in its newly revised, ready-for-the-big-time form.

I inadvertently bought a ticket to the very first [tos] preview, which turned out to be quite a thrill and a bit of an annoyance at the same time. While it was great to experience the unbridled enthusiasm of all the hardcore [tos]-sers in attendance, the piercing shrieks did tend to grate. At the very top of the show, when beloved [tos] pianist Larry Pressgrove came on stage, he got an ovation that lasted two to three minutes. This was but a taste of what was to come: overall, first-night tosser enthusiasm easily added more than ten minutes to the show's running time.

On the whole, I loved the show, particularly for Hunter Bell's funny and fresh book, and for the cast of four incredibly appealing performers. I mean, what's not to love about a show and a cast that are as crazy about the minutia of musical theater as I am? Bell himself is charming and sweet. Jeff Bowen is more than just the hot gay guy (to Bell's adorable, aw-shucks, teddy-bear gay guy), he's also very personable, and a talented composer to boot. And Heidi Blickenstaff and Susan Blackwell are just about the best darned hags you could imagine. Blackwell has a hysterical deadpan delivery, and Blickenstaff is the resident brassy belter, a role she handles with great aplomb. On the whole, this wonderful cast of four comprise the kind of people you'd really like to be friends with: smart and funny, but at the same time genuine and vulnerable.

Much as I adored [title of show], I do have a few quibbles with Bowen's lyrics. For someone whom the show portrays as a grammatical nitpicker, Bowen doesn't seem all that fastidious when it comes to prosody and scansion. His lyrics often place the em-PHA-sis on the wrong syl-LAB-le. (e.g. "CRE-ating a vehicle" "Car-RIE," "mar-RY," etc.) Granted, this is a pet peeve of mine, but he also doesn't seem too particular about consistent meter (i.e. he often throws in extra syllables to accommodate certain words in a line).

[Oh, and a grammatical note to Bowen: There's absolutely nothing wrong with ending a sentence with a preposition. That's an old grammatical wives' tale that no current grammar maven of note really adheres to, just pedantic English teachers.]

But on the whole, I loved [title of show], so much so I that went back the next day to see it again. It was great to experience the show without a theater full of hardcore tossers, and it gave me a better sense of how the show would play to a more mainstream audience. There were still plenty of the faithful in evidence, but a few of the lines that got an uproarious response the night before were met with relative indifference the next day.

As funny as the show was for me, the humor is very insider-y, making me wonder whether [title of show] will appeal to anyone besides theater queens. For the show to enjoy a long run, it will need to catch on with non-tossers. There's no question that little shows can make money on Broadway: Avenue Q and The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee are evidence enough of that. But both of those shows would seem to have more universal appeal than [title of show]. Of course, people said that A Chorus Line wouldn't run because the inherent drama was too specific to the theatrical community. How wrong they were.

Last week, [title of show] played to about 50% capacity, and had an average ticket price of $42. It's certainly possible that the $163,000 the show took in could cover its presumably modest expenses, but things are going to need to pick up if the show has any chance of lasting. I would certainly love to live in a world in which [title of show] would enjoy a long, healthy, profitable run.

Damn Yankees: Summer Fun at City Center

Although I briefly address Damn Yankees in my Boston Conservatory course, until last weekend I had never seen a professional production. I'm very familiar with the faithful movie adaptation, and I've long been a fan of the cast album, but this was my first time seeing the show on a real stage.

No mere concert version, the City Center's Encores! production is fully staged, with costumes and sets, and without scripts. I had heard that performers in the Encores! series have to carry scripts because they're operating under a special concert agreement with the union. This was true of Juno and No, No, Nanette, but for Damn Yankees there wasn't a script in sight. Perhaps the "Summer Stars" series has a different union agreement, and/or since the Encores! shows run a bit longer in the summer, it's more worthwhile for people to actually learn their lines.

In any case, I thoroughly enjoyed this production of Damn Yankees, although I had some minor reservations with the show itself and with a few of the performances. The marquee performers here are TV stars Sean Hayes and Jane Krakowski, and for the most part they're professional but uninspired in their respective roles as Applegate and Lola. Hayes is at his best when glimpses of his Jack McFarland character on "Will and Grace" are peeking through, but he's stiff and stilted when he's trying to play it straight, as it were. It reminded me of seeing Megan Mullaley in Young Frankenstein, who was trying way too hard not to be Karen Walker. I say, don't resist it: If something works, let it ride. Did anyone knock Jimmy Durante or Fanny Brice for always doing the same shtick? Perhaps they did, but it hasn't affected the legendary status of those performers.

Hayes has some really great moments as Applegate, and certainly has the audience on his side. However, Hayes and director John Rando have made a major miscalculation during Applegate's second act would-be show-stopper, "Those Were the Good Old Days." Hayes is a classically trained pianist, a fact that Rando mistakenly chooses to showcase during the first part of the number. It's a choice that could have worked, but doesn't. Hayes focuses so much on his keyboard ministrations that he drains the number of its comic intent. It does set up a very cute visual joke with a violin, but otherwise this choice was misguided.

Jane Krakowski has the thankless task of trying to reclaim the Lola role from the marvelous Gwen Verdon, a very difficult task, as Bebe Neuwirth discovered during the 1994 Damn Yankees revival. But Krakowski certainly holds her own. There's no real spark in her Lola, but she has a strong voice and an amazing body. Plus, she's really a terrific dancer, a fact that becomes particularly evident during the "Two Lost Souls" dance break. Krakowski didn't really get much of a chance to show off her dancing skills in Grand Hotel or Nine.

The production team have chosen to use Bob Fosse's original choreography, recreated here by Mary MacLeod. Some of the dancers aren't quite in sync with the Fosse style, including Tony nominee John Selya. He's athletic, to be sure, but he hasn't quite been able to adopt the signature Fosse postures and mannerisms.

The below-the-title cast members are for the most part outstanding, particularly Randy Graff as an animated and sympathetic Meg. Cheyenne Jackson is his strong-voiced, appealing, and gorgeous self, although some of the vocal tricks he employs to such great effect as Sonny in Xanadu don't really work for Joe Hardy. 

The show itself is not without its flaws. The Gloria character, played here by Tony nominee Megan Lawrence, starts off helping to create the "Shoeless Joe" persona, then spends the rest of the show trying to cut the guy down, and the script provides no justification for the sudden switch. And the "Who's Got the Pain?" number is a direct parallel to "Steam Heat" in The Pajama Game: neither number has any real justification in the plot, but rather merely exists to showcase some terrific Fosse choreography. But even in the '50s, this was an antiquated notion, obviated by the Rodgers and Hammerstein revolution, which dictated that every element of the show should somehow serve the plot, reveal character, or establish time and place. Both "Who's Got the Pain?" and "Steam Heat" fail on all counts. 

But, on the whole, this is a solid production with an appealing cast, and a welcome summer diversion. And it's about as close as I'm ever going to get to taking in a Yankees game. Or any game, for that matter.

Boeing-Boeing: Return Trip Even Better

One of the best times that I had in the theater this season was taking in the revival of Boeing-Boeing, a middling excuse for a sex farce given a first-rate production by director Matthew Warchus. I somehow found myself convulsed with laughter, even as my logical mind was telling me that the play shouldn't have been as funny as it was. Since I saw the show, I've been reading the script, and although there's some clever wordplay, there's really not much on paper that would lead you to think it would be so hilarious on stage. 

So I decided to see the show again to see if it would hold up to repeat visits, and I'll be damned if it wasn't even funnier the second time. The expert cast of comic actors have settled comfortably into their roles, crafting even finer farcical performances. Christine Baranski was out for this performance, but her understudy Pippa Pearthree was just as good, although admittedly Baranski hadn't exactly blown me away.

Bradley Whitford and Tony winner Mark Rylance also gave performances that were satisfyingly on par with the ones they gave when I first saw the show. Rylance seemed to be adding business to his performance, probably to keep it fresh for him and to keep his fellow cast members on their toes. That spontaneity created an atmosphere in which everyone on stage seemed to be having a ball, which was terribly infectious.

But what really made this performance a treat were Mary McCormack and Kathryn Hahn, who have taken their already broad performances and made them even broader. Yet somehow it works, and deliciously so. This isn't the sort of play you can't really take seriously, on either side of the footlights, and McCormack and Hahn have embraced that notion and pulled out all the stops. Hahn seemed to sense the audience's approval of her exaggerated style and responded with more of the same. And McCormack was a nonstop riot from her very entrance.

The show is doing rather well at the box-office, grossing around $400,000 a week, which is pretty strong for a play. The average ticket price has been around $60, which means there are a lot of TKTS-ers in the mix, a fact I could tell by witnessing the cross-section of humanity in my immediate vicinity. A number of them talked a blue streak during the performance, and at least four of the people around me were chewing gum WITH THEIR MOUTHS OPEN throughout the entire show. Talkers I can deal with: You just politely ask them to cork their pie holes, and if they don't you get the house manager. But how do you delicately tell people to close their mouths when they chew? It's just such a fundamental element of manners that it's sort of like telling them they need to wear shoes.

But then at intermission, I overheard one of the cud-chewers talking about how Bradley Whitford was also in A Few Good Men on Broadway. "Wasn't that by that guy who did the TV show?" he asked his masticating wife. "You know, Aaron Spelling." Sometimes, if you wait, the universe provides you with its own satisfying version of revenge: blissful stupidity.

Bash'd: A Gay Rap Opera

Although many of the shows that I saw over the past weekend were revisits, there were three that I hadn't seen before. The first of these was Bash'd, which describes itself as a "gay rap opera." I wasn't sure what to expect, although I had read that the show was an attempt to co-opt the often homophobic medium of hip-hop to tell an empowering story about gay bashing. That seemed a bit strident to me, but this was one of the very few musicals I hadn't seen, and I was looking for something new to add to the mix.

It was also my first time at the Zipper Theater, recent home to the revival of Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well and Living in Paris, and Margaret Cho's The Sensuous Woman. It's a funky, sort of seedy space, with old car seats for chairs. Upon entering, I was informed multiple times that drinks were allowed -- nay, encouraged -- in the auditorium. (Uh oh...)

Bash'd tells the story of two "star-crossed" gay lovers from different backgrounds whose eyes meet across a crowded dance floor, and the next thing you know they're getting married. (The show is based in Canada, which is where the two stars and co-creators Chris Craddock and Nathan Cuckow hail from. And, of course, gay marriage is legal for all of our northern neighbors, not just those in a few ultra-liberal pockets, as we have in the states.) The show tells the story of these lovers entirely through rap, which is bearable -- even fun -- at first, but the meter quickly wears out its welcome.

When the show is focusing on the courtship and marriage of our ill-fated lovers, the show is amusing and often quite clever. Director Ron Jenkins employs some artful theatrical touches, not dissimilar from those employed in Broadway's The 39 Steps. But once the gay bashing comes on the scene, the show quickly veers into preachy, maudlin melodrama, without a shred of irony. There's no question that Chris Craddock ("T-bag") and Cuckow ("Feminem") are talented performers. But since they are also the show's creators, its failings fall at their feet as well. Their lyrics reveal a certain facility, but the deftness of their words is quickly overshadowed by the perplexing nature of the show's final message.

[SPOILER ALERT: Stop reading here if you intend to see the show. In order to fully explicate my views, it's necessary that I reveal what happens at the end.]

Since our narrators inform us from the beginning of the show that our lovers are "star-crossed," it's clear that we're not headed toward at happy ending. As the title implies, one member of the couple is beaten up rather severely by a pack of queer-hating dickwads. Gay bashing is a heartbreakingly important social issue, and one that certainly deserves attention.

But then the story takes on a certain "Thelma and Louise" vibe that muddies the authors' intent and makes the ultimate message of the show downright inscrutable. The husband of the beaten man heads out into the night seeking vengeance, and picks a fight with a group of straight guys, none of whom had anything to do with the original beating. Unbeknownst to him, his wounded husband has followed him, toting the gun that his well-meaning mother had given him when he left home to get away from his homophobic father. In a sort of West Side Story series of misunderstandings, the husband shoots and kills one of the straight guys. When the police arrive, the couple decide that rather than face jail, they'd rather die at the hands of the police, and they raise the gun to shoot at the police, and are instead both shot dead.

Normally, I wouldn't go into such detail, and ruin the ending of the show, but I'm at a loss to explain exactly what the message is here. Is it, "Here's what could happen if we don't stop the gay bashing"? Or is it, "If you do get bashed, don't pick a fight with straights in case your husband has followed you with a gun"? How is this supposed to be empowering? In a blind rage, our heroes fight back and are killed in the process. What exactly are we to take away from that? Although Bash'd starts out promising, it quickly dissipates that promise with a denouement that defies explication.

Don't get me wrong: this is very important subject matter we're discussing here. But there's a huge difference between having your heart in the right place and executing a show that does your noble subject matter justice.

Adding Machine: The Best New Musical of the Season

One of the highlights of my recent theater weekend in New York was getting a chance to see Adding Machine again before it closes July 20th. I was simply astonished the first time I saw the show (read my review), and I'm glad to report that the show holds up to repeated viewings.

And Joshua Schmidt's score, recently released on CD by PS Classics, just gets richer and more interesting the more I listen to it, and I've been doing so practically non-stop since the recording came out. I particularly enjoy trying to spot each motif that Schmidt has assigned to the characters as it recurs throughout the show, including Mrs. Zero's "Mrs. Twelve was sayin' to me..." and Daisy's "Darling, I'd rather watch you."

Director David Cromer had made a number of brave choices in putting the show together, such as eschewing applause breaks and casting...er...ordinary-looking people pretty much throughout the show. Another essential part of show is Keith Parham's neurasthenic lighting design, which does more than merely create a grim atmosphere, but rather punctuates the proceedings with stark slashes and staccato rhythms that firmly coalesce with the authors' intent.

As for that intent, Schmidt and his co-librettist Jason Loewith aren't afraid to portray Elmer Rice's downtrodden characters as stupid and bigoted, yet somehow sympathetic. The main character Mr. Zero emerges as a flawed but credible, three-dimensional anti-hero. "I'm like anyone else...What would you do?," he sings, as he confesses to the central crime of the show. Somehow, I felt for Zero, even as I said to myself, "Well, I was laid off recently by an asshole boss, but I didn't kill him. Much as I would have liked to..."

The show's performers maintain a high level of engagement and subtlety. Amy Warren as Daisy was particularly nuanced, giving every line reading what seemed to be a different spin from both the previous performance I saw and the recording. But they were all somehow equally effective. Warren is a marvel, fully embodying this woebegone drudge of a character. Also strong were Joel Hatch as Zero, Cyrilla Baer as his banshee of a wife, and a focused Joe Farrell as the intense and tortured Shrdlu.

Adding Machine is certainly not the feel-good hit of the year, although there seemed to be considerably more laughter from the audience this time. It didn't seem to stem from anything the actors were doing. Perhaps this crowd was simply more attuned to the comedy, or maybe I just don't fully recall the laughter from the first time I saw the show. I do have some minor quibbles with the production, including the inordinately long set changes. But on the whole Adding Machine is easily the most daring and satisfying musical of the year.

Passing Strange: Revisit and Broadcast News

Over the weekend, I revisited a whole bunch of shows, including A Catered Affair, Passing Strange, Adding Machine, and Boeing-Boeing. See my Catered re-review below, and watch for my Boeing-Boeing and Adding Machine reappraisals later in the week.

As for Passing Strange, my initial enthusiasm for the show has been waning somewhat as I listen to the cast recording. (Read my first review here.) The music doesn't seem quite as compelling upon further investigation, and I find myself increasingly irritated by the over reliance on assonance (rhyming "sex" with "cigarettes") and poor scansion in the lyrics (e.g. "un-DER your wing," "far lon-GER than you," etc.).

But since I had plenty of available show slots during this trip, I figured I'd take the show in again to see how it would hold up. Plus, it was one of only five shows with matinées on July 4th, and none of the others really struck my fancy.

Even with the limited competition, Passing Strange still wasn't able to attract a full house. In fact, the show played to just 37% capacity last week. So the show's probably not long for this world; I wouldn't be surprised if we heard about a closing notice sometime soon, perhaps this week.

Which is probably for the best, because Stew and Heidi Rodewald look like they're ready to pack it in. Stew seemed to be phoning it in, although frankly he didn't really seem all that demonstrative the first time either. The crowd energy was low; there were far fewer downtown alternativo types in attendance, and not that many African Americans either. The audience seemed mainly to comprise middle-class vacationers who got their tickets at TKTS and weren't really sure what to expect. The couple next to me left at intermission.

But the supporting cast was really on, perhaps because they're trained actors, not rock musicians. Colman Domingo and Chad Goodridge were particularly sharp. The dynamic Daniel Breaker was out for this performance, but understudy Lawrence Stallings was very animated and capable.

Even so, Passing Strange remains a bold work, one that challenges Broadway conventions and demonstrates new ways of approaching the form. For those of you who won't be able to catch the show before its imminent demise, Playbill.com reports that director Spike Lee will be filming the show for a TV broadcast on a cable channel TBD. Lee will reportedly record three performances later this month, two of which will have a live audience, and then edit the three together.

For a while there, it looked as though Passing Strange might turn out to be another Hair: a safe way for the middle class to experience the counter culture all within the relative safety of Times Square and the familiar Belasco proscenium. Even though Passing Strange doesn't seem to be catching on, the show's score is more mainstream than those of most Broadway shows. Ever since Hair debuted, people have been talking about how Broadway needed to stay relevant by reflecting changing tastes in music. Forty years later, it's finally starting to occur in earnest.

A Catered Affair: An Underrated Gem

When I got down to NYC yesterday, I was pleased to discover that A Catered Affair now has a Thursday matinée. This meant that I could see two shows on Thursday, maximizing my weekend show-attendance potential. But more important, it gave me a chance to see this marvelous musical again before it closes on July 27th.

I'm not entirely clear on why the producers would change the schedule so late in the run. Perhaps the show is especially popular with the matinée crowd, which tends to skew a bit older. But since A Catered Affair was the only Broadway show with a matinée that day, the theater was pretty full, most likely with discount-ticket buyers.

As I said in my original review, I saw a very early preview, but was nonetheless captivated by the show and its quiet charms. The production seems tighter now, and the performances more rich and dimensional. The various pieces have coalesced nicely since last I saw the show, emanating more humor and greater nuance. Director John Doyle has gone out of his way to avoid pat, obvious sentiment, crafting an efficient show that tells its story with very little ornament or pretense. It's really a shame that it hasn't caught on with the broader ticket-buying audience.

The performers are a marvel to a person. Faith Prince has tempered her tendency toward excess and evinces a very modulated and moving performance, although she does tend to scoop a bit too much in her upper register. Leslie Kritzer was again a model of restraint and honesty. Matt Cavenaugh was far more three-dimensional than before. And Tom Wopat is still a crotchety wonder as the frugal father with a really slow burn. Harvey Fierstein does tend to mug a bit (well, a lot), but he does it so well that it seems churlish to object.

I do still have some minor quibbles with the show. The blocking during the "Never Stop Saying 'I Love You'" song is still inscrutable. (Why does Ralph leave Janie in the middle of the scene, walk down the fire escape, and then continue the scene from downstage right?) John Bucchino's otherwise stellar lyrics fall victim to a cliché or two, and I spotted at least one anachronism: one character refers to a potentially prosperous situation as a "win/win/win," a usage that hadn't yet been coined at the time in which the show is set.

But overall, this is a lovely little gem of a show. If you have a chance, take in one of the remaining performances of A Catered Affair. It's not a splashy blockbuster, but it is a show with a stirring score, a humorous and heartfelt book by Fierstein, and a cast-full of moving performers at the top of their game. 

Spelling Bee at the Barrington Stage

I spent this past weekend helping a dear friend try to forget that she was "celebrating" a depressingly advanced birthday. Toward that end, we spent a lazy Saturday lolling around her house in the Berkshires, then went to Pittsfield, Mass to treat ourselves to Indian food, pedicures (my first), and a night of musical theater.

I want to make this clear: I did NOT force that last item upon her. It was her idea. Honest. She noticed that the Barrington Stage was hosting a return engagement of William Finn's The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, and suggested it to me as a great way to spend her [text omitted] birthday.

The Barrington Stage is actually the first regional theater to receive the rights to produce Spelling Bee after its successful New York run and national tour. It's rather fitting that the Barrington would receive this honor as it hosted the show's world premiere in 2004. Bill Finn must have figured it was the least he could do. 

This was my third time seeing Spelling Bee (I caught it at the Second Stage Theater as well as during its Boston run), and I remain completely enamored. It's certainly Finn's most accessible work, and it reveals him at his heartfelt and empathic best. Of course, much of the success of the show comes from Rachel Sheinkin's smart, funny, and Tony-Award-winning book, as well as director James Lapine's sure-handed editing job. The Barrington Stage program also goes out if its way to credit the show's developmental director Rebecca Feldman and The Farm, an improvisational theater group (which includes original cast members Jay Reiss, Dan Fogler, and Sarah Saltzberg) that developed the original script.

Despite some minor diction and sound issues, the Barrington production does the show full justice. The cast comprises a number of talented veterans of the New York stage, including Sally Wilfert (Make Me a Song) as Miss Peretti, and Molly Ephraim (Into the Woods) as Olive Ostrovsky. One quibble I had with the Boston cast was that too many of them seemed to be imitating the performances of the original New York cast. No such problem exists with the Barrington cast, as the members of the company seem to have found original interpretations for their respective roles. There were a few cast members who seemed to be pushing a bit too hard for laughs (particularly Miguel Cervantes as Chip Tolentino), but overall this cast could very easily have stood in for the Broadway company.

Spelling Bee runs at the Barrington Stage until July 5th. The same production will then play the North Shore Music Theater in Beverly, Mass from August 12th to the 31st. The NSMT house is in the round, and I have a hard time imagining Spelling Bee 360, but then the show played the Circle in the Square on Broadway, which is in three-quarter promenade. Still, I think it's going take some pretty clever re-staging to move the Barrington production into the NSMT space.

A Little Night Music With Christine Ebersole

As I walked to my seat at Boston's Symphony Hall, I noticed that the multimedia warm-up screen hovering above the stage touted Stephen Sondheim's A Little Night Music as "one of Broadway's most overlooked masterpieces." Masterpiece? Yes. Overlooked? Hardly. Night Music is pretty much universally regarded as a masterwork. It's also one of the very few Sondheim shows to make a profit in its original Broadway run.

I had been greatly looking forward to seeing Christine Ebersole and Mary Louise Wilson reunited for this concert, only to discover that Wilson pulled out at the last minute, citing a scheduling conflict. (What kind of "scheduling conflict" comes up the day before the show? The kind that isn't really a scheduling conflict.) Local Boston actress Bobbie Steinbach made for a wonderful replacement for Wilson, bringing just the right mix of world-weariness and wistful recollection to the role of Madame Armfeldt. 

So, no Wilson. Hey ho. At least I got to see my beloved Christine, who entered with an effusive rope of pearls and a shimmering, diaphanous red and black jacket. Her performance was no less luminous. Opposite her as Frederick was Broadway pro Ron Raines, with his marvelously rich and effortless baritone.

Besides the Broadway pros on hand, most of the cast comprised fellows of the Tanglewood Music Center. As you might expect, they were almost universally outstanding vocally (although Ashley Logan as Ann Egerman was a bit disappointing in this regard), but in the acting department almost all of them suffered in comparison to Raines and Ebersole (although Rebecca Jo Loeb made for a feisty and animated Petra). Matthew Worth as Carl-Magnus was especially emblematic of this dichotomy: His bellowing bass was impeccable, but his acting was cartoonish, far more than the admittedly broad role of Carl-Magnus requires. Now, it's a bit unfair to compare these younger folk to their more seasoned cast members. After all, these performers are music fellows, not acting grad students. But if they're going to share the stage with pros, they're going to face the inevitable, and potentially unflattering, comparison.

The role of Desiree was written for an actress with significant vocal limitations, Glynnis Johns. The short vocal lines were meant to give Johns plenty of room to breathe. Others who've played the role include Judi Dench, Elizabeth Taylor, and Jean Simmons, none of whom was really much of a singer. But Ebersole gives the role a lot more melodic emphasis, actually singing much of the material on which Johns and the others relied on sprechstimme. It made for a lovely change. It was similarly jarring, albeit pleasantly so, to hear Katherine Growdon sing Charlotte's songs in a resonant alto.

The show actually worked quite well in a concert setting, with Lawrence Goldberg's adaptation clocking in at an economic two hours and fifteen minutes, with intermission. This allowed the full splendor of Stephen Sondheim's rapturous score to take center stage. The highlight of the evening was unquestionably Ebersole's full-throttle "Send in the Clowns," which was ravishing, as was the reprise with Ebersole and Raines. The main flaw in the show is, and always has been, "The Miller's Son," although this is certainly no reflection on Rebecca Jo Loeb's energetic delivery of the song. It simply doesn't belong in the show. While a tour de force one-act in its own right, it serves no dramatic purpose. We don't care about this character, and it comes at a time when we just want to wrap things up, not spend four and a half contemplative minutes with the saucy maid.

After the show, I met up with some friends who had also attended the concert, and we went for drinks at Brasserie Jo, a tony local watering hole. As we sat discussing the concert, we started to notice Night Music cast members trickle into the restaurant. We speculated as to whether we might be so lucky as to run into Christine Ebersole.

Well, as we were chatting up Bobbie Steinbach, congratulating her on her masterful last-minute sub job, my friend Fred bellowed, "Oh, my God. It's Christine!" In an effort to be kind, Fred's husband David kept talking to Bobbie, but for Fred and me it was all about Christine. As La Ebersole passed our table, I extended my hand, which she graciously accepted and, embarrassed as I am to admit this, I actually uttered the words "I worship you." The cast retired to their table, and we continued with our libations. Later, as people started to trickle out, Fred practically forced me over to Christine's table to get a photo with her, for which I am eternally in his debt. Isn't she lovely? You can barely even tell that she's really thinking, "Oh, no. Another gay stalker..."

Can This Musical Be Saved?

Anyone interested in seeing how a marvelously talented cast can shore up material that is far beneath its collective abilities should head over to Playwrights Horizons before June 22nd. There you'll find Saved, a sanitized musical version of the 2004 movie of the same name. On the whole, the show reminded me of Next to Normal, and not just because of the presence of Aaron Tveit in both shows. Like N2N, Saved never quite establishes a consistent tone with which to treat its admirable subject matter.

To understand what's wrong with this flawed but well-meaning show, take a look at the logo. (See color version below) Yeah, it's not going to win any design awards, mostly because in addition to being aesthetically dull, it tells you nothing about the show. A heart with wings and a halo: Is this going to be a carefree romp about the Sacred Heart of Jesus? A show about an afterlife romance involving Dr. Christiaan Barnard? There's really no way to know.

The show starts off as though it's going to be a soft-pedal satire, but quickly veers into the land of bland earnestness. The extended opening sequence does nothing to establish a consistent tone, and I spent the rest of Act 1 trying to determine whether the show had a point of view. It never materialized, which left me feeling that the show was neither fish nor fowl, neither comedy nor drama, neither satire nor homage.

The plot involves a group of kids at a Christian high school who start to deal with some social issues -- notably, homosexuality and teenage pregnancy -- and are eventually forced to choose between strict dogma and compassion for their classmates. This creates a terrific opportunity for some biting social commentary, but the creators have squandered that opportunity.

Saved features an unremarkable score by Michael Friedman. And despite the fact that the show lists three lyricists -- Friedman, John Dempsey (The Pirate Queen, The Witches of Eastwick), and Rinne Groff -- the only time the lyrics become memorable is when they're painfully bad: "Life is screwy, grab onto a life buoy," "Cleaning your messy diapers taught me how to pray," and "Popping the zit of sin" are just some of the groaners from the show. What's more, the score feels repetitious: There are far too many songs in the show that essentially say "Life has thrown me a curve, what do I do now?"

As I mentioned, the show has a better cast than it really deserves, including the delightful Celia Keenan-Bolger as the central character Mary. Julia Murney plays Mary's mother, imbuing the character with dimension and humor, despite the two-dimensional material. Also noteworthy are Curtis Holbrook in the Macaulay Culkin role, and John Dossett, who deserves extra credit for being able to sing lyrics like "I'm yearning, I'm searching, I'm seeking" with a straight face.

As we were filing out, I overheard someone saying, "I wonder whether this show would work in a bigger venue?" I couldn't help it. I turned to him and said, "I don't think it's going to get the chance." Besides, it's not as though it's working in its present venue.

Can this musical be saved? Not from where I sit.