Stephen Sondheim has been pretty hot in his 80th year. His book, Finishing the Hat, became available in time for the holidays and I have finally had the chance to read and enjoy. It is a demanding text. What is it? The subtitle tells us: Collected Lyrics (1954-1981) with Attendant Comments, Principles, Heresies, Grudges, Whines and Anecdotes.
We’re coming up on the fiftieth anniversary of the fabulous Frank Loesser musical, How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. To celebrate, Daniel Radcliffe will star as window washer turned business hotshot, Finch, along with John Larroquette as the big boss, J.B. Biggley. I’m looking forward to this one, not only because of the dissonance of watching Harry Potter sing “Brotherhood of Man,” but because of my personal history with this play. Yes, readers, a much younger Broadway Fred was one of the great Finches of his time, in one of the finest productions of the mighty Studio Y Players.
In her director’s notes, Emma Rice, Artistic Director of Kneehigh Theatre, writes of a creature from Scottish and Irish folklore called the Selkie. This is a seal who sheds her skin, assumes human form, and dances at the beach. In some versions of the tale the Selkie is kidnapped by a man, has children, and lives among the humans. Eventually, however, she locates her seal skin, puts it on, and jumps back into the ocean forevermore. [Read more →]
I wasn’t wild about the original movie, La Cage Aux Folles, which came out when I was a freshman in college. Maybe it was the subtitles, but no matter how many friends told me between guffaws that the guy buttering the toast was pee-leaking comic perfection, I just didn’t laugh that much. Then, in the 80’s I was aware of the original Broadway musical version, but it wasn’t on the top of my list and the revival in 2004 was not that highly regarded. Now, a year into its ecstatically received third incarnation, I finally scored half-price tickets and made the visit.
Have you ever sat in the dark? Really dark. You can’t see your hand if you hold it inches from your face. No movie projector. No spill from the concession stand. No cracks from the parking lot. No LED’s for the steps. No flash lights. No iPhones.
How about no exit light?
A couple of months ago a musical theater holy grail became available on DVD. Evening Primrose was made for television and broadcast at the end of 1966. It is based on a short story by John Collier with a teleplay by James Goldman, but most lovers of Broadway will be interested in the music and lyrics of a post-Do I Hear a Waltz?/pre-Company Stephen Sondheim. All Sondheim fans will want to see this fascinating DVD.
I recently added two engaging and informative show business memoirs to my collection. The first, having recently won the National Book Award, is all the rage. The second was all the rage in 2006. (Even though I am not on the cutting edge, I eventually catch up.)
Say you’ve just gotten your tickets at the TKTS booth in midtown and you have a couple of hours before curtain. Your first impulse might be to go to a deli, but delis in midtown have absurdly large portions and prices to match. I say go west towards Hell’s Kitchen. A nice street is 46th where you’ll pass Restaurant Row, a stimulating stretch that is a little like the back end of a carnival midway. Pretty hostesses and handsome hosts are on the curb to entice you into their establishments with pre-theater specials. This is prime tourist country, however, and while you can get a good meal there (and sing show tunes at “Don’t Tell Mama” when your show is over) the prices go down as soon as you turn the corner onto Ninth Avenue. So that’s what I do.
I regret that I am not old enough to have seen a proper burlesque show, although I have done my homework on the subject. I have studied the writings of the late Ralph Allen, who did for old burlesque sketches what the Brothers Grimm did for folk tales. I’ve read accounts by burlesque habitués and sons of habitués. I have decided that my seventh grade math teacher, a nutty old man who frequently used the exclamation “cheese and crackers!” probably learned that term from Billy “Cheese and Crackers” Hagen, a top banana who frequently appeared at the Troc, Philadelphia’s last burlesque house. The Troc is still there but with bands, not bananas.
Not all of my Broadway experiences have been in midtown theaters. Between 1988 and 1993 I did my graduate work at 721 Broadway in lower Manhattan, the sixth floor of which housed (and still houses) the NYU Department of Performance Studies. There I learned to think of performance as something broader and more diverse than what happened on so-called legitimate stages. I had friend who was into Japanese Rakugo, another into shamanic rituals involving trance states, another into queer theory, and still others who studied downtown dance in which the women lifted the men. My area was American popular performance, especially vaudeville with a concentration in magic–the entertaining deception kind, not the raising the dead kind. Today, I sometimes teach a course with a deception theme, but back then I was still learning the basics.
