You know, if you killed someone, I wouldn't turn you in.

People, I am sorely disappointed in you.

Way to have an opinion on Company. The love-its don't have too many reasons for loving it, other than the theatre critics' equivalent of words to ejaculate to; and the hate-its can't muster up enough validation for their bile-fueled pans. Just bad jokes about actors playing instruments. Oh, yeah, and the all black costumes. Jesus Quintana, for the love of Peter, Paul, and April, get a life!

What disturbs me about this particular crop of reviews is not their assumptive logic that if you can play one note on an instrument, you're an automatic virtuoso. No. It's their assumption that the actors are either uniformly brilliant or uniformly awful. There's no justification. They either blame the director for coaxing 14 bad performances (well, one of the reviews compared these actors to regional theater and all I could think about was Amy Poehler in Wet Hot American Summer: "You guys? Am I at the Cleveland Playhouse?" Actually, given the Ohio origins of this show, that's kinda funny...), or praise him with the strength of whatever would have happened if Patrick Stewart's one-man Christmas Carol had the technology to clone him 14 times over.

I really liked Company. There were some flaws. It wasn't perfect, but nothing ever is. And what few truly bright spots it had shone a klieg light on exactly what is missing from the current Broadway scene.

As it is, I am especially upset that no one is singling out Fred Rose as the only one in the show who aptly juggled its Jack-of-all-trades demands. And I know I lavished praise on some of his other castmates in the last entry, but what he did with his acting, singing, movement, and playing in that show was pure magic.

What do the critics say about him? Nothing. They lump him with the other husbands and say that "they" fail to make a serious impression in the play.

Well, this one said he was good. But his "wife" was better.

She was okay. Pretty to look at in a Tina Fey mold. Perhaps. But to me, he was prime. If this was an 80s dance musical, he'd be Scott Wise.

Whatever. People just don't understand. How weird is it that most of his credits in the program are straight, non-singing acting roles? Which is crazy, because he has a wonderful singing voice. Oh, those crazy actors who can sing too, often at the same time. What will they think of next? Instruments?

Ah. Now we all know how lame those jokes look on paper.

Moving on...

Brantley loved it. My mom said that he made a great case for her to finally come out and say that she loved both this show and Sweeney Todd. Which to me is like the culmination of the Washington-Sarajevo talks. But, when you get right down to it, she read a review before she formulated her opinion, and, whose opinion was that? Ben. Brantley. Wait, who?

The guy who attributed his wet dreams to Julia Roberts.

In. Print.

Also, disturbingly, a lot of these critics are men. I don't know if they're all straight, but they really loved the pretty little blonde girl, April. Which is funny, because, all day today, I was singing the song from that old Strong Bad e-mail about the pretty blonde girl ("That skinny blonde girl...Something about the ages...I failed college algebra...").

I should get to the library right now to do some research on an upcoming project, or, at the very least, blow-dry my hair out before heading there...but I just can't bring myself to.

The current culprit is, as always, the job search. As tempted as I am to find some bookstore and put in an application, it just seems a little too Box Office Poison for me to throw the towel in this early.

I totally waivered on a current interview I was supposed to set for the day after tomorrow. And while this idea of working for a nonprofit that provides free cosmetic surgery to disadvantaged youths both nicely complements my beliefs and provides a decent entryway into the foundation industry...I would be staring at photographs of severely disabled children who deserve free corrective surgery. As opposed to the last job I interviewed for, which is both looking for a really immediate hire...and where I would instead be boredly staring at a poster with Fred Rose on it, with a look on his face that just seems to beckon, "Yeah, my pretend wife is the one with her arms embracing me, but it's you I want to wrap my legs around and make sweet, sweet music with..."

Yeah. I know. Ew. And hopefully, my family won't be too sick of me going on endlessly, "If we got married, my name would be Rose Rose!"

A sucky job for the holiday season would suck, but still remain nonetheless below me.

A decent job for the holiday season would be faboo.

And, frankly, I do not ask for much this holiday season. I already got a new computer: All I ask for in life right now are a job, a social life, a cool velvet jacket like the one Larry the older husband wears in Company, and -- speaking of Company -- a nice makeout session with Fred Rose.

Edited to add: It's been well over a day since I started this post, and, yes, I did go to the library. I did not find what I was looking for. Except I really felt like I should have at least checked something out. Well...

In an effort to finally exorcise (or at least quell) my obsession with Jason Alexander, I checked out the soundtrack to Jerome Robbins' Broadway.

There, I said it. Even though this is easily the least embarrassing thing I've confessed in the span of this blog entry so far. This is a show that falls on the "Best Musicals" spectrum somewhere between City of Angels and Drood. Although calling it a musical is sort of like calling Design of a Decade the best album Janet Jackson ever put out.

It's more like a greatest-hits retrospective of every great big production number Jerome Robbins ever directed/choreographed. Like Fosse, but with its dancers also handling the singing and dialogue. And you've got your Scott Wise playing everyone from an On the Town sailor to a West Side Story gang member (no wonder he won the Tony!), and your Debbie Shapiro handling the brassy belting, and your Faith Prince doing the googly, dippy character roles, and for some reason Havoc fave and "Law & Order" mainstay Jack Noseworthy is listed in the liner notes as one of the chorus dancers. Wow.

Alexander isn't really the star of this show, but for some reason or another, he's actively involved in it. He's really more like Joel Grey in Cabaret or Ben Vereen in Pippin. Only the short, neurotic, bald, Jew version of this archetype. And he plays some other characters over the course of the album, including Pseudolus in Forum, Floy in High Button Shoes, and Tevye in you know damn well what. But he still plays all of them as George.

For one thing, I was totally mistaken. Jason Alexander doesn't play Peter Pan in this. Charlotte D'Amboise does. She also sings Anita in the West Side Story montage. I have no doubt in my mind that she can fill out a green leotard much nicer than Costanza.

And, yes, I am well aware that there is a Broadway musical called High Button Shoes, and the lead character is named Floy. I know this because the Goodspeed is doing it this year, and, for some sadistic reason or another, I've wanted to earn my first big regional credit at a show there or maybe somwhere else like the Paper Mill, where decent, however dated, musicals (like 'Lil Abner and Summer of '42) are still allowed to exist. On a personal note, one of my dad's favorite CDs is their two-piano version of The Most Happy Fella. After the early season announcement, though, I am not getting my hopes up on a Goodspeed-deigned Equity card over this coming season. That show is all men in swim trunks and women with parasols and that is so not my real estate. More specifically, no Jews in that world. My voice teacher keeps telling me she's surprised that I've never played Hodel before, and now I totally understand why.

Here's what else Alexander does over the course of the album: He basically patters it up with stupid introductions, as if this was the Living Museum of Broadway Production Numbers. As in, "The year is 1928. The Prohibition is looming. You need a password to get into the jumpingest juke joint in town and that password is...Billion Dollar Baby!"

It's horribly schtick-y. Happily, for the West Side Story sequence, they don't even use him anywhere. Assuming the audience hears that opening snap, and knows what kind of romantic tragedy they're in for: Specifically, "Introduction," "The Dance at the Gym," "America," "Cool," "The Rumble," "Somewhere," and lots of dancing. So, it's really like the Cliffs Notes version of West Side Story. Too bad this whole show isn't on a video somewhere. I feel like I'm really missing something without the dancing.

And, looking at the liner notes, George actually shares top billing with triple-threat performer Robert LaFosse, who sort of serves as the principal dancer of the show, playing Tony in West Side Story and Gaby in On the Town. I should also mention that "You've Gotta Get a Gimmick" is the only number from Gypsy included here, although I hear from my theatre-obsessed sources that "All I Need is the Girl" was cut from previews.

Surprisingly, I don't know anyone who's ever seen this show. Not even my parents.

But because she's probably reading this, I should note that this is my mother's all-time favorite musical. If you sing any song from the beginning terribly, she will proceed to sing said entire song with more energy and pitch than the entire cast of Company.

Except Fred Rose. He can stay.

Happy December, everybody!

Free full-size alto saxophone inside!!!

Ahh...wait? Did I still have a blog? The last time I checked, I was still well into the job search and planning out my future. A blog was never in the cards...now, that is sheer frivolity!

I am watching Turner Classic Movies right now. TCM has pretty much ruled most of my television-watching schedule, as far as I'm concerned. An American in Paris is on right now, and, while it's still one of my all-time favorite movie musicals, it sure could have used more monkeys.

And it sure beats the continuous White Christmas marathons they've been having otherwise. I'm so glad I left the hometown theatre scene as soon as I could, because, as it stands, we will be the absolute last theatre on earth to put on a production of White Christmas ever. And it really reinforces a lot of people's theories that I do, indeed, come from another planet. On the "falling behind the pop culture" spectrum, Kansas is somewhere in between Canada and Russia. It should probably count more as a planet than, I don't know, a gulag archipelago?

I am not one for holiday cheer. I never was. I hated Striking 12. Unless they start playing "Christmas Wrapping" by the Waitresses at some point during the season, or even "The 12 Days of Christmas" by Bob and Doug McKenzie, I call it a bum deal. Thanksgiving, likewise, is not my favorite holiday. It's every little piggy's favorite, but not mine. Probably because it just doesn't make sense to have such a big meal so early in the day. And while we might be, quite possibly the only family in the history of earth that eats dinner at 3:00, rest assured, we are still trying to figure out how most of the people who did show up at our Thanksgiving feast are actually related to us. Maybe Long Island is a gulag.

At another end of the spectrum, I saw two Broadway shows in the last week. I think we just decided to forgo the usual "Thanksgiving movie" -- either because a Broadway show is more exhilarating than a movie after a logy Turkey Day, and this is New York City, or my fam still won't forgive me for dragging them to see Sideways a few Thanksgivings back.

Or the new Chris Guest movie is getting lackluster reviews. Say it isn't so! I haven't been this jazzed for a new movie since Return of the King!

We saw Company and Spamalot. And I'll spare you most of the gory details for now. I am still mentally processing how I really felt about Company, for a random variety of reasons.

First of all, the acting really ran the gamut in this show from "brilliant" to "suck," with "suck," more often than not, evenly spread around each of the book scenes. And I know this was a show where the actors were hired from all kinds of backgrounds (opera, straight-up drama, cabaret, the underground scene), because the talent search becomes so specialized. Like Sweeney Todd before it, the actors all play instruments, and there is no orchestra. I think the poster could have used some work, because not a single person in the cast is holding an instrument: false advertising!

I have to give mad props to the woman who played Sarah in this show. I didn't think I'd actually be using the phrase "mad props" in a blog entry, let alone one about a hoity-toity intellectual Broadway play, but she deserves that and much more. She was the only one representing the estrogenal side of the show who actually seemed like she had a personality. I don't know what it is about this show, or the context of the time it was written, or the people who even wrote it, but it struck me as weird that all of the women were either doormats or ice queens. And I know the whole show is supposed to be filtered through the way Bobby sees it in his mind, and how he views his friends' married relationships. It just strikes me as odd. Especially in light of the fact that the actor who played Bobby recently came out of the closet. I'd probably refer to it as "the elephant in the room," but then the 3 people in Peoria who had actually heard of him would have been sorely mistaken.

Although, I should also shout-out the guys who played Larry and David (curb your enthusiasm, folks; all of the characters in this show have blando, Americana names). They also seemed like intriguing human beings, made the most of the material, sang beautifully, played the hell out of their respective instruments, and connected with the audience. Or, at least, this one lonely member of it. "David" was too cute. I wanted to give him a nice shoulder rub.

It’s kind of weird that I’m singling out the husbands for praise. They had one of the weakest numbers in the show, “Have I Got a Girl for You.” They just sort of stood in place while taking turns playing various brass instruments in a line. How can you not have fun singing about Sassarack slings and the kama sutra? Man!

That guy who played Harry, though, was a crack-up. Such great comic timing. He just played the character as wonderfully hilarious as he could have. And scored. John O'Hurley meets Alan Thicke in an ill-fitting sweater and khakis. His singing, too was also a beautiful and soulful alternative to Charles Kimbrough's yawning on the original CD. Somebody get this guy his own game show on the Family Channel!

Otherwise, the show was kind of a massive downer: Dark costumes, no set, few lights, and this really took me some time to get it through to myself. This is experimental theatre. It's one of those shows that only seems fun to do, but when you watch it, man; you really feel like you should be "getting" more than what it is out of it. Every other prop is invisible. It isn't like Sweeney Todd, where you see Patti LuPone splashing around a bucket of blood with all the glee of a six-year-old, or Billy the mean boy in Carrie. It's as if the actors have to be static with their movements and the way they deliver their songs; every other step must be massively symbolic of something else. And, while some of it works, some of it has to work on some level...it just doesn't. The actors are either stuck behind intstruments, or forced to wander around aimlessly with them. And those Office Max(TM) swivel chairs and plexiglas platforms sure didn't help either. Which meant a lot of making shit up just to cover the loose ends. Some things only worked once, but the other things just dragged on and on and on...

Good idea: Having the actress who plays Jenny wander around her husband aimlessly, while he's playing the cello and singing "Sorry-Grateful," and she's playing the violin.

Bad idea: Having the girlfriends play alto saxes OFF-KEY.

Also, the creepy, Gestapo-like lighting effect in "Side by Side."

Okay, I've never seen Company. From what I understand. The original version has Michael Bennett choreography, cool retro costumes, and Broadway razzle-dazzle. There is no razzle-dazzle in this version of Company, because there is no choreography. Not a lot of rhythm and feeling, either. Or pretty much anything related to "movement" other than the office swivel chairs and the stiffly marching around. But I was listening to music on my computer, and "Tick-Tock" came on. I guess that was my feeling with Company to begin with. If a Broadway show isn't exciting or different from what is out there, it isn't worth performing. And this show is exciting and different: It just isn't very happy. Also, no electric guitars. I'm still glad I saw it over the preview weeks so I could formulate my own opinions before the crits get around to eviscerating/jazzing it. It really was a nice show with some beautiful moments (like "Marry Me a Little" and "Sorry-Grateful), but, for the most part, it dragged. And the costumes and hair were the ugliest I have ever seen on a Broadway stage. Not counting Larry's pimpin' velvet jacket, of course.

And Sarah's necklace. I hope it wasn't magnetic. What, with all those flutes on the stage...

Also, the funeral flowers were a nice, symbolic touch. There was a woman in the show who didn't do much except stroke them and put ribbons on the various real props in the show. She also had a small ribbon on the back of her fugly dress that seemed in serious danger of falling off. You'd normally worry about a dancer tripping over that ribbon, but I'd be more concerned about an errant cellist forced to march around that proscenium stage.

I had to excuse myself for a good cry after that show.Sure, it wasn't "Tick Tock," Donna McKechnie, Vocal Minority Company...but it was something. Overall, it seemed cathartic, interesting, and innovative. And I so hoped someone would bust out the farfisa jazz organ. Alas. Also, the final moment during "The Ladies Who Lunch" where the woman who was singing it kept yelling, "ROIDS! ROIDS! ROIDS!" That baffled and interested the audience at the same time. Well done, Company.

If you want to hear how "You Could Drive a Person Crazy" sounds with someone who can actually play the alto sax, click here. Also? "Cantina Band" on their Star Wars tribute CD.

Spamalot, meanwhile, is a show I have already seen. Unlike Company, my dad was kvelling about this for a few days. I was just happy to see colors again. And dancing. Lots and lots of dancing.

I was never a fan of the "lots of great guy roles, one diva and the Rockettes" structure in musical comedies that has become pretty much widespread with this, The Producers, and Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. Luckily, Marin Mazzie played the Lady of the Lake and, although much different than Sara Ramirez, she brings a nice interpretation to the role.

Jonathan Hadary plays King Arthur, and Martin Moran is Sir Robin. The rest of the cast is more or less made up of unknowns. It's not like in Company, where some of the people seem a little too inexperienced to be on the stage, but they needed to serve some purpose in the show anyway. It's both good and bad: Good because they aren't names, and get to play the lead roles anyway; bad because you get the feeling that almost anyone can be plugged into the role, because the name recognition stems from Monty Python and Spam. Not really anyone/thing else of note.

Here's what I appreciated about seeing Spamalot again: The cast didn't seem too familiar with Python as a whole. And it was really like a fresh version of the show, because they interpreted these iconic characters and lines and bits fully as their own. I don't expect anyone to grow up on Holy Grail and do a pitch-perfect Brother Maynard. I'm usually a comedy snob about these things, but I've realized that I don't really mind as long as the final product is still funny. It's like "Marry Me a Little." Even if an alto sax is off-key, there really is no way you can screw up that song. And I mean that sincerely.

Post title swiped from this classic 'toon.

That's extracurricularrific!

ETA: Yes, the Comments Board, she is no more. I was so hoping Fred Rose (pictured, above left) would post a taking-up on my offer to give him a backrub, but, alas...

Yep.

Kramer, how could you?!

"Kramer's Racist Tirade" -- Caught on Tape (courtesy of TMZ.com)

But what I don't understand is, why did they bleep out the cuss words, and leave the racist epithets in the tape? Wouldn't those be more offensive anyway?

Just to answer everyone who's ever asked me (for some weird reason or another) -- No, Michael Richards was not Jewish. Cosmo Kramer probably was. If I remember correctly, Jerry and Jason were the only cast members on "Seinfeld" who actually were Jews in real life - Elaine is of French extraction. Just because my degree is in Jewish Studies doesn't mean I know which celebrities are Jewish and which aren't, so just step off of it already.

It just makes sense to compare Dr. Van Nostrand to Mel Gibson now.

So, I present you with a much less disturbing Kramer-related clip straight from the Muppet Labs: "Senfeld Babies":

Happy Sweensday to Me!

My birthday was yesterday. I always feel so awkward whenever it comes around because I feel some obligation to remind people. And it just kind of loses any momentum at that point.

If not for nothing, it did merit an obligatory "birthday thread" on the IRC message boards. Albeit a collectively shared, anonymous one. Leading me to believe that either the improvisers of the world truly have big, generous hearts...or I'm but one of the butt of a cruel and ironic joke.

Also, I get the feeling that people may be reading this blog. People other than my mom. The thing that really gets me is that I've also attraced a lot of spammers. If you didn't just give this blog a passing reference during the one or two times I've mentioned contemporary elitist musical theatre, I should let you know that I'm just going to delete whatever mass email about your latest one-man show I get this week before I read it.

Now, that I've gotten that out of the way, here are some things I should recommend - because I haven't done so in a long while:

Broadway Dance Center: Get in on the ground floor while you can on this one. According to All That Chat (which has become my foremost source of news and reviews on the theatre front - sorry, Playbill), the official closing date of the old site is December 17. Which, incidentally, may be my last class date there. Or until they find a new space.

Do it on a whim. It's a great place to get some cardio and un-tense your muscles without having to wait for the elliptical. The only caveat is that you may be partnered to dance with someone who just beat you for a great role. The plus is that she'll probably have to leave a half-hour into the class anyway, because of call time.

I'm taking a theatre dance class there now. Best $18 I ever spent. Yesterday, we learned a routine from the forgotten Cy Coleman musical The Life. I don't think there's anything better to hear on a lazy Saturday evening than, "These are some real seedy characters you're going to be playing - so, all of the guys are going to be pimps, and the girls are going to be their whores!" Fan-tastic.

When we weren't dancing, the instructor gave us dollar bills to wave at the "prostitutes," so we could "solicit" them. I didn't feel any need to look good or get the steps right. Most of the dance moves I tend to get right are by accident ninety percent of the time anyway, and it wasn't too difficult to learn.

The other great thing about the location is that it's by a couple of art and stationary stores. Do yourself a favor: Get there early, sign up for a class, and, if you're so inclined to the creative impulse, go shopping for writing and illustration supplies like I did.

Holiday non-dairy creamers: I usually only use liquid Coffee-Mate, but this was too good a deal to pass up. Mostly for the discount. There's no better way to ring in the cold, cold winter than by drinking a fresh morning cup of joe that tastes like Mocha Peppermint, Eggnog Spice, or Pumpkin Pie. Sure beats the chalky aftertaste of most regular creamers.

"Titey": Last night I watched The Best of Saturday T.V. Funhouse on DVD. Most people don't get why I always answer "Robert Smigel" as the one Not Ready for Prime Time Player whose career I'd most like to emulate. Now they can.

Also, it's a headache whenever I say "George Coe" instead, and I have to explain to them why he mysteriously disappeared, Cousin Oliver-like, after the first episode of "SNL." He was also the guy who sang "Sorry-Grateful" in the original Company. And I'd probably link to that video of Brooks Ashmanskas essaying his role in a one-night-only revival of On the Twentieth Century right now, but AEA has removed it from YouTube. Partly because it infringed on a number of copyrights, and probably because "I Rise Again" really is one of the weaker numbers in that show and doesn't show off much of Brooks' awesome range.

Anyway, if it wasn't for this DVD, I would have totally forgotten about one of my favorite "Funhouse" cartoons ever: "Titey." Basically, on the heels of the movie and musical Titanic, Smigel responded to the hype by creating a Disney-perfect parody that's half Beauty and the Beast, half The Little Mermaid (with a cameo by Flounder!), and all brilliance. Featuring dancing lifeboats, celebrity voices, a plucky talking ship that won't sink, and...Anne Frank? Anachronism, thy name is Disney.

All of the best non-Titanic parodies are included here, by the way: "The Disney Vault," the eerily prophetic "Bambi 2002," and the long-banned "Conspiracy Theory ROCK!" There are also some great holiday 'toons ("Peanuts Christmas," "The Narrator That Ruined Christmas," "Santa and the States" - with a commentary by the real Al Franken! - and my personal fave, "Christmastime for the Jews"). I've been singing "Why did they take Norm MacDonald away? 'Cause he made too many jokes about O.J." all weekend long.

Me and My Girl: Nobody remembers this musical, and it's only so rare they revive it in summer stock (and we see tons of Southern and Midwest teenagers attempt middle-upper-crust Brit accents - hi-larious), but it's still a knee-slapping show with a great, funny soundtrack. Monty Python meets Max Fleischer meets the roaring twenties.

The original cast reunited recently. Almost all of them. Send Jane Connell your prayers and wishes.

And, also, listen to the CD.

Do the Lambeth Walk on the Comments board!

Do it!

A minor side note: I may actually have to remove that Comments board. I was going through some of my old posts last night, and, besides realizing how much I've developed from an otherwise perpetually happy blogger into a total crank, I've discovered that, apparently, someone didn't find my review of the soundtrack to Bernarda Alba very funny.

And something bad happens when people don't think I'm funny (cue theme music from "The Hulk").

You say that just once you'd like your hamburger hot and your lettuce and tomato cool and crisp ALL AT THE SAME TIME?

My mother is worried about me.

I've suddenly developed a recent fascination with Jason Alexander. I want to know why, more often than not, he turns out to be the single most redeeming thing about...well, just about everything he's been involved with.

And you know he's probably had some evil plan all along, too.

He's George. George Can'tStandYa. Believe it or not, George isn't at home. Koko the Monkey, Gammy (but never T-Bone), and, in some cases believed to be...Larry David.

No matter what, he will always be known as George Costanza.

So why can't I stop watching this video on YouTube?

George Costanza is in that commercial. Jason Alexander (a.k.a. Jason Scott Greenspan) is a song-and-dance man, who appeared in Jerome Robbins' Broadway, Forbidden Broadway, and, when he was still in college, the original teenage cast of Merrily We Roll Along. You can actually hear him belting over most of the other youthful cast on that recording. And he still sounds like George at an impressionably young age - even if he does play a kid playing an adult playing a Hollywood record producer.

So what has George been doing since The Greatest Sitcom Ever went off the air? Well, he's built up a pretty impressive body of work, according to that Wikipedia entry. But George Costanza kind of is his "thing," isn't it? You can't watch that video with an open mind towards pop culture and not see it as, "Wait a minute...is that George Costanza? Apparently, he used to be really skinny! And he had a lot of hair!"

My theory about George's Evil Master Plan is, what do you do after "Seinfeld" besides "whatever the fark you want"? And, if I was even half as hugely successful as that obnoxious character, I would do whatever the fark I wanted - as long as it distanced me from him as much as possible: Get married and have kids, direct a production of Sunday in the Park with George, get a magic act together and perform it at the Gothic Castle. That does totally make sense: Given that it really sounds oddly similar to my own pathetic life's aspirations.

So, how did I not know that George Costanza was a big musical theatre guy? It just seemed to elude me. In maybe one or two moments on "Seinfeld," he had a chance to show off his angelic singing voice (and he supposedly lobbied for Jerry to write an all-musical episode) but it's not like he ever did full-on choreography a la that video. Or "Dr. Schechter," for that matter.

I'm not saying it's because he started out on Broadway, which he did, or that he eased into it after he made a name for himself to capitalize on that, which he also did. But what was his deal, anyway? Did he think, if he played this deplorably lovable charater for ten years, the 3 people who saw The Rink would forget about his drag turn in that show? Or what? Did the path just lay itself out for him like that sketch he did on "Muppets Tonight," when, after being doused in flames (don't ask) he went (I'm paraphrasing here): "Now I'm just a short, neurotic bald guy with a New York accent! Where could I possibly fit in?" (Kermit: "A T.V. sitcom?" ba-dump!). Or was it closer to when he hosted "Saturday Night Live," and insisted on singing "I'm Flying" for his opening monologue in a full Peter Pan getup, and everyone said no - for the obvious reasons? Did he just want to become as famous as that crazy-schlubby Rold Gold Pretzels-plugging personality as he could have possibly been to the point where no one could have possibly told him he was too short, fat, bald, and Jewish to play Albert Peterson? Which came first: The Costanza or the egg?

I mean, I guess it does make sense when you weigh him up against some of the other all-time comedic greats. Phil Silvers, Sid Caesar. Nathan Lane started out doing straight dramatic plays like The Film Society when he was younger, and Michael McKean didn't do his first musical until about 20 years after Spinal Tap.

I recently fell in love with Alexander's voice on the cast recording to The Rink. He plays "Good old Lenny," among many other characters that are way too inappropriate for his age range and type. He also sings "Marry Me" to Chita Rivera, which is both beautiful and creepy. But I didn't really know it was him. Discovering that Jason Alexander's voice was the same voice on "Marry Me" was just like another recent discovery that the man who sings "I Sleep with Everyone" on the Forbidden Broadway's Greatest Hits CD really looks like this. Except this was much different. Non-singing, non-Broadway, non-jazz-handing-over-burgers Jason Alexander is very much in the public consciousness. McDLT aside, he has an image to uphold, and that image most definitely ain't named Uncle Fausto.

So, it was really more like eating a sweet chocolate bar and then finding out that liking it is bad for you, because of the calorie count. At least, he's not someone I fundamentally should be obsessed with, but I really can't turn away because he's just so darn enigmatic. Which may or may not explain Jason Alexander's career as a whole; hey, if anything, it definitely explains a particularly vast rift between "Seinfeld" and the McDLT.

Get hot and cool on the Comments board!

Sickly Ballroom

All right, I give. I’m biased. I have a huge crush on Romany Malco.

It’s obvious the year is winding down. The commercials now are less “Walk Like a maaaan” and “How does it feel to be ohn yar awwwwhn!” and more “hey la hey la ‘cause Hess is back!” and “it’s the Radio City…Chrissssstmaaaaas shoooooowwwww!”

Also, “Dancing with the Stars” is winding down to a close. And, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, Follies is coming back in its stead.

God willing, the wonderful Michael McGrath will be Buddy Plummer.

And the suspense is killing me. A Google News search on “Michael McGrath” only yielded this, as of last night. On the other hand, thank IMDB for reminding me of his character on “Mathnet.”

Maybe the Bergeron could play Dimitri Weissmann.

And then, there’s the obligatory presence of George Lopez. You don’t know why he’s always there in the same exact spot, but you know he’s supposed to be there for some cosmic reason? Man, if “Dancing with the Stars” was Lord of the Rings? He’d be Figwit.

I’d like to applaud this show for not treating its celebrities like crap. Did anyone else notice that, in this particular episode, they introduced each contestant “and his partner,” instead of the usual “and his professional partner”? That means Emmitt’s officially a professional dancer now!

So, it's nice to see them being treated with some respect.

My mom still can’t get over the first season outcome: “Who really won, anyway? Kelly or John? Between you and me, I think it was rigged!” We both agree that, after this episode, Mario had it coming. When he said he wasn’t a professional dancer? And just an actor and T.V. host who doesn’t really know how to dance? Bull…crap. No “actor” I know can do a pick-and-roll.

Ma Havoc caught on to this too: She said that while Emmitt’s weight loss from the beginning was increasingly dramatic and noticeable, Mario didn’t lose any weight because he’s had a dancer’s build the entire time.

Although, in some twisted sense Elizabeth Berkley was right: No matter what happens, this will most likely be the highlight of his entire life.

He is no longer “Saved by Bell" Mario Lopez. Now, he's "Dancing with the Stars" Mario Lopez. This could be like his celebrity coming-out party, his Star Mitzvah.

So, in a way, this show is really doing something right for presumed-dead careers. At least, it’s responsible for getting us, the viewers, to know these “stars” we would probably never even refer to on a full-name basis on a first-name basis only.

Now, on with ze show.

No musical guests. No SWOP demonstrations. Just show.

I have to say, they did a most excellent job recapping the season that was. Never mind that the judges chose Emmitt's "Sir Duke" and Mario's freestyle as the routines most deserving of being reran and the Slim-Fast guinea pig woman lost a ton of weight - it really did justice to how much this show was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. And I especially digged the "A Day in the Life" guitar chord they used to close out the video retrospectives. Very L'Artiste est Mort.

My roommate: "Okay, so are you just obsessed, somewhat obsessed, or totally obsesssed?"

All right. Once the crappy narration about who got kicked off what week was done with, they brought out all of the eliminated contestants to do small chunklets of the dance routines...that got them kicked off the show. That was both cruel and celebratory. But, since it took out most of the prime real estate on the hour results show, I might as well recap who did what.

Tucker (you know who) went first and did a very clunky step to "Dancing in the Streets." He didn't use the chair or any other crazy props, and he didn't wear his bowtie. At least he tried to dance, unlike some past contestants on this show. Still, it's not like he was Master P. Tucker moved, but he was about five beats off from whatever the band was playing. Then Shanna came out in some weird fringy thing. I love how the choice of song was "Jump" by Kris Kross, and they had the presumed-dead backup singer girl "rap" it. Between this, "It Takes Two," and "Can't Touch This," it was like the "One-off street dancing class Rick took once in the late eighties" Greatest Hits show. Then Harry did his foxtrot to "Lust for Life" by Iggy Pop. Really! It took me about ten seconds to recognize that one, too.

It's weird. You'd never think a dude who seems as dapper as Harry Hamlin would be a really terrible dancer. He has no rhythm whatsoever. And if he could tame Bubo the electronic owl, how come he can't master the pasodoble? God!

The roommate: "Totally obsessed."

And then Vivica came out to do her pasodoble to Bon Jovi before everyone joined in at the end, raising their fists in solidarity...or perhaps a minor tribute to Derek Smalls.

Yeah, maybe the "Dancing with the Stars" road show wasn't such a tantalizing idea after all. I suddenly don't want to buy tickets anymore if the whole thing is going to be like that, with the cheesy endings and photo-op shit. It's like when you see the American Idols live, and realize that ninety percent of the whole show is going to consist of unnecessary Motown tributes and Beach Boys medleys - replete with amateurish, jazz-handing choreography. To quote Company, wait for me, Harry! Wait for me!

Instead of taking on where Jerry's tribute to his doppelganger (er, daughter) left off, the Bergeron introduced Willa and Maksim's routine to "Every Breath You Take," which, in retrospect, was pretty freaking bad. Sara did her country jive to "These Boots are Made for Walkin'" and the audience went crazy. Good on her for showing up and dancing! Well, given the circumstances. Although, my mother tells me she showed her face on the CMA Awards this week and sang, so I guess it's less impressive. Still, she's reaching a wider audience...or, at least, me. Then Jerry did his Latin routine with the maracas and crazy facial expressions. That audience loved him, too! And Monique and Louis did their acrobatics-heavy jive to "The Heat is On," ending with Joey foxtrotting all over Gene Kelly's grave. Um, I mean doing his stupid routine to "Singin' in the Rain." Actually, I kinda liked watching it this time around. Maybe because it was shorter. Sue me. And then everyone danced with him and stepped forward for some stock wedding-cake-ready plastic group pose. Jerry just couldn't stop laughing. Well, he can't belive it either.

We were also treated to a funny video with the friends and family (Roger Staubach! Troy Aikman! Uh...Elizabeth Berkley?) of the finalists oohing and ahhing over how great they've become at dancing.

Anyway, after all was said and done, we got through all of the crappy sentimental tributes to Emmitt's bygone spare tire, we saw Emmitt winning and the Orchestra leading a rousing lounge arrangement of (what else?) "We are the Champions."

I'm so glad somebody else noticed Mario's bitch face at the end.

All in all, it was a great season, and I'm glad I watched. It's not so rare that I get addicted to T.V. shows or general pop-culture ephemera - but it is rare that it becomes something as popular and cheesetastic as "Dancing with the Stars." Even though I came to it pretty late in the game, I'm glad I stuck around. At least we kept Jerry on for as long as we did. And Joey didn't win! Emmitt did! He even wore Hammer pants and did scissor kicks. So, yay us! I'd like to say that right now I truly love America. And I. Love. Dance.

So, I leave you now with one of my fave dance routines ever:



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"The book and score would fail a college course on musical theatre."

It's Grease! meets slime. Slime wins.



Joel Siegel hits all the abysmal marks on a show I've been wanting to see for way too long: Carrie: The Musical. Now, thanks to the miracle of YouTube...everyone can! Just about everything in this 16-performance curiosity really is horribly conceived, from the direction, to the sets and costumes, to the music, to the choreography (by Debbie Allen?!) and, yes, even the casting. Still, dig that archival b-roll footage of Gene Anthony Ray as Billy!

Yes. It's true. Leroy played the bad guy.

My head, it shakes in disbelief.

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"This is how black people see white people. Now I understand."

And other quick bits:

Chalk it up to a bad mood on my part: Here's why only one other person didn't like Striking 12.

Gutenberg! The Musical holds open understudy audition. Plays opposite [title of show], Forbidden Broadway and The Musical of Musicals! in long-running Off-Broadway musical parody Heaven.

Follies casting is officially announced on Friday. My money's still resting on Cerveris as Ben! Of course, what do I know. I thought Jim Dale would win another Tony Award this year.

Lovable plus-size divas band together tonight. Make for a greater good.

Borat cast as Pirelli in Sweeney Todd movie. Make for sexytime with ladies. Incidentally, my mom still thinks this role is always played by a lady.

Timely Bar Mitzvah satire doesn't die. It multiplies.

Urinetown creators target two shoestring regional productions of their show for an infringement lawsuit. And not, y'know, the other 3, 541, 098, 373 shoestring regional productions of Urinetown going up this month.

Riedel's rundown of "Scary" Poppins, including the best description of a climactic scene in a currently-previewing Broadway musical ever: Soon all of the toys, looking as if they were designed by zombie horror movie-maker George Romero and acting like graduates of the John Wayne Gacy School of Clowning, come to life.

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PROPER!!

This is the best season finale ever!

Okay...never mind that it seems even a little sketch that Emmitt and Mario are now deadlocked in a serious tie. It's up to you, America! Don't let us...okay, me, down!

Yeah, I'll admit it. The whole thing seemed more than a little staged at times. I mean, of all the songs in the world? "Sir Duke"? It just doesn't smack of "happy coincidence" material to me. Because? "Sir Duke"? Nothing screams "crappy 60s variety show" more blatantly. Or stupidly.

Or when they showed the over! Dramatic! Video! Footage! It was actually kind of creepy to see Mario making out with Karina Smirnoff - and then and only then really, really hilarious right after that to watch footage of him dropping her on the head. It's like they've got the most sadomasochistic "Dancing with the Stars" relationship ever. Is this Stricly Ballroom now? Are they supposed to be the evil couple?

You know what Emmitt's dancing reminded me of tonight? Romany Malco during the end credits of The 40-Year-Old Virgin. And, to all you harpists out there wondering, yes, I am well aware that Malco once starred as the title character in 2 Legit: The MC Hammer Story, so just shut up about it. I was surprised he didn't do his samba to "Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In."

What I'm saying is that Romany Malco in The 40-Year-Old Virgin is one of the few things about movies today that is always guaranteed to put a big, fat smile on my face. And if that's who Emmitt wanted to channel, so be it. Although, the arrangement they used for his freestyle sounded more than a little like the scene in American Dreamz where Omer's cousin is singing "Super Freak" in his basement.

He wore Hammer Pants. Enough said. He's Ready for Prime Time, indeed. And I think Bruno Tonioli's transformation into Strong Bad is now officially complete.

The only thing Emmitt didn't do to make it work was go "ohh-ho, oh-oh, oh-oh!"

Sweetie cakes.

I really think Emmitt is going to win this whole thing. Even though Mario killed at the last minute, it still wasn't enough to stop the juggernaut that is Mssr. Smith. And this is exactly why a show like this, in my opinion, kicks the ass of a show like "American Idol." It shows people being normal people (Except for Joey), but they have this added incentive of being "celebrities" (Except for Joey.) That just makes it even more entertaining to watch them trip and fall on their faces - and then succeed at doing something as difficult as dancing. Also, they're all so darn nice!

A partial note: I am sorely disappointed that a mere Google Blog Search on "Dancing with the Stars" doesn't even turn up my blog on the first few pages. I would really like to think someone other than my mom was reading this. That might explain why Doug Benson, of all people, seemed to be quoting something I said about those annoying ads for "Show Me the Money": "That's a big piece of 'Shat. Looks like NBC 'Shat a big one." Or something to that effect. Maybe it's because reality shows are so out of my element as a writer. Honestly, I should be more occupied with the fact that Dunkin' Donuts started selling Babka than this crap.

So, here's something they did to shake things up: Having Mario and Emmitt dance to the same exact song in round one. In a video interview, they showed Len Goodman saying that "they" "chose" "Sir Duke," because you can do just about any ballroom dance to it. And it was just a happy coincidence that both Mario and Emmitt chose to do the samba.

I don't know about you, but it really smacked of those episodes of "American Idol," where they try to make you believe that either one of the judges "chose" a specific song for each of the finalists - when you know that whatever song any of the judges would have chosen for any of the contestants would have been nonsensical and completely out of their ranges. It's just idiotic. I think we all know the songs were probably chosen by that creepy guy with the chin waddle who always sits in different audience seats at every commercial break and never, ever cracks a smile or looks toward the camera (Am I the only one who's ever noticed him? Scary!). And that they try to be more in touch with their young, hip audience by having the contestants sing such awesome, kick-ass rock and R&B songs as "Weekend in New England," "Something About the Way You Look Tonight," and "Climb Every Mountain." I don't think I've ever heard anyone on "American Idol" perform a song by Beyonce or Green Day.

And this is exactly why I can't even watch "American Idol" anymore. When they use terminally unhip music on "Dancing with the Stars," at least they know people don't really listen to that crap anymore, and thus play the cheesetastic lounge delivery of it for ironic laughs. "American Idol" actually seems to believe this off-putting delusion that everyone under the age of 42 is obsessed with Barry Manilow. Unlike "American Idol," "DWtS" doesn't seem like it's remote-broadcast from my crazy, ridiculously out-of-touch uncle's frontal lobe.

Did you see that guy in the safari outfit in the front row cheering for Emmitt? He looked so lost and out-of-place. Dress for the occasion, you dip! I saw a guy in a safari outfit once at The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee and he got called up to participate in the show. After Derrick Baskin sang "Prayer of the Comfort Counselor," he went, "Safari dude! Yeaaaah!"

I mean, I can understand wearing that to a Broadway show, of all things. But the "Dancing with the Stars" finals? Show some respect, safari dude!

Here's why I think Emmitt will win: He best exemplifies everything this show is supposed to be for its viewers; normal, rhythm-challenged people like us trying to dance, having shitloads of training in only a short amount of time, and then becoming really, really good.

When they showed that footage of him at the beginning? I know pretty much everyone on this show has lost a lot of weight from the dancing, but Emmitt's weight loss actually looks really dramatic. Especially since he had more fat than muscle on his body - for a retired football player, anyway. Someone told him to cut out the Babka.

Okay. The people were cheering loudly for him from start to finish, and booed Bruno's slam at him toward the end of the show. Also, he just loves to dance!

Perhaps it was Emmitt's Maxwell Demon-meets-Leprechaun getup in the first routine that sealed his victory. Okay. Weisslers, if you are reading this, I have this great idea for what Emmitt should do after the show is over. Two words: Billy Flynn. Who cares if he can't sing? At least you know he'll look really, really happy doing all that Fosse choreography.

Len Goodman's making like everything is really graphic anal sex. When he talked about whether the audience would prefer Emmitt or Mario - he said he preferred Mario because he was "aggressive." And he penetrated the myth?

Why is G.O.B. in a movie? And why does it look terrible?

Mario did fine. I guess because Joey's off the show now, the video clips made Mario look even more evil by proxy.

I actually liked Emmitt's "Sir Duke" better than Mario's. Mario's was pretty bland, and not at all helped by that "footage" of Mario and his partner walking in on Emmitt and his partner rehearsing on the set. I guess it's just inherently funny to see Mario Lopez and Emmitt Smith act friendly/talk shit about each other entirely in ballroom jargon. Smackdown!

For the second round, they each did the routine they liked best from the previous round. Yeah, I don't know about you, but did the Bergeron tone down his jokes? He just served little purpose other than to introduce each dance routine and point out the sad, sorry, bored-looking ex-contestants in the audience...sans witty banter.

Poor Joey Mac. Not only was he not involved in the best season ever, they're still at a loss on how to actually describe what he does for a living. Wasn't he in some production of The Baker's Wife once? Has anyone actually heard of The Baker's Wife other than me, because I still need to return that CD to the library? I really miss that old intro where they had all of the "celebrities" on the show pose with props that somehow illustrate what their various claims to fame are - albeit while wearing full ballroom costumes. Stacie Keibler in a wrestling ring or Jerry Rice clutching a football in a tuxedo. That would have been awesome!

I never liked the interview girl. She really seemed to trip over her words after she interviewed Emmitt. I know she probably meant to say that he looked "magically delicious." Either that or she's a cannibal! Did you see that they got rid of one of the singers in the "Dancing with the Stars" orchestra? She ate her!

Anyway, then came the part we were all waiting for, the freestyle. Mario's routine was pure "old-school," and he did every breakdancing move you could possibly extract from a Michael Jackson 80s child star Pepsi commercial. Even the pop-n-lock.

He did wear all-white. And a hood under his jacket.

My mom doesn't want Mario to win, and she agrees with me that Emmitt should take the whole crappily-assembled trophy: It's the least they could do after letting Jerry Rice get so far in the game. She put her choice this way: "I think everyone knows that Mario isn't fooling anyone. He's a professional dancer! He always has been! He's been doing this since he was a kid and the last thing he needs is to win a professional dancing contest!" Way to kick it old-school. Although, I have to admit, it was kind of funny to hear the "DwtS"O's interpretation of "It Takes Two" by Rob Base and DJ E-Z Rock. Yeah! Whoo!

They showed a clip of last season's winner, Drew Lachey, and his winning freestyle routine: Some weird, conceptual thing to "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" that consisted almost solely of Drew wearing leather chaps and humping Cheryl Burke on the floor.

In the video footage, Drew supposedly dropped by to watch Emmitt and Cheryl rehearse their freestyle, and I guess he seemed more than a little spiteful. I mean, if you were only known for this show, and being Nick Lachey's brother, wouldn't you be pissed off, too?

Anyway, Mario pulled out all the stops, but it was too little, too late.

At least I got to see George Hamilton again.

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But they already did this with "Hamlet."

Wells, Williams to Wash Up in Gilligan's Island: The Musical in Florida


Image Courtesy of Gilligan's Island: The Musical Official Web Site

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I've been to the moon and back. And you know what they got up there? Blue Crystal!

All right. I give. I forgot that tonight is "the finale."

Everyone's been ripping off my jokes about "Dancing with the Stars," and I try to post them as early as possible, so as to stake my early, nonexistent claim on them. It's like whenever someone mentions how Joey resembles the gay nephew on "Ugly Betty," or how Jerry resembles his daughter, or how Mario resembles...A.C. Slater...I just feel some sense of ownership. Maybe next time I should copyright them and get it over with.

Since I wasn't working this morning (Victoria's Secret found someone else to stuff goodie bags today), I caught "The View," for once.

I love what Rosie's done with it. The show is now back to what it was probably supposed to be: funny-scary, as opposed to just plain scary.

She's using her Rosie powers for good instead of evil. She's promoting a queer liberal agenda, but not being an asshole about it. She's also staring down Elizabeth the inarticulate the neo-Nazi with class and grace. And she's also getting the people to side with her, because? Seriously? Against Elizabeth? Case closed.

She's also promoting things she likes. She plugged the T.V. show "Cash Cab," and said it definitely wasn't all staged, because her good friend Jenn Cody ("She's married to Hunter Foster!") was on it. She wants the Cab to pick up her and the other "View" ladies from work, so she can be loud and answer all the obnoxious trivia questions for them.

In a truly "Best Week Ever" In Case You Missed It-worthy moment, Rosie professed her onscreen love for this product:

I kinda wished I wasn't in the shower when I missed that - then again, my contacts weren't in when she demonstrated how to apply the Sassynip, so way for me to avoid irreperable retinal damage. After that, I can imagine Rosie's aborted audition reel for the role of the psychic in Mallrats...but I probably wouldn't want to.

Then I had to take some important phone calls. When I came back, I saw Rosie getting down with Boogaloo Shrimp in front of some paper Hawaiian luau curtains and a bunch of hyperactive yet multicultural Disney teens in matching t-shirts.

It was actually the cast of the Broadway musical Tarzan. Chester Gregory II, who plays Terk in the show, sang a "duet" with Rosie, who did the voice of Terk in the movie. Although, I probably wouldn't call it a "duet," because Rosie didn't sing. She just played the bongos.

Anyway, it was a song called "Trashin' the Camp." I shit you not. There is a song in Tarzan called "Trashin' the Camp," and the lyrics consist only of the following words: "Shabba doo sha la la shabba deeeee!" What I want to know is, how can Phil Collins write a song called "Trashin' the Camp" and still make it sound like late-era Genesis? Big Phil's letting us all down, people!

Boogaloo, er, I mean, Chester, was right on, though. If the rumors are true, and they brought back The Rink, he'd make a kick-ass Dino.

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Blind Items are Fun!

And, if they're about Follies, even more fun!

I confess I have a fascination with City Center Encores! as a whole. If it wasn't for them, people wouldn't hear of shows like Tenderloin and Purlie outside of my dad's basement office hutch.

Anyway, it's rare when they do Sondheim shows. And when it's a really well-known Sondheim show, like Follies, that's kind of cool. It's a terrible, dumb, poorly-conceived, "you people are seriously walking on hot coals" shit-type idea, and I can't stop reading up on rumors about it. I mean, the stuntcasting! The budget! The presumed clashing of egos not seen since the last time they did Follies at Lincoln Center and caught the whole thing on tape!

Here's what we do know. Victoria Clark is playing Sally Durant Plummer. Casey Nicholaw is directing, which probably means Mrs. Tottendale and Underling the Butler singing "Rain on the Roof" while doing a series of pointless spit-takes (I kid because I love).

If Sparky's right on, it means what I think: Cybill Shepherd is out as Carlotta Campion and Christine Baranski is in (this is the role Carol Burnett played last time, so it sounds totally unsurprising and weirdly good to me). Also, Donna Murphy and Michael McGrath, both of whom have Encores! credits up the ying-yang dating back to the Gold Rush days, are officially signed on as Phyllis Stone and Buddy Plummer.

And I honestly don't know how I feel about that. I thought McGrath's casting was wonderfully inevitable, to tell the truth, but more than some 'Chat-ters disagree with me.

And while I agree that he's not a "name" star - although he was nominated for a Tony Award, which sort of makes you a rock star in the theatre world and sort of doesn't - he really deserves to be cast as Buddy. It's a perfect role for him. It's in a perfect setting. All things considered, it's a happy coincidence that most of the roles he's played are already in Buddy's mold, only they don't have that underlying sense of desperation and dread. I don't know about you, but I'd like to see an all-around nice guy like McGrath toy around with his dark side.

I also confess I'm a bit biased because he plays Stephen Sondheim on the Forbidden Broadway CD. Incidentally, this isn't the one with "Buddy's Blues" on it. That was actually a different guy on a different Forbidden Broadway CD!

And "Sondheim's Blues" is still my favorite FB parody ever. Aside from "Grim Hotel" and "P.C. Show Boat," regardless.

Goddamn it, I love those CDs.

Anyway, that's three of the fabulously damaged four they have in the show, which leaves only one with a vacant spot to fill. That makes it open season:

There's an offer out to Ben. Not the actor previously rumored. They're aiming bigger.

The actor "previously rumored" was Tony nominee (and Tony nominating committee member) Stephen Bogardus. Which makes me think, good thing this isn't actually going to be on Broadway. If I was him, I'd nominate something like Times They are a'Changin' just to spite it.

Here are who I think "bigger" means (again, this is City Center Encores! Usually the "biggest" they can aim is Martin Short), as we're on the subject of "actors of a certain age" who can handle one Benjamin Stone:

Michael Cerveris - He's played just about every Sondheim-baritone role out there (Sweeney, Karl-Magnus) and playing Ben, who gets to have a nervous breakdown at the end of the show, would be a capper he so wonderfully deserves. Bonus points: He's done Encores! before (The Apple Tree), and he's worked with Clark (Titanic). Sondheim loves him, and he's about as "big" as star Broadway can get now. Also, Sweeney closed and he needs something to do, no matter how frivolous the commitment would be - about two weeks, tops. I wouldn't take his singing "The Road You Didn't Take" at Broadway Under the Stars this year as a minor hint.

Brian Stokes Mitchell - Cerveris' loss is Mitchell's gain: Whenever Encores! casts a well-known baritone in a lead role, and I ask my dad to guess, he always says Mitchell first. Also, the race-blind casting thing, in this show, would be considered pretty innovative for its time. I can't even think of the last time they used it. Maybe when Pearl Bailey was still alive?

Peter Gallagher - Assuming all of the episodes for this season of "The OC" are already filmed, he's usually the guy they call when they need a proven "name." Listen to his Pal Joey for any further proof. He's tops.

Malcolm Gets - Another name raided from the Encores! casting folder. He can fit the age and the type, but would anyone care?

James Naughton - The last time he starred in an Encores! show, it moved to Broadway, never stopped running, and he won a Tony Award for it.

Terrence Mann - He played Sheriff Earl Dodge in the Whorehouse benefit concert and hasn't exactly been hiding under a rock this whole time. He's also a two-time Tony nominee, and should at least get back to Broadway if his wife is already there.

Martin Short - See above.

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I have things to sell you.

And they're now on Ebay!

All this useless, embarrassing stuff, and I'm finally selling it for $.

How embarrassing? I named my seller handle after "Homeboys in Outer Space."

I have officially become The 40-Year-Old Virgin.

"Nip/Tuck" really isn't THAT bad.

Even if it is pretty trashy in retrospect.

Also, I saw American Dreamz and loved it. It's basically a parody of "American Idol," except they really do get every last detail right (the winner's song "American Dreamz with a Z" and its surprise gospel choir backup singers are a scream). I was laughing, for the most part, but it was pretty uncomfortable laughter: One of the major plot points revolves around the producers having an Arab terrorist-in-training and a Jewish cantor competing against each other on the show, and another only promotes the conspiracy theory that Dick Cheney is doing all of the work for W by prompting him on what to say. Don't watch this movie as a double feature with Borat. It will only remind you of how much is wrong with America right now.

Thank goodness we still have Stephen King to set us right.

And he's actually still writing!

Dirty Fingernails iz Real

Again, way to go, America! I love this country.

I was also right about the Pet Shop Boys performing "West End Girls" (Well, what else would they have done?). Although I think the truly awesome thing about that song is that the entire backing instrumentation is performed on a synthesizer. Harold Wheeler and the "DwTS"O be damned!

So, I sit here catching up on a belated results show (Except for the last 3 minutes. America, that was GOLDEN.),contemplating the ways of the world, and sipping an eggnog latte. Don't ask me why. I have a morbid fascination with eggnog...and I'm Jewish.

A few things I've realized since this season began. Yes, there is an Il Divo. They suck. Yes, there is something worse than Il Divo, and it's The Ten Tenors. And it's actually a good thing to mention this show as your favorite in job interviews. Bosses tend to err on the side of the dance.

Let's see, what else? The former President of Namibia said they were all winners. Except for Joey. And the dancers performed a rather crappy "tribute" to James Bond in the name of promoting the new Bond movie, Casino Royale. SWOP it ain't. The movie or the tribute.

Arguably, the best thing about this episode was the sneak preview footage of the upcoming "Dancing with the Stars" road show, appropriately sponsored by Slim-Fast(TM) They dance as a group. They argue about whose season was the best. Joey Mac is an asswipe. They gripe about how Drew Lachey and Joey are going to be doing the bus-and-truck thing with them as soon as they aren't busy. That means Drew'd better have a good excuse!

And now, to do a cheesy group jive choreographed by Louis Van Amstel - who's also choreographing the tour, total must-see and I am so getting my tickets man if they ever come to Manhattan yeeeeeah!!! - Joey MacIntyre, Lisa Rinna, Harry Hamlin, Willa Ford, and their professional partners, all of whom will be appearing on the tour. It's an appropriate sneak preview of what's going to cost me some pretty cash if they come to New York City.

Yeah. I got an e-mail about the non-Equity national tour of The Producers today and it made me sick. I really don't know how to react to a photograph of some twelve-year-old dressed as Ulla other than projectile vomiting, actually. Why are they so hard up for cash they have to make this show into something that it really isn't? Scaled-down and childish and lame? Also, I resent how they're advertising it as a Tony-winning musical, when, you know, you have to actually be in a union to win a Tony? Although, maybe there's some twisted logic to that choice.

Did I ever mention the post-Kirstie Alley Slim-Fast(TM) challenge poster child they always showed updates on with this show? I don't think I did. Anyway, she won a trophy of some sort.

We also got treated to a retrospective of this season as the Best Ever with talking heads like Jimmy Kimmel and Rachael Ray providing commentary on Shanna's smackdown on Paris (didn't know about that - thanks, TMZ!), and Sara's terrible divorce. They offered their choices for the winner: Mostly Mario. And Joey. Oops.

We also got to see that clip of Jerry's homely daughter again. Score!

Emmitt should win. Mario will. End of story.

E-Mail to a Young Actress, or, Ask Havoc

I didn't vote.

But way to go, America! Thank you so much for choosing Emmitt over Joey!

As per my own civic duty, a young performer recently shot me the following query via e-mail:

I have a question. I'm going to the chorus call for The Wedding Singer on Monday. The call is 2pm for females. ... When the call has been 10am I usually get there around 5:30 so that I'm early on the non-eq list... should I do the same thing even though the call is 2pm? or should I get there around 11 or 12 to sign up b/c the call is at 2pm? Any idea? Thanks!!!

Since I am usually so good with e-mails, this was my response:

Hmm...this type of stuff usually isn't my bag (i.e. if you're not in the union, don't go to union auditions), but, since it's a quick question and I'm already at my computer, I'll try to answer this question as best I can.

First off, is this a dancer call or a singer call? It makes a huge difference either way. If it's a dance call, you'll stand a great chance of being seen, since they call in groups en masse, and usually they have time to see non-Equity performers at the end of the day. And, if it's a singer call, especially for a show as popular as The Wedding Singer, you'll have much less of a chance of being seen, regardless of whether you're first on the list, you're willing to wait on line all day, et cetera. If you do get to sing at 5:30 PM or so, congratulations! That rarely ever happens. But don't take it too hard if they tell you you're too short or tall or young to be in this show...there's really no such thing as being "too young" for this, now is there? If it's an Equity call, then you're probably not even auditioning for the casting director. Sometimes you only get to audition for a casting associate (not the CD, and definitely not the director), or even a casting intern, and sometimes you're singing for a guy who pushes a broom at the rehearsal studio/audition center.

If you're used to waking up, and getting there by 5:00 AM, and actually having the energy to act/sing/dance all day, I'd say go as early as you can. Just don't be an idiot. Don't go if you know you're going to be narcoleptic at any point in the day. And, if there's a sign-up sheet for females, know your number and where it's going to be in terms of how many Equity members show up. A show like The Wedding Singer is closing within the next two months, so chances are they aren't so much looking for immediate replacements for the Broadway company as they are scouting for the inevitable Wedding Singer Equity national tour. It has a pretty large cult fanbase, and the cult tends to include desperate actors. So, careful where you tread. Don't listen to whatever unsolicited advice actors give you on how to forward your career! Um...oops.

Also, remember that Equity calls are procedural and only mandated by law. I've had friends whose agents submitted them for The Wedding Singer outside of the EPA's, and it didn't make a difference either way. A show like Wicked or Hairspray usually doesn't have any openings when they schedule their Equity calls and, in some cases, only half-assing it. They are required by the union to have annual cattle calls anyway, even if they aren't hiring at the time, and the chances of getting cast in a show (even if you are in the union) from an Equity call is very slim. There is a reason the President of the Actors' Union is a labor lawyer. And it's very good to read up on those laws just before you join, even if you're able to get in early. And sometimes the casting of a show is so particular, they're required to have open calls for Equity and non-Equity performers, and THEN people stand much better chances at getting cast in Broadway shows from those!

Now that I've stopped rambling on about auditions and my stupid opinions on them, I'd say go for the experience anyway. It's always something truly great to behold if you're really a fan of the show. And it's always fun to see delusional actors running around in eighties costumes, if they're actually dumb enough to "dress the part." And if you're also a writer, it provides plenty of material. I went to an open call once for A Midsummer Night's Dream and there were literally hundreds of girls running around in fairy wings. Awesome!

Anyway, I hope this helps.
Good luck!
Rose Havoc

Whatever Happened to My Stars?

A very important public service announement before I get around to posting a recap of last night's "Dancing with the Stars" results show.

I hate what's happened to Broadway.

Have you seen these pictures of the new Les Miserables revival? It makes me wish they'd ban Rosco fog once and for all.


All right. There's like four men in the chorus, and maybe one of them looks distinguishable. Is this what downsizing has become? Or did they spend the chorus budget on special effects? Looking at this picture, you would never know the guy up front is Aaron Lazar, the leading man of such Broadway musicals as The Light in the Piazza and Oklahoma! and is that really so wrong? Because I'd hate to think if that stuff was toxic. The guy in front looks asphyxiated.

Notice how he's covering up his face with his arm.


And then there's this. And its gloriously well-written pan by Mssr. Isherwood. Yeah, I don't know about you, but, judging from the pics alone, it looks sofa king dumb.

And, while it's great to see John Cullum on Broadway again, why is he providing the canned voice of a human playing a dog? That's right, a human playing a dog. Because, between this, The Wiz, and Times They are a'Changin', I'm starting to worry that it's going to be de rigeur, and Broadway dogs won't be needed in shows anymore. Poor Sandy and...whatever dogs were in Awake and Sing! and Chitty.

Anyway, this picture just really reminded me of this great documentary called Broadway: The Next Generation, and this interview with Tovah Feldshuh on it. Surprisingly, she has a lot of complaints about the state of Broadway musicals today. And she goes off on a whole unexpected rant about Why Musicals Suck Now. And she's all, "I paid five hundred bucks to see Beauty and the Beast, and why is there a disembodied head and some gigantic teapot apparatus where you can't even see Betsy Joslyn under all that makeup as Mrs. Potts, goddamn it! There is a real human actor in there!" Even Tovah really doesn't like Beauty and the Beast. Can you believe it?

Tovah, I love you.

Anyway, a friend of mine was very recently just going off about how she had seen Patrick Page, who plays the Grinch, in The Lion King, and how he was so brilliant as Scar that he was the first actor to ever really humanize that character and add depth to him...I mean, as deep a cartoon lion that sounds like Jeremy Irons can get. And he was this classically-trained actor who had appeared in Julius Caesar with Denzel Washington, he was married to "that woman from cable," and blah blah blah gush. And he was so great that everyone cheered when he "died" onstage.

And this is the capper to his brilliant career: Being totally unrecognizeable under scads of makeup as the Grinch. Nobody will ever know who he is.

That kind of sucks. At least he gets to come home to Paige Davis, though.

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.

March of the Poofters

I'm just going to get it out there once and for all: We now live in a society where Borat is the #1 movie in the country. But I have to wonder if Borat really is that famous yet. I think he's lived up to his own hype, judging from the movie itself; although, he's not really at that level of fame where rappers have started impersonating him in their videos. Until it gets to a point where Eminem or Cee-lo is on MTV dressed up in a scraggly, unkempt suit and a stupid moustache, I'm going to have to withhold judgment on this matter for a while.

Anyway, back to another pressing matter, the beloved "Dancing with the Stars." It feels fine for me to have a populist interest, for once. Not just Borat, but a setting where everyone in the audience - from suburban housewives to Ron Jeremy - has to dress up and show respect for old-timey (however kitschy) elegance. As evidenced by the NYT article on "Dancing with the Stars" I cited in yesterday's post - so funny because it is so, so true - and yet, I am just stymied about last night's outcome. And how it's going to affect tonight's results show.

A three-way tie? Seriously? They're copping out on us here! As if there was any doubt the show was rigged in some way...of course, maybe it's just Mario being a victim of circumstance. This was exactly what happened when he entered the Miss Bayside pageant those many moons ago.

The home audience was gypped last night. I know the interruptions and televised election results all go on in the name of civic duty, but I'm just saying that the last thing we needed was a whole half-hour of clips from "great results show performances" to start off the show - since the guys were only getting two dance routines each and the producers needed to add some padding. Well, how come they didn't show the Scissor Sisters? My older sister made a great observation about how all the music on this show is really orchestrated to appeal to old people: Lionel Richie, Rod Stewart, Tom Jones doing "It's Not Unusual." I really thought they were wasting our time with that. And I like Tom Jones!

This was another theme show that just happened to coincide with another important holiday on the calendar: Election Day. In honor of its observance, the Bergeron peppered the entire show with snarky commentary and lame jokes about the right to vote. For no apparent reason, the founding President of Namibia was the audience guest of honor. Wait, I'm confused. So, he's more or less important a foreign dignitary than the cast of High School Musical? The only thing I noticed about this odd placement was that he was seated firmly next to George Lopez, star of the upcoming Balls of Fury. Classy move, producers. I'm sure the audience in Windhoek really appreciated it, because this is exactly why Borat exists.

Tenacious D and Barry Manilow? I can't believe it. Now, the Black Eyed Peas and Barry Manilow? That I could see happening. Tragically. On the other hand, I so can't wait for "The Knights of Prosperity." Looks like "Earl" minus the white trash.

For some reason, ABC only shows the elections with Dem leads.

All right, let's get to some dancing that isn't prerecorded.

Mario started off the night with Havoc fave "Whatever Lola Wants" from the classic Broadway musical Damn Yankees. And it's a worthy routine to win three tens. I told my uninformed sister who the judges are: Carrie-Anne the indecisive one; Len Goodman, the ballroom purist who hates everything contemporary; and Bruno, the King of Hyperbole. Also, sometimes an indavertent perv when he's a little too nice with his notices. I've really sensed Bruno's rhythms and cadences in these last few episodes. Oh, if only I could upload an MP3 of my impression of him...

I really don't know who's going to get kicked off, and I'm kind of unsure about how I want it to play out. Everyone knows I hate Joey with a burning passion, but you've got to have someone to root against. Theoretically, I'd prefer Emmitt and Mario as the Final Two. They're just so damn talented! But Joey's a pushover for Mario, and he could conceivably sink Emmitt, unless Emmitt pulls it out real time and makes it to the Final Two anyway.

I'm just unsure as to whether ABC is pushing us to root for one or the other. I mean, you have Mario, inarguably the best dancer this show has probably seen; Emmitt, the underdog who's exceeding all expectations; and Joey, the cocky asshole. Are they setting up Mario as an underdog or a front-runner? Do they want him to win? Because, when they showed those videos of the finalists "hitting the campaign trail" (theme shows: gotta love 'em), they sent Emmitt to the NASCAR finals (NASCAR, football, and competitive ballroom dancing having a veritable crossover demographic) to appeal to a big stadium audience with a microphone, Joey to Disneyland (where he met his wife? Maybe the last time he was there he was shooting the obligatory "Blossom goes to Disneyland" cross-promotional ep), where he rode in the parade and did his dumb-ass jive to "Blue Suede Shoes" in full costume, and Mario to...his old high school in Chula Vista. I mean, seriously? Since he was a teen actor, I never would have guessed that the guy had actually gone to high school. Bayside notwithstanding.

By the way, to that little girl who said that seeing Joey dance up close was the highlight of her life: Clearly, you haven't lived.

Mario's next song was "Bad" and the whole thing was a trite and deliberate Michael Jackson homage. Because, when you want to get the audience on your good side, you choose an old song by a confirmed gay pedophile.

I'm sure Kenny Ortega loved it, though.

Anyway, dumb move, Mario. You were, seriously, the front-runner to win. I actually just said you were the true deserving winner of this! And, what did you do to seal the win? You did a Jacko routine, and it wasn't even to "Smooth Criminal." The real crime was that backup singer in the orchestra who sang the "Shamone!" while Mario grabbed his crotch.

My sister watched this, too, and she made another interesting observation about Mario's choice of Jacko actually being a good move. You know who else was saying he made the right decision on that? B-98 FM, the lamest radio station in the Greater Midwest. How lame is B-98? Il Divo could be its poster children.

Looks like K-Mart just hired Trey Parker as a spokesman.

See, now, Emmitt was Genuine Class. And his waltz is kind of his ace in the hole, when you think about it. He's placed with his waltz more times than Joey's done jazz hands or that damn knee slide (and, when I saw the preview for Tenacious D in The Pick of Destiny, I had a sad, sinking feeling that, if not for "Dancing with the Stars," Joey would probably be in a small, barren apartment, still practicing that very same knee slide on the carpet over and over to his wife's Kagelike bemusement), and, if he makes it to the final two, it'll be an oddly deserved upset. I think seeing a man of Emmitt's stature doing something like the waltz and actually making it look good is what's been keeping him this long in the competition. That or Bruno comparing him to the Grand Canyon.

He did his waltz to "At This Moment" by Billy Vera and the Beaters. I think the audience just started applauding him when they recognized that song from "Family Ties."

His Latin routine was to "Dance to the Music" (My sister: "Great song choice! They're gonna love him for this now."), and he really pulled it off. Typical Emmitt Smith, but, you try wearing those weird leopard-pring arm thingies and smiling about it. Insert Snarky Bergeron "He's got a few tricks up his sleeve...Wait a minute, he has no sleeves!" joke here.

My sister's take on Emmitt was unexpectedly racist and inherently Cartmanesque: "He's a black man. Of course he can dance."

I won't be upset if he makes it or not. Even if he does, hey, he might win.

Joey's first routine was to "42nd Street." He wore a sailor suit.

Seriously.

I really was looking for a 42nd Street picture to accompany this entry, of some leggy female dancers with big silver dollars on their heads. Just so you know, they still make silver dollars: The vending machine at my last temp assigment gave them out, and the Starbucks guy actually accepted mine as an adequate, however dated, means of payment. Twenty-three skidoo!

Joey, you are not Grover Dale. Grover Dale was classy. Grover Dale was in Les Desmoiselles de Rochefort. Grover Dale bagged Anita Morris. My point being: Grover Dale could pull off a sailor suit on a grown man. Meanwhile, at this point in the game, I'm seriously beginning to wonder if Joey actually loves his wife.

Anyway, here's where I should totally rip apart Joey's choice to wear a sequined sailor suit on national T.V., where I should rag on him for doing two George Michael routines and two Broadway musical routines, but I can't. It would be in very bad taste. Well, okay, I should at least clarify this:

The only reason he wore a sailor suit was in honor of his grandfather, who served in the Navy. Not because of any thoughts of Ugly Betty's nephew and his jazz-handing On the Town Halloween getup or anything. Okay, there was this surreal mo where they showed Joey acting/gushing to his grandpa over the phone about how proud he was going to make him by prancing around in a tight silk shirt appliqued with sequins, a neckerchief, and high-waisted pants doing jazz hands, and how this was going to be his big tribute to Grandpa Shaw. They showed his grandfather on camera holding a prop phone, but he didn't seem to hear or say anything in response to Joey's blatant fakeness. Okay, he makes one comment that could otherwise have been misconstrued as mean if they didn't pump in a laugh track while he said it.

So, then, they showed his grandmother, bless her, saying to either the camera or the grandfather that he should be proud of Joey for making this his tribute. And, just when he's about to get a word in edgewise, the second he opens his mouth, the camera cuts right to him passively gripping her hand!

I mean, this really was a classic moment in "Dancing with the Stars" history. Ten bucks says Grandpa Shaw says, "Tribute or not, I really don't want to see my grandson dancing around like some goddamn poofter." I really felt for Joey's cranky, conservative Grandpa after that. And Ugly Betty's brother-in-law.

And it probably would have been a little less embarrassing without the homemade day camp sailor hat with "SS Shaw" written on it poorly in blue glitter puff paint. Nah, still would have sucked ass. The sailor hat was just there for me to make fun of, as an added bonus.

To add insult to spangly injury, Joey toned all of his showy crap down for his Latin dance, and chose the wedding-tastic "Eternal Flame" (Sister: "Was this song on 'Dawson's Creek'?"). Which, admittedly, is playing to both sides of the coin: "Dancing with the Stars" being both the gayest and the Midwest housewife-centric prime time reality call-in show there is right now. And he just played it like the master evil he is, wearing a sleazy maroon silk shirt that wasn't even buttoned but still nonetheless tucked in, partner-dancing with Edyta and actually looking in her eye for a few seconds, leading with his balls...There was this weird moment I don't think everyone else saw, but it was played in the clips into oblivion, where he set her down on the floor, the floodlights came up onstage, and he gave the camera this sinister, menacing look, and I just up and screamed, "He's the Devil!"

Joey can still make everyone hate him as much as I do with what little time he has left on the show, regardless of whether he makes it or not. He just needs to sing a few bars of "Stay Forever" and he's done.

Next Time: In a West End town, the dead end world. The East End boys. The West End girls. And this better not be a wankfest like last time, Bergeron! You already lied to me about "Help Me Help You" actually being on last night. Three strikes, man.

You're two down, sucka.

Space Hoopty

Well, this was some nice shopping I got done today:

A set of wrapping paper - because, apparently, now I have at least two gifts on tap to wrap and distribute this season - and
A new folder for my "papes"
At Alphaville in the West Village...
As well as plenty of new action figures and a copy of Carrie Fisher's book The Best Awful. It was on the "homeless items" discount table, and I decided to give it a good home. Also, one of our reading assigments for my writing class was Postcards from the Edge, and it was definitely my favorite one so far. Who would have thought that one of my biggest literary influences would be Leia Organa?

I am worried about the action figures, though. This one in particular was something I've coveted for a while: "The Simpsons" DMV playset. It was remarkably inexpensive, and I'm glad I bought it, but I am worried about the inevitable moment when people start thinking I'm an eligible bachelorette - and the sinker is "Well, she does collect action figures!"

I went to Lovette's memorial last night at Lincoln Center. First of all, I have never, ever been inside of the theatre, so it was overwhelming to me just to walk through those doors and see all those giant posters, many of which I've only seen on a postage stamp scale (and still use on postage stamps, if I really like you - except for The Most Happy Fella, that one's mine for the keeping!). I got to see some old friends from the theatre community, as well as some new people - although I have to say that when I saw Audra up close at the reception, my knees turned to Jell-o and I could barely speak.

About Lincoln Center: I have no interest in seeing The Coast of Wanktopia. I don't see the point of doing this show in America if they're not going to bring in the original British cast and just replace them with the Same Five People they cast in everything over here. Man, Ethan Hawke's fine, but he isn't...I mean, he just doesn't hold up, you know what I'm saying? Whenever I look at Ethan Hawke, I always tend to go, yeah, he's good and all, but what's he got to say or do that'll even be remotely interesting?

About Theatre Queens in general: I was really glad that they made this event open to the public, although there were some people who couldn't even get seats. There was one guy I could have sworn I took out a temporary restraining order against who kept pointing and gawking and giving me the creepy eye. Look, if you know someone who knows someone on Broadway, I don't care. Talking about people you're not even remotely associated with who have some tangential approximation to fame or respectability is something I find extremely sleazy and ennerving. I sometimes have to prevent myself from not giving a shit about what's going on Broadway or whatever.

I was, however, sitting right near The Eyebrows That Ate Manhattan. To see them up close? Weird and cool at the same time.

It was a blessed, communal event. Kudos to everyone who made this a "Celebration of Life" in the best sense. In honor of the holiday season officially beginning, I'm going to listen to her version of "The Annoying Little Drummer Boy" from Carols for a Cure 2005 sometime.

Other things:

Saw Borat and loved, it, but it's not like I'm going to be quoting it ad nauseum.
The NYT agrees with me and the general public - albeit this write-up never once mentions the words "kitsch," "camp," or "cheese."
I'm a little obsessed with The Goodbye Girl CD now. I probably am going to be quoting it ad nauseum, much to the chagrin of everyone else.
Striking 12. Is it worth a look-see if I get comps?

I mean, I read All That Chat. I haven't really seen anything on it yet, but I guess I don't really care. Because it exists only in the realm of hypertext. I would wish it didn't come to life as frequently as it does in my normal, heterosexual female life. I knew who these people were: I just know from experience how weird it is to hold them up to a certain standard in front of normal people who don't necessarily understand. Talkin' Broadway really is like a foreign language to most people. Damn you for getting me hooked!

Anyway, there are worse things that could happen.

See: All That Chat. Re: "Marta." That poor woman...