"I'm afraid my fingerprints are all over the murder weapon once again."
posted by Gypsy at 8:35 PM
0 comments
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Sunday, December 10, 2006
The Big Book of Broadway Failures
I love you, Not Since Carrie.
If ever a book was screaming to be read aloud instead of silently, it was this one.
If ever a book was screaming to be read aloud instead of silently, it was this one.
posted by Gypsy at 8:41 PM
0 comments
Saturday, December 09, 2006
The Audience, or, Do you kids like to use the World Wide Interweb?
I just got back from seeing the new Christopher Guest movie For Your Consideration, and just felt this need to vent.
Lest you think I actually hated said movie, you are wrong. I liked the movie fine. It's the audience that has me pissed off.
If it helps, I should at least let you know that I would follow Chris Guest to the ends of the earth. To say that I love his movies is an understatement No. I think he's one of the most accessible, intelligent, brilliantly perverse human beings on this planet. Hell, I even suffered through Heartbeeps.
So, what I had heard about this movie, from every single friend/relative/acquaintance/whoever knows me at all who saw this movie was the same thing, "It was disappointing." You know, as in, "You're not going to like it." I heard that repeatedly. And, let me tell you, if you go into this movie with severely lowered expectations? You will love it. Nobody else in the theatre did, actually, because, I don't know, maybe they thought this was going to be a laff riot. I don't even know what they were thinking (as in, nobody in the audience knew who Ricky Gervais was or recognized him as anything other than "That guy from 'The Office'). Well, I can't believe they hated it as much as they did.
As in, some dipwad actually got up in the theatre and screamed, "THERE WERE NO LIKABLE CHARACTERS IN THAT MOVIE!!!" And I just wanted to get up and scream back at him, "THAT WAS THE FUCKING POINT!!!" Also, the girl next to me left her cell phone on for the entire movie and, right after it ended, complained about getting a very long message on her voicemail. Which, I find odd, since she was texting on a tiny, unnecessarily bright screen for the last hour and a half. These are the people for whom quality forgot. The ones who believe Ian Maxtone-Graham episodes of "The Simpsons" that forget who the characters actually are belong in the all-time echelon of greatness (well, that's what's playing in the background of my computer screen right now, so, it provides an appropriate comparison).
You might be wondering why I'm writing about For Your Consideration on this blog. Well, I'm all about improv comedy, and this film certainly had enough musical theatre veterans to fill a cast of Henry, Sweet, Henry.
Also, it's the same thing with live theatre. Not just the tourists, but the insider-y jackasses who won't stop talking during the show. If they hate it, they won't stop talking loudly. If they love it, they won't stop talking loudly. I had the same problem at Striking 12 and Company, and it seemed like these queens wouldn't stop (for lack of a better term) verbally "beating off" to the show. Can't they just wait until they're around someone who cares after the show ends before they can start name-dropping? Why is it such a big deal for them to be in the same room as these performers, who probably wouldn't give half a shit about what these jerks are yelling and laughing about during the show because they are on a stage performing and have to concentrate all of their mental energy on a show that they can't screw up for the rest of the audience? Ugh!
A question to anyone who understands what I'm getting at: If you really loved theatre, wouldn't you have some semblance of etiquette to go with that? To this day, my parents always stressed my sister and I dressing up for a Broadway show, regardless of whether it was a matinee or not. We always had a strict dress code and knew to be quiet. If we hated a show, we knew to whisper to mom, so no one else would understand what we were getting at. And we still, by force of habit, wear dresses and slacks to whatever live theater we plan on attending. We turn off our cell phones. Sometimes we don't even bring our cell phones if we know our parents are paying for everything. We're the only ones.
I mean, how would you feel if some ATC poster went to your high school production of Joseph and kept screaming, "Oh my God! Katie the head cheerleader! I love her! Oh, THIS NUMBER IS WEAK BUT I'M CLAPPING OUT OF SARCASM AND GLOWERING BECAUSE I WANT TO SPITE THEM!" The sad truth is, I can totally see this happening in real life. I have a morbid fasciation with that site and the people who post on it, although I never really got why these people make it a such a huge point to see theatre in any capacity, wherever it happens, regardless of how much they know it's going to suck, or how much they have to pay for it. These are people who consider Seth Rudetsky a celebrity and who always have to preface why they really love a show with a very long, rambling, Isherwood-esque paragraph on why they also really hate it.
Wait. Is this anorexic chick on my T.V. right now butchering Eva Cassidy OFF-KEY with inspirational music blasting in the background supposed to be good? A-ha. I get it now. You know, my voice teacher always tells me: "Stop riffing. You know you can hit that note in the sheet music. Don't try so hard." As in, people who aren't real singers tend to add other notes that aren't in the song before the note they're supposed to hit, so it makes it look like they can hit the note without actually hitting it on the first try? Why is that girl adding a different note to every damn note in the song? Why are you people applauding this crap!? That means she's not a real singer!
Side note: After my voice teacher pointed this out to me, I was particularly annoyed with Kelly Clarkson's "singing" the National Anthem on the playoffs this Thanksgiving. My whole family thought she was brilliant, but you'd think they'd be smart enough to know that half of the notes she sang aren't even in the National Anthem. She added another note before every damn note just to ease the transition, which technically makes it half of them. If it had been any other song, I wouldn't have been so pissed off by it. Although, my family was probably more taken with, "Wow, Kelly Clarkson lost a lot of weight!" than "Wow, Kelly Clarkson is really singing!"
But I digress. When I was a kid, I always thought I would be living in New York City, and my family and I could see more Broadway shows and movies than we ever dreamed of. Who would have thought that the ticket prices would get so abnormally huge on both ends, I'd be lucky to even get out and see one movie per year without waiting for the lowered rental fees when it came out on DVD?
Anyway, I'd just like to thank Loews Kips Bay for being one of the few movie theatres in NYC that lets you bring in outside food. I am not one for junk food, but I had such a wicked craving for my coconut coffee and Boston kreme, I was actually worried on how I could have brought it into the theatre without being like Kramer with the coffee in his pants. I also counted a bag of nuts, two Starbucks gingerbread lattes, and two boxes of buffalo wings in the theatre.
Appropriately caffeinated and sugar-rushed, with a new Christopher Guest movie in tow and me front-row center, I was like a kid on Christmas day. The one thing that ruined it was that I was also sitting right in front of these two yuppie couples who wouldn't stop talking about corporate stocks. By the way, these kinds of couples are the exact reason I hate living in Murray Hill.
Anyway, one thing that people don't understand about this movie is that it's not supposed to be a mockumentary. It does away with the "unseen camera crew" device, and, instead of cutting away from the staggering humiliations the characters put up with to have the characters explain, in interviews, why they're humiliating themselves for us, they linger on the humiliations for some time longer. It's not like Waiting for Guffman or Best In Show: It's more like an unofficial sequel (an unintentional redo?) of The Big Picture, only on Christopher Guest's own terms. And what people fail to realize is, before Christopher Guest had Castle Rock and the creative leeway to actually make movies on his own terms, Christopher Guest used to make movies like For Your Consideration, but the studios thought they were too weird.
For Your Consideration is, by far, Christopher Guest's most inorganic movie to date. It's not that a lot of the gags feel forced (one audience member loudly filled in a punchline before Eugene Levy even got to a much funnier one). What separates For Your Consideration is that it deals with a more fantastic world than Guffman or Best in Show: one where people walk around studio lots in space suits and get their lunch at craft services, let alone one outside of where the audience is. The presence of anyone from "Mad TV" also confirms this.
One couple in the back row also got up and yelled, "This isn't Hollywood. This is New York. What makes them think we would find this funny here?"
We can all relate to the humor in community theatre, pets, and heavy metal music, because we know them, and we've been there. It's not that the world of For Your Consideration isn't around us. The problem is that this world is, strictly, around us. We don't know whether these characters are weird people Guest, Levy, and co. deal with on a daily basis, or some heightened exaggeration of them, because we've never seen them outside of wacky comedies like The Big Picture. Although, to me, the fact that when I walked out of the theatre, I was surrounded by posters that were only for remakes or sequels pretty much confirmed that these idiots do exist. After all, this is why there are no original ideas left in Hollywood.
So, when an original idea like For Your Consideration comes along, people are too stupid to realize how true the comedy is, and how gags that are both totally real and fakely exaggerated tend to work. Perhaps that's why the laughs were more few and far between than in any other Guest movie I've ever seen in a movie house. With Best in Show, the audience was laughing, because they knew who these people were in the Midwest and South. People in Murray Hill, likewise, only laughed at the overtly Jewish references.
Because this is a movie that deals with a highly fantastical/fictional prospect: In today's Hollywood, or in any Hollywood, for that matter, a movie like Home for Purim would never get made. Hollywood is still scared of making movies that deal with Jewish concerns and history (let alone Southern Jews), which makes the situation both squickingly weird, and abnormally funny in a Naked Gun sort of way (and not a Best in Show sort of way). Only once in a blue moon will there be a Schindler's List or a Munich (which, even rarer, deals directly with the Israel-Palestine conflict). I actually consider A Mighty Wind to be a more Jewish movie than what Hollywood tends to consider "Jewish." And if there is ever going to be a movie like Home for Purim, rest assured, George Clooney will play the Jew. And then it will become Home for Thanksgiving.
I know from which I speak, because I took classes in Film and Jewish Studies in college, and saw all of the "Jewish event movies" ever made. They were not only more rare than any genre film, but they reminded me why, exactly, Hollywood is so scared of the audience (i.e. people who aren't them). I really had to suspend my disbelief that a movie like Home for Purim could ever be taken seriously (the fact that Yentl actually exists really helped). And why would a Jewish filmmaker name the family in the movie Pisher?! Wouldn't he know what that word really means?!?
Do you want to know why Hollywood hates musicals, too? Because there was no singing or dancing in the Dreamgirls preview that preceded this movie.
Here's what made For Your Consideration work for me (and what probably tainted it for the rest of the audience): Any of the previews before it could have been for one of the movie spoofs here. I think the Don Lake character summed it up nicely when he said, "It's about time in a film nothing happened!"
Besides being as geeish as the wacky Plymouth Rock spoof, at no point in any of these five or six movie previews before For Your Consideration did I ever get a sense of what the fucking movie was about. For Your Consideration knew this, and the fact that the joke established itself well before the actual movie started was truly a joy to behold.
Here's what I did see: No less than eight or nine reminders that all of the "____ Award _____" people involved with each of these movies were nominated and/or won Oscars, Golden Globes, People's Choices, Grammies, Tonies, and Blockbuster Awards. Seriously. Grammies.
First of all, the trailer for the new (ACADEMY AWARD WINNER!) Steven Soderbergh movie is designed to look like a preview for a movie based on a graphic novel. Hey, movie trailer douchebags, you don't need to remind me that George Clooney and Cate Blanchett won Oscars. Christ on a cracker, that was less than a year ago.
I'm starting to care about Beau Bridges in this movie. Why? Because I know he hasn't even been nominated for a Blockbuster Award.
I wouldn't have cared otherwise, but the damn movie trailers beat me into oblivion with these factoids to the point where every single preview looked like it was for the exact same movie.
And then there was that generic "chick flick" with Diane Keaton as a woman of a certain age trying to keep up with her three sexy daughters? The one that would have had "This will be an everlasting love for me" or whatever playing in the background? The movie with a requisite scene in Bloomingdales and a token well-dressed character who's a caterer that just seemed designed to be some parody of another movie that I swear would have already come out five years ago? It took me a while to recognize Rebecca Romijn. I thought her one line in X-Men was pretty much confirmation that she couldn't act, but I guess I was wrong.
By the way, the yuppies couldn't stop laughing during this preview. Because Reverend Camden played the age-appropriate gray(ish) fox love interest for Keaton, one of the guys yelled, "It looks like a really long TV show! 'Eighth Heaven!'" Die, yuppie scum. Die.
At some point in the fifteen or so minutes before the actual movie started, I was thinking, "You know, I would kill to see the trailer for Balls of Fury right now." Except that movie features Oscar winner Christopher Walken, coupled with the fact that the actual Balls of Fury guy won a Tony Award for Best Featured Actor in a Musical pretty much legitimizes that one.
Okay, Dreamgirls looks kind of cool. Finally, one of the "American Idols" gets to sing something other than Manilow! God, I wish this was 1981, and I could afford a Broadway ticket to see the real show instead...
Anyway, back to Chris Guest and his repertory company of actors (especially the sorely underused Jim Piddock, who was great). I was thinking, the only time this movie hit the delirious heights of hilarity the other Guest movies did, was right at the end. When they showed the montage of publicity appearances covering everything from Opie & Anthony to Leno to BET to Charlie Rose (Bless you, Mark Harelik, for making that genius). And the so-funny-because-it's true habit of "Entertainment Tonight" asking stupid questions to actors (i.e. "Who was your favorite member of the Brady Bunch?"), and then only interviewing them when they don't get nominated for awards? Brilliant!
That being said, however, they finally let a black person in a Christopher Guest movie. Predictably, he served no purpose other than to point out how stupid and ignorant the white people were. At least this movie, like all other Guest movies, dealt with openly Jewish characters. How sad is it that I actually have to use the phrase "openly Jewish"?
Just so you know, Jim Piddock also wrote The Man.
Since this has been an uncharacteristically ranty entry, I'll leave you now with some things that are guaranteed to make me laugh at the moment:
The chapter in Not Since Carrie that seems to pose the improbable question: "Wait...There was a Broadway musical based on Exodus?"
Harpo Marx.
That whole sequence in the movie American Dreamz with the longhaired Southern guy going "Oh yeaaah, I'm a rocker!"
The two newest "recurring" sketches on "Mad TV," one of which is a lot like "Kidz News with Smapdi" from the old "Daily Show," featuring a "kid" drawing and commenting on current events; and the other of which proves that "Mad TV"'s latest precaution in trying to not achieve the level of "suck" "SNL" has in recent years is making the last 5 minutes of the show as fucking funny as humanly possible by having the cast members portray fake "musical guests" who parody a different style of music each week.
The exceedingly fucked-up commercials for the new musical Grey Gardens, which would actually get me to see that show if I wasn't so sure that the whole audience was made up of those crazy insider jackasses I already mentioned earlier in this entry. Those jackasses are also why I found Ed Begley's character in For Your Consideration the best one, by the way.
"Is it Italian...or maybe Frittalian?"
In conclusion to this entry, I just want to say that I don't ask anyone to make me laugh or think. I just hope those people are much smarter than they appear to be when they're in the audience.
Lest you think I actually hated said movie, you are wrong. I liked the movie fine. It's the audience that has me pissed off.
If it helps, I should at least let you know that I would follow Chris Guest to the ends of the earth. To say that I love his movies is an understatement No. I think he's one of the most accessible, intelligent, brilliantly perverse human beings on this planet. Hell, I even suffered through Heartbeeps.
So, what I had heard about this movie, from every single friend/relative/acquaintance/whoever knows me at all who saw this movie was the same thing, "It was disappointing." You know, as in, "You're not going to like it." I heard that repeatedly. And, let me tell you, if you go into this movie with severely lowered expectations? You will love it. Nobody else in the theatre did, actually, because, I don't know, maybe they thought this was going to be a laff riot. I don't even know what they were thinking (as in, nobody in the audience knew who Ricky Gervais was or recognized him as anything other than "That guy from 'The Office'). Well, I can't believe they hated it as much as they did.
As in, some dipwad actually got up in the theatre and screamed, "THERE WERE NO LIKABLE CHARACTERS IN THAT MOVIE!!!" And I just wanted to get up and scream back at him, "THAT WAS THE FUCKING POINT!!!" Also, the girl next to me left her cell phone on for the entire movie and, right after it ended, complained about getting a very long message on her voicemail. Which, I find odd, since she was texting on a tiny, unnecessarily bright screen for the last hour and a half. These are the people for whom quality forgot. The ones who believe Ian Maxtone-Graham episodes of "The Simpsons" that forget who the characters actually are belong in the all-time echelon of greatness (well, that's what's playing in the background of my computer screen right now, so, it provides an appropriate comparison).
You might be wondering why I'm writing about For Your Consideration on this blog. Well, I'm all about improv comedy, and this film certainly had enough musical theatre veterans to fill a cast of Henry, Sweet, Henry.
Also, it's the same thing with live theatre. Not just the tourists, but the insider-y jackasses who won't stop talking during the show. If they hate it, they won't stop talking loudly. If they love it, they won't stop talking loudly. I had the same problem at Striking 12 and Company, and it seemed like these queens wouldn't stop (for lack of a better term) verbally "beating off" to the show. Can't they just wait until they're around someone who cares after the show ends before they can start name-dropping? Why is it such a big deal for them to be in the same room as these performers, who probably wouldn't give half a shit about what these jerks are yelling and laughing about during the show because they are on a stage performing and have to concentrate all of their mental energy on a show that they can't screw up for the rest of the audience? Ugh!
A question to anyone who understands what I'm getting at: If you really loved theatre, wouldn't you have some semblance of etiquette to go with that? To this day, my parents always stressed my sister and I dressing up for a Broadway show, regardless of whether it was a matinee or not. We always had a strict dress code and knew to be quiet. If we hated a show, we knew to whisper to mom, so no one else would understand what we were getting at. And we still, by force of habit, wear dresses and slacks to whatever live theater we plan on attending. We turn off our cell phones. Sometimes we don't even bring our cell phones if we know our parents are paying for everything. We're the only ones.
I mean, how would you feel if some ATC poster went to your high school production of Joseph and kept screaming, "Oh my God! Katie the head cheerleader! I love her! Oh, THIS NUMBER IS WEAK BUT I'M CLAPPING OUT OF SARCASM AND GLOWERING BECAUSE I WANT TO SPITE THEM!" The sad truth is, I can totally see this happening in real life. I have a morbid fasciation with that site and the people who post on it, although I never really got why these people make it a such a huge point to see theatre in any capacity, wherever it happens, regardless of how much they know it's going to suck, or how much they have to pay for it. These are people who consider Seth Rudetsky a celebrity and who always have to preface why they really love a show with a very long, rambling, Isherwood-esque paragraph on why they also really hate it.
Wait. Is this anorexic chick on my T.V. right now butchering Eva Cassidy OFF-KEY with inspirational music blasting in the background supposed to be good? A-ha. I get it now. You know, my voice teacher always tells me: "Stop riffing. You know you can hit that note in the sheet music. Don't try so hard." As in, people who aren't real singers tend to add other notes that aren't in the song before the note they're supposed to hit, so it makes it look like they can hit the note without actually hitting it on the first try? Why is that girl adding a different note to every damn note in the song? Why are you people applauding this crap!? That means she's not a real singer!
Side note: After my voice teacher pointed this out to me, I was particularly annoyed with Kelly Clarkson's "singing" the National Anthem on the playoffs this Thanksgiving. My whole family thought she was brilliant, but you'd think they'd be smart enough to know that half of the notes she sang aren't even in the National Anthem. She added another note before every damn note just to ease the transition, which technically makes it half of them. If it had been any other song, I wouldn't have been so pissed off by it. Although, my family was probably more taken with, "Wow, Kelly Clarkson lost a lot of weight!" than "Wow, Kelly Clarkson is really singing!"
But I digress. When I was a kid, I always thought I would be living in New York City, and my family and I could see more Broadway shows and movies than we ever dreamed of. Who would have thought that the ticket prices would get so abnormally huge on both ends, I'd be lucky to even get out and see one movie per year without waiting for the lowered rental fees when it came out on DVD?
Anyway, I'd just like to thank Loews Kips Bay for being one of the few movie theatres in NYC that lets you bring in outside food. I am not one for junk food, but I had such a wicked craving for my coconut coffee and Boston kreme, I was actually worried on how I could have brought it into the theatre without being like Kramer with the coffee in his pants. I also counted a bag of nuts, two Starbucks gingerbread lattes, and two boxes of buffalo wings in the theatre.
Appropriately caffeinated and sugar-rushed, with a new Christopher Guest movie in tow and me front-row center, I was like a kid on Christmas day. The one thing that ruined it was that I was also sitting right in front of these two yuppie couples who wouldn't stop talking about corporate stocks. By the way, these kinds of couples are the exact reason I hate living in Murray Hill.
Anyway, one thing that people don't understand about this movie is that it's not supposed to be a mockumentary. It does away with the "unseen camera crew" device, and, instead of cutting away from the staggering humiliations the characters put up with to have the characters explain, in interviews, why they're humiliating themselves for us, they linger on the humiliations for some time longer. It's not like Waiting for Guffman or Best In Show: It's more like an unofficial sequel (an unintentional redo?) of The Big Picture, only on Christopher Guest's own terms. And what people fail to realize is, before Christopher Guest had Castle Rock and the creative leeway to actually make movies on his own terms, Christopher Guest used to make movies like For Your Consideration, but the studios thought they were too weird.
For Your Consideration is, by far, Christopher Guest's most inorganic movie to date. It's not that a lot of the gags feel forced (one audience member loudly filled in a punchline before Eugene Levy even got to a much funnier one). What separates For Your Consideration is that it deals with a more fantastic world than Guffman or Best in Show: one where people walk around studio lots in space suits and get their lunch at craft services, let alone one outside of where the audience is. The presence of anyone from "Mad TV" also confirms this.
One couple in the back row also got up and yelled, "This isn't Hollywood. This is New York. What makes them think we would find this funny here?"
We can all relate to the humor in community theatre, pets, and heavy metal music, because we know them, and we've been there. It's not that the world of For Your Consideration isn't around us. The problem is that this world is, strictly, around us. We don't know whether these characters are weird people Guest, Levy, and co. deal with on a daily basis, or some heightened exaggeration of them, because we've never seen them outside of wacky comedies like The Big Picture. Although, to me, the fact that when I walked out of the theatre, I was surrounded by posters that were only for remakes or sequels pretty much confirmed that these idiots do exist. After all, this is why there are no original ideas left in Hollywood.
So, when an original idea like For Your Consideration comes along, people are too stupid to realize how true the comedy is, and how gags that are both totally real and fakely exaggerated tend to work. Perhaps that's why the laughs were more few and far between than in any other Guest movie I've ever seen in a movie house. With Best in Show, the audience was laughing, because they knew who these people were in the Midwest and South. People in Murray Hill, likewise, only laughed at the overtly Jewish references.
Because this is a movie that deals with a highly fantastical/fictional prospect: In today's Hollywood, or in any Hollywood, for that matter, a movie like Home for Purim would never get made. Hollywood is still scared of making movies that deal with Jewish concerns and history (let alone Southern Jews), which makes the situation both squickingly weird, and abnormally funny in a Naked Gun sort of way (and not a Best in Show sort of way). Only once in a blue moon will there be a Schindler's List or a Munich (which, even rarer, deals directly with the Israel-Palestine conflict). I actually consider A Mighty Wind to be a more Jewish movie than what Hollywood tends to consider "Jewish." And if there is ever going to be a movie like Home for Purim, rest assured, George Clooney will play the Jew. And then it will become Home for Thanksgiving.
I know from which I speak, because I took classes in Film and Jewish Studies in college, and saw all of the "Jewish event movies" ever made. They were not only more rare than any genre film, but they reminded me why, exactly, Hollywood is so scared of the audience (i.e. people who aren't them). I really had to suspend my disbelief that a movie like Home for Purim could ever be taken seriously (the fact that Yentl actually exists really helped). And why would a Jewish filmmaker name the family in the movie Pisher?! Wouldn't he know what that word really means?!?
Do you want to know why Hollywood hates musicals, too? Because there was no singing or dancing in the Dreamgirls preview that preceded this movie.
Here's what made For Your Consideration work for me (and what probably tainted it for the rest of the audience): Any of the previews before it could have been for one of the movie spoofs here. I think the Don Lake character summed it up nicely when he said, "It's about time in a film nothing happened!"
Besides being as geeish as the wacky Plymouth Rock spoof, at no point in any of these five or six movie previews before For Your Consideration did I ever get a sense of what the fucking movie was about. For Your Consideration knew this, and the fact that the joke established itself well before the actual movie started was truly a joy to behold.
Here's what I did see: No less than eight or nine reminders that all of the "____ Award _____" people involved with each of these movies were nominated and/or won Oscars, Golden Globes, People's Choices, Grammies, Tonies, and Blockbuster Awards. Seriously. Grammies.
First of all, the trailer for the new (ACADEMY AWARD WINNER!) Steven Soderbergh movie is designed to look like a preview for a movie based on a graphic novel. Hey, movie trailer douchebags, you don't need to remind me that George Clooney and Cate Blanchett won Oscars. Christ on a cracker, that was less than a year ago.
I'm starting to care about Beau Bridges in this movie. Why? Because I know he hasn't even been nominated for a Blockbuster Award.
I wouldn't have cared otherwise, but the damn movie trailers beat me into oblivion with these factoids to the point where every single preview looked like it was for the exact same movie.
And then there was that generic "chick flick" with Diane Keaton as a woman of a certain age trying to keep up with her three sexy daughters? The one that would have had "This will be an everlasting love for me" or whatever playing in the background? The movie with a requisite scene in Bloomingdales and a token well-dressed character who's a caterer that just seemed designed to be some parody of another movie that I swear would have already come out five years ago? It took me a while to recognize Rebecca Romijn. I thought her one line in X-Men was pretty much confirmation that she couldn't act, but I guess I was wrong.
By the way, the yuppies couldn't stop laughing during this preview. Because Reverend Camden played the age-appropriate gray(ish) fox love interest for Keaton, one of the guys yelled, "It looks like a really long TV show! 'Eighth Heaven!'" Die, yuppie scum. Die.
At some point in the fifteen or so minutes before the actual movie started, I was thinking, "You know, I would kill to see the trailer for Balls of Fury right now." Except that movie features Oscar winner Christopher Walken, coupled with the fact that the actual Balls of Fury guy won a Tony Award for Best Featured Actor in a Musical pretty much legitimizes that one.
Okay, Dreamgirls looks kind of cool. Finally, one of the "American Idols" gets to sing something other than Manilow! God, I wish this was 1981, and I could afford a Broadway ticket to see the real show instead...
Anyway, back to Chris Guest and his repertory company of actors (especially the sorely underused Jim Piddock, who was great). I was thinking, the only time this movie hit the delirious heights of hilarity the other Guest movies did, was right at the end. When they showed the montage of publicity appearances covering everything from Opie & Anthony to Leno to BET to Charlie Rose (Bless you, Mark Harelik, for making that genius). And the so-funny-because-it's true habit of "Entertainment Tonight" asking stupid questions to actors (i.e. "Who was your favorite member of the Brady Bunch?"), and then only interviewing them when they don't get nominated for awards? Brilliant!
That being said, however, they finally let a black person in a Christopher Guest movie. Predictably, he served no purpose other than to point out how stupid and ignorant the white people were. At least this movie, like all other Guest movies, dealt with openly Jewish characters. How sad is it that I actually have to use the phrase "openly Jewish"?
Just so you know, Jim Piddock also wrote The Man.
Since this has been an uncharacteristically ranty entry, I'll leave you now with some things that are guaranteed to make me laugh at the moment:
The chapter in Not Since Carrie that seems to pose the improbable question: "Wait...There was a Broadway musical based on Exodus?"
Harpo Marx.
That whole sequence in the movie American Dreamz with the longhaired Southern guy going "Oh yeaaah, I'm a rocker!"
The two newest "recurring" sketches on "Mad TV," one of which is a lot like "Kidz News with Smapdi" from the old "Daily Show," featuring a "kid" drawing and commenting on current events; and the other of which proves that "Mad TV"'s latest precaution in trying to not achieve the level of "suck" "SNL" has in recent years is making the last 5 minutes of the show as fucking funny as humanly possible by having the cast members portray fake "musical guests" who parody a different style of music each week.
The exceedingly fucked-up commercials for the new musical Grey Gardens, which would actually get me to see that show if I wasn't so sure that the whole audience was made up of those crazy insider jackasses I already mentioned earlier in this entry. Those jackasses are also why I found Ed Begley's character in For Your Consideration the best one, by the way.
"Is it Italian...or maybe Frittalian?"
In conclusion to this entry, I just want to say that I don't ask anyone to make me laugh or think. I just hope those people are much smarter than they appear to be when they're in the audience.
posted by Gypsy at 6:59 PM
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Friday, December 08, 2006
There are worse things.
Than being a career receptionist/admin.?
Seasoned Greetings by the Stardust Family Singers.
Well, Joe Franklin loved it.
I like how their website is designed to look like an employment application. Which, when you think about it, is appropriate...
Seasoned Greetings by the Stardust Family Singers.Well, Joe Franklin loved it.
I like how their website is designed to look like an employment application. Which, when you think about it, is appropriate...
posted by Gypsy at 7:59 PM
0 comments
Thursday, December 07, 2006
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
Getting Boozy With Joanne
"I think my cell phone's cracked."
"Why would you worry about that? It won't affect how the phone works."
"I probably shouldn't have taken it tonight. Not in such a small purse. Maybe I should have brought a change of clothes."
"Rose, why are you second-guessing yourself? It's not like you bid on anything in the auction."
"Actually...I won something."
"What?"
Pause.
"I got into Barbara's class."
Piercing Scream on the other end of the line.
Well, last night was the benefit for the theatre company I'm involved in. I don't know how exactly they found me, or why exactly they chose me to participate in such a huge undertaking: but it's only the day after it happened that I realize how huge said undertaking actually was.
One thing I knew, or, at least, was aware of, was the fact that one of our committee members, and the wife of one of the cofounders, is a Broadway actress: She currently plays Joanne in Company. Now, I've never met her. To me, she has only been an e-mail, a face, a correspondence, or a voicemail. I've sort of been a liaison on the committee, especially, which has totally asked me to step out of my natural element and be sort of outgoing. Which is tough, because my natural (social) element is, for lack of a better term, chickenshit.
And meeting Joanne in Company is something you never think will happen; I mean, you don't spend your entire life agonizing over it, or hoping what one in a million chance of it actually happening even could. To me, Joanne in Company is like a rock star, and would be like meeting Usher or Madonna, in terms of how other, normal kids would have felt upon seeing their idols up close. Never mind that "Joanne" is a fictional character. My dear friend Erica has informed me, more than once, that it is the role I was born to play. I never saw the correlation, and neither has anyone I've told up close who knows this certain bon mot has been stated. Although I probably should admit that every time I hold a glass in my hand, I am always so tempted to start singing "The Ladies Who Lunch" that the social function in question, more often than not, comes to a screeching halt.
But if you read this blog, or, at least, take a passing glance at the entries of the past week or so, then you know that I finally saw Company live, in previews, on Broadway, up close, fifth row center. Although, most of my mentions of Company tend to revolve around few aspects I probably shouldn't emphasize, but I can't stop because I am obsessed: The depressing, conceptual theater-style lack of color, which in itself is its own punchline; the sheer hilarity of the actors-toting-instruments conceit, which, fundamentally, should fall somewhere between "The Banana Splits," "The Monkees," the synthesizers in Teeny Todd, and Hal Prince's production of Show Boat where all the African-American ensemble members moved the sets and scenery, on the "thin line between genius and embarrassing" scale; and the utter hotness-slash-talent of the actor-slash-cellist who plays David and understudies Robert (if he ever goes on, I am so hitting up TDF for tickets and asking for the refund that Raul Esparza's name-above-the-title contract so eloquently stipulates: Anyone wanna come with?).
If it helps, I've been telling anyone who cares that he looks a lot like what will happen when Orlando Bloom finally goes through puberty. This is not to be confused with Orlando Blaum, who does my chemical peels.
But I digress: After I saw Company,"Mrs. C." wasn't just Mrs. C. anymore to me. She was also the bold, ballsy woman who screamed "Everybody's...ROIDS! ROIDS! ROIDS!" in front of an audience of hundreds at the Ethel Barrymore theatre. And that's just wonderful.
Even knowing that at least one of the swingin' marrieds from Company was going to be at the fundraiser was reason enough for me to get excited. Until I saw Company, my only conception of the woman was just "Mrs. C." Not some glamorous boozehound in a blazer who treats her husband like a plaything. And, besides, who knows who else might have put in a donation to support the committee? Beth Leavel? Celia Keenan-Bolger? Manoel Felciano? Fred Rose?
I have to admit, it's fun dreaming about the various semi-famous/semi-anonymous, totally glamorous Broadway stars who might show up. Especially at Christmastime, in New York, where you can't go home for the holidays because you just got a full-time job, it keeps you sane - or at least helps ward off seasonal affective disorder.
One person I was sort of wishing could come? Celia's Les Miz costar Aaron "The Jewish John Raitt" Lazar. I'm actually thinking about applying to the same graduate school program he went through. Also? Too cute.
Well, three of all ain't bad.
Some highlights:
Host Julie Halston on Beth Leavel: "You know she's made it because she has a Tony, and guys are dressing as her at the Pride Parade."
Beth Leavel on her audition pieces: "I had an uptempo, a ballad, a legit aria, a comedy number, a jazz tune, and a Janis Joplin rock song...and they were all 'I Got Rhythm!'"
Julie Halston on a live auction Vespa that ultimately went unsold: "It's not like all of you don't have enough money to buy it."
Taboo star Liz McCartney on just having her second child and staying pretty: "Obviously, I look much different now. It's not like I'm Danny Burstein."
And, Halston on Bob Martin: "He's not gay."
Manoel Felciano on his first audition song: "This is Stephen Schwartz's favorite song. He hasn't cast me."
Manoel was actually the last to perform because he arrived at the very last minute dressed in a full suit and tie; probably because he had just come from another benefit down the street and in answer to Julie's question, "What are you doing now, Mano?" he said, "Unemployed!" He told the oft-recounted story of his miraculous rise to semi-fame, and, when he mentioned how he was discovered at Rodeo Bar, like, three or four people went, "Whoo!" (Me: "That's near my apartment!"). He even brought his guitar, and ad-libbed some funny jokes while they were trying to fix his microphone. Is he also a comedian? Because? Manoel Felciano? Should totally do improv. He's so much better at it than most of the dipwads I've dealt with in my advanced classes.
I still find it hilarious that a heartthrob like him is finally getting the preteen girls into Sondheim.
The other performances were interesting. Obviously, I didn't get to see them all. Danny Burstein was kept nicely sequestered from me. They knew.
Lisa Howard sang an awesome "Gorgeous" from The Apple Tree. She talked about how it took her years and years of waitressing, hostessing, and demonstrating toys at FAO Schwartz before she got cast on the national tour of Les Miz; which I personally find hard to believe. Supposedly, she was the one person in the history of her school to get the most agent invites ever. But I really, truly believed it last night coming from Lisa because she is adorable. And you totally can't make that shit up about having to demonstrate a game called "Butt-head."
I never really "got" Seth Rudetsky - aside from his Ken Jennings-like knowledge of all things Broadway and inimitable ability to work it all, rapid-fire, into literal seconds of any conversation. Seth strikes me as the most popular kid in school. And, if you don't know him as well as the other kids, you don't quite understand why he's so popular. But then you go outside of school (or you don't subscribe to Sirius satellite radio), and nobody anywhere else has ever heard of him. Anywhere. People within the Broadway community (or people who want to believe they are) like to think of him as much, much more famous than he really is. Although, there was probably a very good reason why his pre-taped interstitial segments didn't make the Tony telecast.
I know someone who is extremely close friends with "Seth." She even went to Brooklyn to see his community theatre production of Torch Song Trilogy. People at the event wouldn't stop talking about it, too, which - for some odd reason or another - totally reminded me of that "Smith Jarrod" episode of "Sex & the City."
Anyway, I suppose his whole gimmick is showing embarrassing videos of people and using a laser pen to highlight why, exactly, they're so embarrassing. If I could have gotten out every word he was saying, maybe it would have been less funny, but the whole inanity of his act had me rolling. Well done, man.
Angel-faced Tony winner Karen Ziemba sang the song Natalie Wood did in A Star Is Born. She was most excellent, even though the biggest "break" it got her was a bus-and-truck tour of A Chorus Line. Anyway, I was sitting behind Bob Martin for the show. That was kind of cool. But I've already been in such close proximity to him twice, it's kind of lost its shock value. And I own "Slings & Arrows" on DVD!
And a small note to Mmme. Gamgee: No, I was not aware that Elizabeth Wilson was in the building at any time. I did not even see her in the room.
So, I should probably get to the meat of this matter: How I really felt about the whole shebang and, more specifically, my world-rocking meeting with Barbara.
I was just sort of mingling by the silent auction items (among the more intriguing were a signed Joe Namath football and a "Get Boozy with Joanne!" Company party package she generously donated). She was hanging around, and before the party - during set-up, mind you, I was already acting like a total spazz. After that, she went to get dressed, and I just walked around the room wondering if I would be okay if I'd rather say nothing to her than say something totally spazzy and chickenshit.
I had promised myself I wouldn't even bid on anything at the silent auction. Not even the Broadway Joe football. No. The main reason I wanted to go to the shindig in the first place was, the moment after I saw Company, I really wanted to see Joanne up close and tell her how inspired I was by her performance in the show. Not saying, half-jokingly, "Man, you really rocked on the triangle! Totally reminded me of Patti in Sweeney!" That's not my style. At least, usually against my better judgment, it sometimes has to be under the social circumstance.
Also, I was almost cast in a show that same night that would have otherwise left me hanging on a thread. Two days after I sang for the composer, a former member of the theatre company came back and asked to be in the show, because he couldn't get any acting work: Man, them's the breaks.
But I decided to use the night to the best of my advantage. I had heard from "Mr. C." that she was planning on teaching a class that seemed like the sort of thing that would totally be up my alley and what I needed to know at the time. But, between the costs, as well as the unemployment issue, I pretty much ruled it out. I didn't think I would get in, and, worst of all, my "New Deal for Christmas" ruling was pretty much kaput: No way I was going to get a job and cast in a show this holiday season. Not with everything else in NYC filled up.
And yet, I was at this glamorous theatre industry party, drinking wine and staring at the walls in an uncomfortably cramped room full of middle-aged-to-elderly theatre patrons, deep-fried macaroni balls, and me being forced to help those old people up the steps to find their tables. Talking with the other people on the committee helped. One of the girls who was volunteering had her eye on one of the auction items, which was a guaranteed spot in Barbara's class. I was nice enough to ask about it, without being obtrusive. But I guess they knew I wanted it, with the very real chance of probably not even coming close. I wanted to ask Barbara herself, but the subject never came up in our very brief encounter.
Subsequently, I have gotten a full-time job and an e-mail from the artistic director of the other aforementioned theatre company saying I was currently in the running for another upcoming project. But those weren't feeding my jones. The one that actually got me thinking about grad school and a professional career in the first place.
So, after Mrs. C. stopped schmoozing with a young composer and waltzed over to display some of the auction items with us, I approached her:
"Excuse me, um, Barbara?"
"Yes?"
Well, what do you think I said?
"Omigod, I just w-want to say that, um, I saw Company, and you, your performance was just so inspiring, exciting, brilliant, amazing. I just, oh my god, it really inspired me. You were incredible."
And what did she say while she nodded warmly? "Thank you so much." She was totally professional, classy and courteous. However, even reading what I said aloud won't even do justice to how spazzy and nervous I was. I don't usually get nervous around people, but with that many people in that small a room? God darn it, I was shaking! When did I get so socially inept? I was even drinking wine, and I usually get more tense when I drink wine! At least, it probably accounted for me waving my wine glass to myself around the silent auction table, silently humming "I'll drink to that!"
I don't know if it was my sickness from living on the periphery for too long, or my sickness from the wine, but there were only two moments that night where I felt totally in my element. After telling some of the other "auction girls" to bid on things they really wanted, they convinced me to sign up for the spot in Barbara's upcoming class. I still haven't the faintest idea why I did it, but I had never felt so brave, out of my element, and alive. I don't know about you, but Broadway actors, even offstage, tend to seem larger than life. Their confidence sets them apart more than anything: And if I ever hear anyone sing "I Got Rhythm" with even half the enthusiasm as Beth Leavel did, I'll consider it quite a triumph for the human race.
I'm guessing I signed up for the class because it's been what I want. No, it is what I want, and if I don't even try to go for it the moment it gets within my reach, well, then I'd really be chickenshit.
Also, they really got kooky with the auction displays. The display for the class spot had old sheet music, including the beloved "Mr. Monotony," which I've been obsessed with ever since I returned that Jerome Robbins' Broadway CD to the library. I don't know why I trusted them. I had about sixty dollars to my name at the time, although I promised them I would keep my word. Here's hoping another Christmas miracle comes through for me, or else, the full-time work will perhaps speak for itself.
There was an "auction girl" who seemed to volunteer at pretty much every theatre-related function in the greater vicinity. She really wanted the class, and was eyeing me like a hawk, but she ultimately seemed sort of sympathetic to me and ceded over the class spot. I told her I would put in a good word for her with the committee if the class fit in with her work schedule. As it turns out, my blind assumptions on how the real world works failed me once again. Of course, she didn't have much of a work schedule: She was a student, and, I had to wonder, it is still too soon for me to become a full-time student again, isn't it? The girl seemed sort of sympathetic towards me. Not just having been directly involved with most of the planning and grunt work of the event, but she was studying musical theatre day and night on a completely unpredictable schedule. While I was lucky to have a certain educational and now professional track that's still completely wide open. Am I a total working woman yet? No. I just have something to do for eight hours a day that will keep me sane and put some more bagged salad on the table. But am I happy? Yes. Am I fulfilled? Sure. Do I want to learn more and add that knowledge, for better or worse, to my perspective on this world I am getting closer and closer to being a real part of? Yes.
Also, that bass line has crept into my brain like the clap.
There were two things I realized about a show like Company. When I saw it, I had that all-important realization that wasn't so much, "Those people are so amazing, they make it look so easy, I wish I could do that." But it was more like, "They make it look easy because it is easy. I could do that." It would take me some more time, but I could easily see myself in a show like Company, or a show like Les Miz, if and when I am ever be so inclined to follow that road. It's no longer a "would." It's a "could," that is rather gradually developing into a "should."
The other was, in the shows I've come to experience so many times over in the world of musical theatre (Guys & Dolls, The Music Man, Good News!) is that there really is no challenge or direction with ensemble work. The reality of musical theatre is that ninety percent of the time, it is ensemble work, and you never exactly start out being John Raitt. The only directive you receive is, "act happy!" Except for Cabaret or Sweeney, where it's always "act angsty!" And you always play outwards. While, in straight drama, like Chekhov and Largo Desolato, most people embrace and welcome the challenge; whereas I've always felt like you're forced to examine yourself and your emotions as inwardly as possible. There is an entire litany of shows and roles, both legit and musical, that I have never played where the emotions, the styles, and the personalities run the gamut, almost going outside of or in between the two radical extremes.
Only in a show like Company can you see someone playing even the shy, socially awkward, cello-playing introvert as outwardly accessible as possible. And it's when he drops the cello and is totally truthful, where he just says, "I hate my wife," that you know why people are so drawn to dramatic theatre in the first place. It's a shocking moment, but the added subtext of it being musical theatre almost blurs the line between the two. It's almost too easy to tell whose training was in straight drama, and whose was in musical theatre-although, now that I think about it, training is only relative when you know how to promote your own talents and abilities. And what I've seen in Company is that possibility to play outwards to an audience and entertain, but with these emotions of a much darker shade that you would not normally find in a narrow definition of musical theatre.
I was coming from a town where Sondheim was verboten and most shows they do now in New York, North Jersey, and Connecticut were on the "banned list." When I said to Seth's "friend" that I didn't want to do musicals because they were uninteresting and unchallenging, she said, "Well, obviously, you don't know what kind of musical theatre is out there." What I have been looking for isn't dramatic acting or improv or commercial work. What I want is something exciting, thought-provoking, and, yes, with a song in its heart. It's not what I've trained in specifically, but it's what I've wanted the most. My theory was always that I would become famous for another reason, and then just transition into doing musicals.
It's turned out a lot differently. Actually, it seems like this class would be the next logical step. Excuse me, should.
Well, I'm not famous yet. But I have now officially shared a dressing room with Joanne in Company. After the party, which was just after I found out I was doing the class with her, I got to talk with her and some of the other women on the committee about the show while we were taking our make-up off. And I was polite and completely un-spazzy. Which was nice. For the first time that night, I spoke for myself. I didn't stutter once, because we weren't around people. And, most importantly, we weren't around drinks. Anyway, there was one girl who said, "Man, you really rocked on the triangle! Totally reminded me of Patti in Sweeney!" And she went on gushing and laughing about the one-note sax trio in the show, which one may only sneak a passing glance at this blog's last few entry to know why I held my peace on that one.
Anyway, it's all over, and I'm so glad I was involved in the first place. Just when I was beginning to get fearful of my falling in with the actual Ladies Who Lunch, I know that this is life, and we take what comes with it. I hate to get all philosophical about this, but no matter how fantastic (or surprising, or predictable, or mundane) it can be, we still take what's handed to us, and use what comes naturally. It's like what Julie Halston said last night: "This is one of those nights you know can only happen in New York." And, unsurprisingly, one of the hottest auction items on the block was lunch with Dominick Dunne.
Hmm...What else? Well, it was my stepping outside of my shy element that got me on that committee in the first place. So, what was my reward after all of this mishegoss? A Thank-You note...made entirely out of gourmet chocolate.
I'll drink to that.
"Why would you worry about that? It won't affect how the phone works."
"I probably shouldn't have taken it tonight. Not in such a small purse. Maybe I should have brought a change of clothes."
"Rose, why are you second-guessing yourself? It's not like you bid on anything in the auction."
"Actually...I won something."
"What?"
Pause.
"I got into Barbara's class."
Piercing Scream on the other end of the line.
Well, last night was the benefit for the theatre company I'm involved in. I don't know how exactly they found me, or why exactly they chose me to participate in such a huge undertaking: but it's only the day after it happened that I realize how huge said undertaking actually was.
One thing I knew, or, at least, was aware of, was the fact that one of our committee members, and the wife of one of the cofounders, is a Broadway actress: She currently plays Joanne in Company. Now, I've never met her. To me, she has only been an e-mail, a face, a correspondence, or a voicemail. I've sort of been a liaison on the committee, especially, which has totally asked me to step out of my natural element and be sort of outgoing. Which is tough, because my natural (social) element is, for lack of a better term, chickenshit.
And meeting Joanne in Company is something you never think will happen; I mean, you don't spend your entire life agonizing over it, or hoping what one in a million chance of it actually happening even could. To me, Joanne in Company is like a rock star, and would be like meeting Usher or Madonna, in terms of how other, normal kids would have felt upon seeing their idols up close. Never mind that "Joanne" is a fictional character. My dear friend Erica has informed me, more than once, that it is the role I was born to play. I never saw the correlation, and neither has anyone I've told up close who knows this certain bon mot has been stated. Although I probably should admit that every time I hold a glass in my hand, I am always so tempted to start singing "The Ladies Who Lunch" that the social function in question, more often than not, comes to a screeching halt.
But if you read this blog, or, at least, take a passing glance at the entries of the past week or so, then you know that I finally saw Company live, in previews, on Broadway, up close, fifth row center. Although, most of my mentions of Company tend to revolve around few aspects I probably shouldn't emphasize, but I can't stop because I am obsessed: The depressing, conceptual theater-style lack of color, which in itself is its own punchline; the sheer hilarity of the actors-toting-instruments conceit, which, fundamentally, should fall somewhere between "The Banana Splits," "The Monkees," the synthesizers in Teeny Todd, and Hal Prince's production of Show Boat where all the African-American ensemble members moved the sets and scenery, on the "thin line between genius and embarrassing" scale; and the utter hotness-slash-talent of the actor-slash-cellist who plays David and understudies Robert (if he ever goes on, I am so hitting up TDF for tickets and asking for the refund that Raul Esparza's name-above-the-title contract so eloquently stipulates: Anyone wanna come with?).
If it helps, I've been telling anyone who cares that he looks a lot like what will happen when Orlando Bloom finally goes through puberty. This is not to be confused with Orlando Blaum, who does my chemical peels.
But I digress: After I saw Company,"Mrs. C." wasn't just Mrs. C. anymore to me. She was also the bold, ballsy woman who screamed "Everybody's...ROIDS! ROIDS! ROIDS!" in front of an audience of hundreds at the Ethel Barrymore theatre. And that's just wonderful.
Even knowing that at least one of the swingin' marrieds from Company was going to be at the fundraiser was reason enough for me to get excited. Until I saw Company, my only conception of the woman was just "Mrs. C." Not some glamorous boozehound in a blazer who treats her husband like a plaything. And, besides, who knows who else might have put in a donation to support the committee? Beth Leavel? Celia Keenan-Bolger? Manoel Felciano? Fred Rose?
I have to admit, it's fun dreaming about the various semi-famous/semi-anonymous, totally glamorous Broadway stars who might show up. Especially at Christmastime, in New York, where you can't go home for the holidays because you just got a full-time job, it keeps you sane - or at least helps ward off seasonal affective disorder.
One person I was sort of wishing could come? Celia's Les Miz costar Aaron "The Jewish John Raitt" Lazar. I'm actually thinking about applying to the same graduate school program he went through. Also? Too cute.
Well, three of all ain't bad.
Some highlights:
Host Julie Halston on Beth Leavel: "You know she's made it because she has a Tony, and guys are dressing as her at the Pride Parade."
Beth Leavel on her audition pieces: "I had an uptempo, a ballad, a legit aria, a comedy number, a jazz tune, and a Janis Joplin rock song...and they were all 'I Got Rhythm!'"
Julie Halston on a live auction Vespa that ultimately went unsold: "It's not like all of you don't have enough money to buy it."
Taboo star Liz McCartney on just having her second child and staying pretty: "Obviously, I look much different now. It's not like I'm Danny Burstein."
And, Halston on Bob Martin: "He's not gay."
Manoel Felciano on his first audition song: "This is Stephen Schwartz's favorite song. He hasn't cast me."
Manoel was actually the last to perform because he arrived at the very last minute dressed in a full suit and tie; probably because he had just come from another benefit down the street and in answer to Julie's question, "What are you doing now, Mano?" he said, "Unemployed!" He told the oft-recounted story of his miraculous rise to semi-fame, and, when he mentioned how he was discovered at Rodeo Bar, like, three or four people went, "Whoo!" (Me: "That's near my apartment!"). He even brought his guitar, and ad-libbed some funny jokes while they were trying to fix his microphone. Is he also a comedian? Because? Manoel Felciano? Should totally do improv. He's so much better at it than most of the dipwads I've dealt with in my advanced classes.
I still find it hilarious that a heartthrob like him is finally getting the preteen girls into Sondheim.
The other performances were interesting. Obviously, I didn't get to see them all. Danny Burstein was kept nicely sequestered from me. They knew.
Lisa Howard sang an awesome "Gorgeous" from The Apple Tree. She talked about how it took her years and years of waitressing, hostessing, and demonstrating toys at FAO Schwartz before she got cast on the national tour of Les Miz; which I personally find hard to believe. Supposedly, she was the one person in the history of her school to get the most agent invites ever. But I really, truly believed it last night coming from Lisa because she is adorable. And you totally can't make that shit up about having to demonstrate a game called "Butt-head."
I never really "got" Seth Rudetsky - aside from his Ken Jennings-like knowledge of all things Broadway and inimitable ability to work it all, rapid-fire, into literal seconds of any conversation. Seth strikes me as the most popular kid in school. And, if you don't know him as well as the other kids, you don't quite understand why he's so popular. But then you go outside of school (or you don't subscribe to Sirius satellite radio), and nobody anywhere else has ever heard of him. Anywhere. People within the Broadway community (or people who want to believe they are) like to think of him as much, much more famous than he really is. Although, there was probably a very good reason why his pre-taped interstitial segments didn't make the Tony telecast.
I know someone who is extremely close friends with "Seth." She even went to Brooklyn to see his community theatre production of Torch Song Trilogy. People at the event wouldn't stop talking about it, too, which - for some odd reason or another - totally reminded me of that "Smith Jarrod" episode of "Sex & the City."
Anyway, I suppose his whole gimmick is showing embarrassing videos of people and using a laser pen to highlight why, exactly, they're so embarrassing. If I could have gotten out every word he was saying, maybe it would have been less funny, but the whole inanity of his act had me rolling. Well done, man.
Angel-faced Tony winner Karen Ziemba sang the song Natalie Wood did in A Star Is Born. She was most excellent, even though the biggest "break" it got her was a bus-and-truck tour of A Chorus Line. Anyway, I was sitting behind Bob Martin for the show. That was kind of cool. But I've already been in such close proximity to him twice, it's kind of lost its shock value. And I own "Slings & Arrows" on DVD!
And a small note to Mmme. Gamgee: No, I was not aware that Elizabeth Wilson was in the building at any time. I did not even see her in the room.
So, I should probably get to the meat of this matter: How I really felt about the whole shebang and, more specifically, my world-rocking meeting with Barbara.
I was just sort of mingling by the silent auction items (among the more intriguing were a signed Joe Namath football and a "Get Boozy with Joanne!" Company party package she generously donated). She was hanging around, and before the party - during set-up, mind you, I was already acting like a total spazz. After that, she went to get dressed, and I just walked around the room wondering if I would be okay if I'd rather say nothing to her than say something totally spazzy and chickenshit.
I had promised myself I wouldn't even bid on anything at the silent auction. Not even the Broadway Joe football. No. The main reason I wanted to go to the shindig in the first place was, the moment after I saw Company, I really wanted to see Joanne up close and tell her how inspired I was by her performance in the show. Not saying, half-jokingly, "Man, you really rocked on the triangle! Totally reminded me of Patti in Sweeney!" That's not my style. At least, usually against my better judgment, it sometimes has to be under the social circumstance.
Also, I was almost cast in a show that same night that would have otherwise left me hanging on a thread. Two days after I sang for the composer, a former member of the theatre company came back and asked to be in the show, because he couldn't get any acting work: Man, them's the breaks.
But I decided to use the night to the best of my advantage. I had heard from "Mr. C." that she was planning on teaching a class that seemed like the sort of thing that would totally be up my alley and what I needed to know at the time. But, between the costs, as well as the unemployment issue, I pretty much ruled it out. I didn't think I would get in, and, worst of all, my "New Deal for Christmas" ruling was pretty much kaput: No way I was going to get a job and cast in a show this holiday season. Not with everything else in NYC filled up.
And yet, I was at this glamorous theatre industry party, drinking wine and staring at the walls in an uncomfortably cramped room full of middle-aged-to-elderly theatre patrons, deep-fried macaroni balls, and me being forced to help those old people up the steps to find their tables. Talking with the other people on the committee helped. One of the girls who was volunteering had her eye on one of the auction items, which was a guaranteed spot in Barbara's class. I was nice enough to ask about it, without being obtrusive. But I guess they knew I wanted it, with the very real chance of probably not even coming close. I wanted to ask Barbara herself, but the subject never came up in our very brief encounter.
Subsequently, I have gotten a full-time job and an e-mail from the artistic director of the other aforementioned theatre company saying I was currently in the running for another upcoming project. But those weren't feeding my jones. The one that actually got me thinking about grad school and a professional career in the first place.
So, after Mrs. C. stopped schmoozing with a young composer and waltzed over to display some of the auction items with us, I approached her:
"Excuse me, um, Barbara?"
"Yes?"
Well, what do you think I said?
"Omigod, I just w-want to say that, um, I saw Company, and you, your performance was just so inspiring, exciting, brilliant, amazing. I just, oh my god, it really inspired me. You were incredible."
And what did she say while she nodded warmly? "Thank you so much." She was totally professional, classy and courteous. However, even reading what I said aloud won't even do justice to how spazzy and nervous I was. I don't usually get nervous around people, but with that many people in that small a room? God darn it, I was shaking! When did I get so socially inept? I was even drinking wine, and I usually get more tense when I drink wine! At least, it probably accounted for me waving my wine glass to myself around the silent auction table, silently humming "I'll drink to that!"
I don't know if it was my sickness from living on the periphery for too long, or my sickness from the wine, but there were only two moments that night where I felt totally in my element. After telling some of the other "auction girls" to bid on things they really wanted, they convinced me to sign up for the spot in Barbara's upcoming class. I still haven't the faintest idea why I did it, but I had never felt so brave, out of my element, and alive. I don't know about you, but Broadway actors, even offstage, tend to seem larger than life. Their confidence sets them apart more than anything: And if I ever hear anyone sing "I Got Rhythm" with even half the enthusiasm as Beth Leavel did, I'll consider it quite a triumph for the human race.
I'm guessing I signed up for the class because it's been what I want. No, it is what I want, and if I don't even try to go for it the moment it gets within my reach, well, then I'd really be chickenshit.
Also, they really got kooky with the auction displays. The display for the class spot had old sheet music, including the beloved "Mr. Monotony," which I've been obsessed with ever since I returned that Jerome Robbins' Broadway CD to the library. I don't know why I trusted them. I had about sixty dollars to my name at the time, although I promised them I would keep my word. Here's hoping another Christmas miracle comes through for me, or else, the full-time work will perhaps speak for itself.
There was an "auction girl" who seemed to volunteer at pretty much every theatre-related function in the greater vicinity. She really wanted the class, and was eyeing me like a hawk, but she ultimately seemed sort of sympathetic to me and ceded over the class spot. I told her I would put in a good word for her with the committee if the class fit in with her work schedule. As it turns out, my blind assumptions on how the real world works failed me once again. Of course, she didn't have much of a work schedule: She was a student, and, I had to wonder, it is still too soon for me to become a full-time student again, isn't it? The girl seemed sort of sympathetic towards me. Not just having been directly involved with most of the planning and grunt work of the event, but she was studying musical theatre day and night on a completely unpredictable schedule. While I was lucky to have a certain educational and now professional track that's still completely wide open. Am I a total working woman yet? No. I just have something to do for eight hours a day that will keep me sane and put some more bagged salad on the table. But am I happy? Yes. Am I fulfilled? Sure. Do I want to learn more and add that knowledge, for better or worse, to my perspective on this world I am getting closer and closer to being a real part of? Yes.
Also, that bass line has crept into my brain like the clap.
There were two things I realized about a show like Company. When I saw it, I had that all-important realization that wasn't so much, "Those people are so amazing, they make it look so easy, I wish I could do that." But it was more like, "They make it look easy because it is easy. I could do that." It would take me some more time, but I could easily see myself in a show like Company, or a show like Les Miz, if and when I am ever be so inclined to follow that road. It's no longer a "would." It's a "could," that is rather gradually developing into a "should."
The other was, in the shows I've come to experience so many times over in the world of musical theatre (Guys & Dolls, The Music Man, Good News!) is that there really is no challenge or direction with ensemble work. The reality of musical theatre is that ninety percent of the time, it is ensemble work, and you never exactly start out being John Raitt. The only directive you receive is, "act happy!" Except for Cabaret or Sweeney, where it's always "act angsty!" And you always play outwards. While, in straight drama, like Chekhov and Largo Desolato, most people embrace and welcome the challenge; whereas I've always felt like you're forced to examine yourself and your emotions as inwardly as possible. There is an entire litany of shows and roles, both legit and musical, that I have never played where the emotions, the styles, and the personalities run the gamut, almost going outside of or in between the two radical extremes.
Only in a show like Company can you see someone playing even the shy, socially awkward, cello-playing introvert as outwardly accessible as possible. And it's when he drops the cello and is totally truthful, where he just says, "I hate my wife," that you know why people are so drawn to dramatic theatre in the first place. It's a shocking moment, but the added subtext of it being musical theatre almost blurs the line between the two. It's almost too easy to tell whose training was in straight drama, and whose was in musical theatre-although, now that I think about it, training is only relative when you know how to promote your own talents and abilities. And what I've seen in Company is that possibility to play outwards to an audience and entertain, but with these emotions of a much darker shade that you would not normally find in a narrow definition of musical theatre.
I was coming from a town where Sondheim was verboten and most shows they do now in New York, North Jersey, and Connecticut were on the "banned list." When I said to Seth's "friend" that I didn't want to do musicals because they were uninteresting and unchallenging, she said, "Well, obviously, you don't know what kind of musical theatre is out there." What I have been looking for isn't dramatic acting or improv or commercial work. What I want is something exciting, thought-provoking, and, yes, with a song in its heart. It's not what I've trained in specifically, but it's what I've wanted the most. My theory was always that I would become famous for another reason, and then just transition into doing musicals.
It's turned out a lot differently. Actually, it seems like this class would be the next logical step. Excuse me, should.
Well, I'm not famous yet. But I have now officially shared a dressing room with Joanne in Company. After the party, which was just after I found out I was doing the class with her, I got to talk with her and some of the other women on the committee about the show while we were taking our make-up off. And I was polite and completely un-spazzy. Which was nice. For the first time that night, I spoke for myself. I didn't stutter once, because we weren't around people. And, most importantly, we weren't around drinks. Anyway, there was one girl who said, "Man, you really rocked on the triangle! Totally reminded me of Patti in Sweeney!" And she went on gushing and laughing about the one-note sax trio in the show, which one may only sneak a passing glance at this blog's last few entry to know why I held my peace on that one.
Anyway, it's all over, and I'm so glad I was involved in the first place. Just when I was beginning to get fearful of my falling in with the actual Ladies Who Lunch, I know that this is life, and we take what comes with it. I hate to get all philosophical about this, but no matter how fantastic (or surprising, or predictable, or mundane) it can be, we still take what's handed to us, and use what comes naturally. It's like what Julie Halston said last night: "This is one of those nights you know can only happen in New York." And, unsurprisingly, one of the hottest auction items on the block was lunch with Dominick Dunne.
Hmm...What else? Well, it was my stepping outside of my shy element that got me on that committee in the first place. So, what was my reward after all of this mishegoss? A Thank-You note...made entirely out of gourmet chocolate.
I'll drink to that.
posted by Gypsy at 12:41 PM
0 comments
Monday, December 04, 2006
Havoc Answers Reader Mail
Or, Infrequently Asked Questions:
I know you write about theatre on this blog, but you seem to hate just about every movie you see. What was the last movie you saw? Did you like it?
I saw the quite smashing British comedy Mrs. Henderson Presents. Christoper Guest, Will Young, and lots of bawdy musical numbers? How about, yes, please! It’s a shame they don’t make movies like this in the states anymore. We could use more burlesque.
Why don't you like the saxophone trio in Company? What makes you think you have any right to comment on their playing?
Because I played the saxophone for more than two years in middle/high school band, that's why. And that was some poor-ass fingering!
Okay, I'll be nice about this and say that I don't expect the people in this show to have freaking degrees in their instruments-of-choice (although, according to the Playbill, at least two of them do...). They come from all kinds of backgrounds, and that's what makes the show richer: I have friends who concentrate in opera, drama, musical theatre, and composition, all of whom would be a very good fit for this type of show. Because they know how to play instruments forwards and backwards and wouldn't mind brushing up on that skill if it was in the name of a decent acting role. And the very diverse cast members in Company are certainly no exception to this sort of logic.
But having some of them learn their instruments at the last minute just to make a cute, cheeky song-and-dance number out of it kind of, sort of goes against what this concept is about. All creative people have numerous interests, and, if people were just so obsessed with only acting or singing, they probably wouldn't get anywhere in life. And I can understand why Kelly Grant, who plays Kathy, as well as the woman who played Sarah, would have an easier time learning the alto sax (since a flute essentially has the same fingerings and a much different embouchure) than the other two girls - although what would you make of switching from the violin, oboe, or tuba to something much, much different than those instruments? It could still take years just to get the fingerings right. Let alone how to blow into the thing. Or produce sound. It's still a misnomer in the Playbill. If those women "played" alto sax, then Raul Esparza also "played" the kazoo.
Furthermore, it's a safe bet that the actor who played David, was probably a clarinetist before this. Why? Because he played Ernst Ludwig in Cabaret (after Denis O'Hare, who played the clarinet in the original cast and made it a requirement for all subsequent actors in the Broadway role to learn the same instrument) and it is much easier to transition to both the alto sax (which has the same embouchure) and the tenor sax (which has the same fingerings and key notations). I know because I did. Actually, now that I think about it, Joyce Chittick did a darn fine job playing the alto sax in Cabaret, and she's rocked in other shows where she didn't have to play the instrument. So, why didn't they have the one actor in this show who played the clarinet learn the saxophone, too? Well, it probably wouldn't have looked nearly as sexy as the three girls dancing around with them - AND STILL SQUEAKING OFF-KEY.
Are you going to see Dreamgirls? And, if so, do you think Jennifer Hudson, Beyonce, and Eddie Murphy are going to win Oscars?
I knew someone was going to ask this question.
I am waiting to see it, but there's almost no doubt in my mind that it will be my Christmas Day movie: Me being a Jew, and the usual Christmas movies of years past usually turning out to be total dreck (Kate & Leopold, The Phantom of the Opera). I feel, Dreamgirls might be a step up. Those marketing geniuses!
I have been wanting to see the movie. I am sick of the constant hype. And I like Dreamgirls the musical fine. If you asked me if it deserved to split even the 1982 Tony Awards with the fabulously dark Yeston/Kopit/Tune masterpiece, Nine, then I'd say...Yes. Yes, always. When are we going to get a movie version of Nine, anyway? I can't help but feel like Antonio Banderas' performance in the Broadway revival essentially amounted to his big screen test for that role.
As for the Oscars, we'll see about that. I know for a fact they'll probably get nominated, but Hudson might not win. Especially if some out-of-left-field Marcia Gay Harden in Pollock performance comes out of a blue. She probably will, only because the role was considered a lead on Broadway and won the Tony: and she probably shouldn't be in the Supporting category with the movie. I always felt totally indifferent about Hudson on "Idol": She was neither particularly spectacular, nor earth-shatteringly awful (especially since she was only doing Manilow songs on that show), and I never heard anything truly great or in her support before she got kicked off the show. I haven't heard a truly brilliant version of the "I Am Telling You" song since Billy Porter on the original "Star Search" anyway (and that includes the first two seasons of "Idol" with Frenchie and Tamyra), so, she doesn't strike me as really that great. There was nobody that worse than her who didn't deserve to go in her stead, actually. So, it really was much ado about nothing then, and it's a moot point now. Jennifer Holliday has nothing to worry about, and she's got, like, a villa in Germany.
As for Murphy, he'll definitely win the Oscar. It's funny. I was spending some minutes on the BroadwayWorld.com Tony database (Wait...Howard McGillin was nominated for Best Actor for Anything Goes? I didn't know that!") just to verify a fact for my inevitable punchline about him winning an Oscar for this role. I know, I know: Cleavant Derricks won the Tony for the same role in 1982 and went on to "Sliders" and Brooklyn: The Musical. But this is still Eddie, and the theatre world is a vastly different ballpark than Hollywood and the Oscars.
It still won't change anything. The day after Eddie wins the Oscar, he'll go right back to making Daddy Day Care 2: Child Support.
What song is in your head right now?
"Anything Goes." Although I have no idea why...
What music are you currently listening to? It can't just all be showtunes.
You're right. I can't just listen to showtunes all the time. Right now, it's a decidedly mixed bag of Gnarls Barkley, PJ Harvey, Gwen Stefani, Blondie, Garbage, and Chet Baker, just to name a few.
And I kinda started liking Andrew Lloyd Webber. There, I said it.
Why won't you read my emails? And how can I be sure that you aren't reading my emails anyway? How come you didn't see my last one-man show?
Oh, Mr. Zalben. You're asking about the one-night-only Learning Annex class I registered and paid for but couldn't go to because of a family emergency and then got a credit which I never used because I don't give a shit about your real estate expo? Not even the Trump can woo me over to the bad side.
Okay. You all know I'm probably not reading your emails because, if I did, I'd be responding to them. I'm smart enough to know what politeness and common courtesy aren't, so you wouldn't otherwise interpret my not answering them personally as a brushing-off.
As for your one-man show, if it's not personalized or spam, I don't care. I am not seeing it, because it probably sounds as desperate as it looks.
Some people are just sick f*cks any way you slice them.
Would you ever want to be in Les Miserables?
How dare you!
The answer is yes.
You really wouldn't say those things about the cast of Company, would you? You didn't just not love all of them or whatever?
Well, I just didn't not love the show's dark shading. Actually, I've been thinking about how much I really loved that whole show in retrospect, and that goes for most of the cast. Even the woman who played Susan grew on me. I love her now! And knowing she's not really from the South is half the battle.
So what roles do you really want to play?
Oh, my loyal fans (both of you). I will have to get back to you on that one. I'm afraid that's another answer for another blog entry.
And I need to do my hair.
All right, one more question:
What is your take on the Clay/Rosie incident?
What? That is so two weeks ago!
Actually, I have to say that Rosie made a stupid-ass remark, not Kelly. Wait: Isn't Rosie being homophobic just by virtue of making that comment? Why isn't anyone pointing that out?
Well, Clay has never publicly acknowledged that he's gay: A lot of people and the media have, well, by relying on naive stereotypes. He hangs around other men on the beach. He jazz-hands to Barry Manilow songs. He's never actually performed showtunes, but people lump him in that musical category anyway...
So, Rosie's the one relying on naive stereotypes, which actually justifies her own homophobia. And we all know she is a homosexual, because she has publicly acknowledged it as her identity. I know what Rosie meant, but it just won't fly with me as anything less than offensive. And I know what Clay meant, but he shouldn't have been cohosting a talk show in the first place, because that was strictly unprofessional and uncalled-for. He's appeared on television shows in the past where he's had to do everything but sing Manilow and clearly he has no presence or talent for it. Remember when he was on "Saturday Night Live"? Fans, the guy made Ron Reagan look like Buck Henry. And I'm not saying Clay is gay. I'm just saying that he shouldn't be around teleprompters.
What Clay needs to do is come out of the closet, if he's gay, or else what Kelly probably meant will go unnoticed. For all we know, she probably saw him in the bathroom not washing his hands. That's not the only explanation. What Rosie said was still the homphobic remark right there, because she was the one who worked the gay aspect of the stupid "issue" into the "issue" in the first place.
Whatever. I'm not even a fan of any of them anyway.
I know you write about theatre on this blog, but you seem to hate just about every movie you see. What was the last movie you saw? Did you like it?
I saw the quite smashing British comedy Mrs. Henderson Presents. Christoper Guest, Will Young, and lots of bawdy musical numbers? How about, yes, please! It’s a shame they don’t make movies like this in the states anymore. We could use more burlesque.
Why don't you like the saxophone trio in Company? What makes you think you have any right to comment on their playing?
Because I played the saxophone for more than two years in middle/high school band, that's why. And that was some poor-ass fingering!
Okay, I'll be nice about this and say that I don't expect the people in this show to have freaking degrees in their instruments-of-choice (although, according to the Playbill, at least two of them do...). They come from all kinds of backgrounds, and that's what makes the show richer: I have friends who concentrate in opera, drama, musical theatre, and composition, all of whom would be a very good fit for this type of show. Because they know how to play instruments forwards and backwards and wouldn't mind brushing up on that skill if it was in the name of a decent acting role. And the very diverse cast members in Company are certainly no exception to this sort of logic.
But having some of them learn their instruments at the last minute just to make a cute, cheeky song-and-dance number out of it kind of, sort of goes against what this concept is about. All creative people have numerous interests, and, if people were just so obsessed with only acting or singing, they probably wouldn't get anywhere in life. And I can understand why Kelly Grant, who plays Kathy, as well as the woman who played Sarah, would have an easier time learning the alto sax (since a flute essentially has the same fingerings and a much different embouchure) than the other two girls - although what would you make of switching from the violin, oboe, or tuba to something much, much different than those instruments? It could still take years just to get the fingerings right. Let alone how to blow into the thing. Or produce sound. It's still a misnomer in the Playbill. If those women "played" alto sax, then Raul Esparza also "played" the kazoo.
Furthermore, it's a safe bet that the actor who played David, was probably a clarinetist before this. Why? Because he played Ernst Ludwig in Cabaret (after Denis O'Hare, who played the clarinet in the original cast and made it a requirement for all subsequent actors in the Broadway role to learn the same instrument) and it is much easier to transition to both the alto sax (which has the same embouchure) and the tenor sax (which has the same fingerings and key notations). I know because I did. Actually, now that I think about it, Joyce Chittick did a darn fine job playing the alto sax in Cabaret, and she's rocked in other shows where she didn't have to play the instrument. So, why didn't they have the one actor in this show who played the clarinet learn the saxophone, too? Well, it probably wouldn't have looked nearly as sexy as the three girls dancing around with them - AND STILL SQUEAKING OFF-KEY.
Are you going to see Dreamgirls? And, if so, do you think Jennifer Hudson, Beyonce, and Eddie Murphy are going to win Oscars?
I knew someone was going to ask this question.
I am waiting to see it, but there's almost no doubt in my mind that it will be my Christmas Day movie: Me being a Jew, and the usual Christmas movies of years past usually turning out to be total dreck (Kate & Leopold, The Phantom of the Opera). I feel, Dreamgirls might be a step up. Those marketing geniuses!
I have been wanting to see the movie. I am sick of the constant hype. And I like Dreamgirls the musical fine. If you asked me if it deserved to split even the 1982 Tony Awards with the fabulously dark Yeston/Kopit/Tune masterpiece, Nine, then I'd say...Yes. Yes, always. When are we going to get a movie version of Nine, anyway? I can't help but feel like Antonio Banderas' performance in the Broadway revival essentially amounted to his big screen test for that role.
As for the Oscars, we'll see about that. I know for a fact they'll probably get nominated, but Hudson might not win. Especially if some out-of-left-field Marcia Gay Harden in Pollock performance comes out of a blue. She probably will, only because the role was considered a lead on Broadway and won the Tony: and she probably shouldn't be in the Supporting category with the movie. I always felt totally indifferent about Hudson on "Idol": She was neither particularly spectacular, nor earth-shatteringly awful (especially since she was only doing Manilow songs on that show), and I never heard anything truly great or in her support before she got kicked off the show. I haven't heard a truly brilliant version of the "I Am Telling You" song since Billy Porter on the original "Star Search" anyway (and that includes the first two seasons of "Idol" with Frenchie and Tamyra), so, she doesn't strike me as really that great. There was nobody that worse than her who didn't deserve to go in her stead, actually. So, it really was much ado about nothing then, and it's a moot point now. Jennifer Holliday has nothing to worry about, and she's got, like, a villa in Germany.
As for Murphy, he'll definitely win the Oscar. It's funny. I was spending some minutes on the BroadwayWorld.com Tony database (Wait...Howard McGillin was nominated for Best Actor for Anything Goes? I didn't know that!") just to verify a fact for my inevitable punchline about him winning an Oscar for this role. I know, I know: Cleavant Derricks won the Tony for the same role in 1982 and went on to "Sliders" and Brooklyn: The Musical. But this is still Eddie, and the theatre world is a vastly different ballpark than Hollywood and the Oscars.
It still won't change anything. The day after Eddie wins the Oscar, he'll go right back to making Daddy Day Care 2: Child Support.
What song is in your head right now?
"Anything Goes." Although I have no idea why...
What music are you currently listening to? It can't just all be showtunes.
You're right. I can't just listen to showtunes all the time. Right now, it's a decidedly mixed bag of Gnarls Barkley, PJ Harvey, Gwen Stefani, Blondie, Garbage, and Chet Baker, just to name a few.
And I kinda started liking Andrew Lloyd Webber. There, I said it.
Why won't you read my emails? And how can I be sure that you aren't reading my emails anyway? How come you didn't see my last one-man show?
Oh, Mr. Zalben. You're asking about the one-night-only Learning Annex class I registered and paid for but couldn't go to because of a family emergency and then got a credit which I never used because I don't give a shit about your real estate expo? Not even the Trump can woo me over to the bad side.
Okay. You all know I'm probably not reading your emails because, if I did, I'd be responding to them. I'm smart enough to know what politeness and common courtesy aren't, so you wouldn't otherwise interpret my not answering them personally as a brushing-off.
As for your one-man show, if it's not personalized or spam, I don't care. I am not seeing it, because it probably sounds as desperate as it looks.
Some people are just sick f*cks any way you slice them.
Would you ever want to be in Les Miserables?
How dare you!
The answer is yes.
You really wouldn't say those things about the cast of Company, would you? You didn't just not love all of them or whatever?
Well, I just didn't not love the show's dark shading. Actually, I've been thinking about how much I really loved that whole show in retrospect, and that goes for most of the cast. Even the woman who played Susan grew on me. I love her now! And knowing she's not really from the South is half the battle.
So what roles do you really want to play?
Oh, my loyal fans (both of you). I will have to get back to you on that one. I'm afraid that's another answer for another blog entry.
And I need to do my hair.
All right, one more question:
What is your take on the Clay/Rosie incident?
What? That is so two weeks ago!
Actually, I have to say that Rosie made a stupid-ass remark, not Kelly. Wait: Isn't Rosie being homophobic just by virtue of making that comment? Why isn't anyone pointing that out?
Well, Clay has never publicly acknowledged that he's gay: A lot of people and the media have, well, by relying on naive stereotypes. He hangs around other men on the beach. He jazz-hands to Barry Manilow songs. He's never actually performed showtunes, but people lump him in that musical category anyway...
So, Rosie's the one relying on naive stereotypes, which actually justifies her own homophobia. And we all know she is a homosexual, because she has publicly acknowledged it as her identity. I know what Rosie meant, but it just won't fly with me as anything less than offensive. And I know what Clay meant, but he shouldn't have been cohosting a talk show in the first place, because that was strictly unprofessional and uncalled-for. He's appeared on television shows in the past where he's had to do everything but sing Manilow and clearly he has no presence or talent for it. Remember when he was on "Saturday Night Live"? Fans, the guy made Ron Reagan look like Buck Henry. And I'm not saying Clay is gay. I'm just saying that he shouldn't be around teleprompters.
What Clay needs to do is come out of the closet, if he's gay, or else what Kelly probably meant will go unnoticed. For all we know, she probably saw him in the bathroom not washing his hands. That's not the only explanation. What Rosie said was still the homphobic remark right there, because she was the one who worked the gay aspect of the stupid "issue" into the "issue" in the first place.
Whatever. I'm not even a fan of any of them anyway.
posted by Gypsy at 11:59 AM
0 comments
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Inevitable Punchlines: Keep 'em Coming!
This is what happens when I can't sleep.
And it's a weekend. When even the almighty D on "Saturday Night Live" can't hold my attention, you know it's urgent. I don't like this new backing band. There, I said it. I prefer the all-stars. And didn't they already go on "SNL"? When Matthew Broderick hosted and Natalie Merchant was on as well?
I know this because I wore out that tape in middle school.
I actually am rather guilty of sadly inflicting the D on my friends sometime between junior year of high school and freshman year in college. It was always something with my biggest musical obsessions, from No Doubt to the Assassins soundtrack. All things considered - I was pretty on the mark for those!
And I had some friends who cared. When I was obsessed with ND (around the time the Beacon Street LP came out), the whole world - as it seemed, a vague simulacrum of it - was totally into Bush. Perhaps one of the shittiest post-grunge bands ever prefabricated/assembled. When No Doubt finally opened for Bush on their Second Stone tour, I finally had an excuse to be around people I went to school with, albeit outside of school. For better or for worse. It was still my first rock concert, and I was more jazzed about the opening act anyway. I defy you to find a better rendition of "Excuse Me, Mr." than the one Mlle. Gwen and Co. did at the Kansas Coliseum those many moons ago. Or anything else, for that matter.
And it took me well over two years just to find people, anyone, who could sing the other parts to my tour-de-force of a reverse-gender bedroom version of John Wilkes Booth (still do). Happily, my best friend does a killer (no pun intended) John Hinckley, and another close bud professed a lifelong dream to fill Neil Patrick Harris' and Patrick Cassidy's shoes as the very first female Balladeer.
For those who asked, the job does not, by any means, show signs of me giving up on "the actor thing" or "the singer thing." If anything, it's strengthened my resolve. Par example, a certain local theatre company was having auditions for a role I've coveted pretty much ever since said play was written.
I decided not to go. I had class anyway, and decided that evening rehearsals would be moot if I wasn't doing something even remotely productive during the days. Especially if I had to take over an hour on the subway just to get to the evening audition time. What happens? They have an extra day of auditions, and the role I wanted was already filled. Meaning there are a lot, really, seriously - more than I could have ever assumed that there would have been - of early twentysomething postgrad aspiring professional actresses in New York City.
I mean, my idea of the fulfilled life, of the early twentysomething postgrad variety, would not include working at an investment bank (which, by the way, is every single response to our "Class News" section in the alumni quarterly). It would mean having a job. Having a life. Passion. That cool thing you do with a hip, downtown theatre company that loves you. And always, always working toward a goal. No matter how far-fetched that goal would seem to your parents. Or yourself. Or mere mortals. Or those around you who have fulfilled it and lived to show their own personal battle scars.
So what happens, in effect, is me getting totally excited for our annual fundraiser, because the author of said play (and a total hero of mine) is speaking at the event. Maybe I actually could tell him how I feel about his brilliant work without plotzing, but then, who knows who's going to even show up to that thing? We've just added two new performers to the roster, and who knows who else is going to have a ball come "No Show Monday"? 'Haps, maybe?
And I'm glad I get to spend Monday night partying and not rehearsing/performing/enacting a demonstration for the patrons of the arts. Or shlepping to the third area code to do a show I've always wanted to do that does not have any songs in it by Stephen Sondheim. If I get to play my dream role, I'm going to do it up right. And that means waiting until the next opportunity comes along. I don't care how long it takes. I am going to do a Sondheim show one of these days, even if it's in a Church basement in the outerborough.
Which is funny, because look who played Booth in their 1997 production of Assassins:
If that's not enuff pruf, guess who was young, healthy, and non-Equity when he played John Hinckley in the same show:
And it's a weekend. When even the almighty D on "Saturday Night Live" can't hold my attention, you know it's urgent. I don't like this new backing band. There, I said it. I prefer the all-stars. And didn't they already go on "SNL"? When Matthew Broderick hosted and Natalie Merchant was on as well?
I know this because I wore out that tape in middle school.
I actually am rather guilty of sadly inflicting the D on my friends sometime between junior year of high school and freshman year in college. It was always something with my biggest musical obsessions, from No Doubt to the Assassins soundtrack. All things considered - I was pretty on the mark for those!
And I had some friends who cared. When I was obsessed with ND (around the time the Beacon Street LP came out), the whole world - as it seemed, a vague simulacrum of it - was totally into Bush. Perhaps one of the shittiest post-grunge bands ever prefabricated/assembled. When No Doubt finally opened for Bush on their Second Stone tour, I finally had an excuse to be around people I went to school with, albeit outside of school. For better or for worse. It was still my first rock concert, and I was more jazzed about the opening act anyway. I defy you to find a better rendition of "Excuse Me, Mr." than the one Mlle. Gwen and Co. did at the Kansas Coliseum those many moons ago. Or anything else, for that matter.
And it took me well over two years just to find people, anyone, who could sing the other parts to my tour-de-force of a reverse-gender bedroom version of John Wilkes Booth (still do). Happily, my best friend does a killer (no pun intended) John Hinckley, and another close bud professed a lifelong dream to fill Neil Patrick Harris' and Patrick Cassidy's shoes as the very first female Balladeer.
For those who asked, the job does not, by any means, show signs of me giving up on "the actor thing" or "the singer thing." If anything, it's strengthened my resolve. Par example, a certain local theatre company was having auditions for a role I've coveted pretty much ever since said play was written.
I decided not to go. I had class anyway, and decided that evening rehearsals would be moot if I wasn't doing something even remotely productive during the days. Especially if I had to take over an hour on the subway just to get to the evening audition time. What happens? They have an extra day of auditions, and the role I wanted was already filled. Meaning there are a lot, really, seriously - more than I could have ever assumed that there would have been - of early twentysomething postgrad aspiring professional actresses in New York City.
I mean, my idea of the fulfilled life, of the early twentysomething postgrad variety, would not include working at an investment bank (which, by the way, is every single response to our "Class News" section in the alumni quarterly). It would mean having a job. Having a life. Passion. That cool thing you do with a hip, downtown theatre company that loves you. And always, always working toward a goal. No matter how far-fetched that goal would seem to your parents. Or yourself. Or mere mortals. Or those around you who have fulfilled it and lived to show their own personal battle scars.
So what happens, in effect, is me getting totally excited for our annual fundraiser, because the author of said play (and a total hero of mine) is speaking at the event. Maybe I actually could tell him how I feel about his brilliant work without plotzing, but then, who knows who's going to even show up to that thing? We've just added two new performers to the roster, and who knows who else is going to have a ball come "No Show Monday"? 'Haps, maybe?
And I'm glad I get to spend Monday night partying and not rehearsing/performing/enacting a demonstration for the patrons of the arts. Or shlepping to the third area code to do a show I've always wanted to do that does not have any songs in it by Stephen Sondheim. If I get to play my dream role, I'm going to do it up right. And that means waiting until the next opportunity comes along. I don't care how long it takes. I am going to do a Sondheim show one of these days, even if it's in a Church basement in the outerborough.
Which is funny, because look who played Booth in their 1997 production of Assassins:
If that's not enuff pruf, guess who was young, healthy, and non-Equity when he played John Hinckley in the same show:
That's right: Weird Al in the "White and Nerdy" video!
I make all of my sandwiches with may-o-nnaise!
posted by Gypsy at 12:09 AM
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Friday, December 01, 2006
North's Tevye made me cry.
Okay, I listened to all of the Jerome Robbins' Broadway CD. Until they give Michael Bennett the Fosse treatment, I'm going to have to withhold judgment on this for a while. And that tribute to him on the 1976 Tony Awards I found on YouTube during a recent fit of boredom doesn't count!
Also, my back really hurts. Probably accounts for why I've been so bored lately. Long story short, we learned how to swing dance. And I know most people don't even get to learn how to swing dance in their lifetimes, but I didn't think it would happen this soon.
I now have newfound respectability for Emmitt Smith.
Most obtrusive aspect of Jerome Robbins' Broadway: Costanza's Krusty the Klown accent during the Fiddler on the Roof number.
And I really love you all. If I didn't, I wouldn't be linking to this b-roll footage of the Company cast I'm currently watching over an Oreck infomercial on WLNY.
Also, Riedel.
So, in conclusion, my mom has no real reason to worry. She just needs to find copies of Not Since Carrie and Donna McKechnie's memoirs for me this Hanukkah and no one gets hurt...I mean hugged.
Happy Friday, everybody!
posted by Gypsy at 11:02 AM
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About Me
- Name: Gypsy
- Location: New York, New York, United States
Hello, everybody. My name is Havoc. What's yours?
Previous Posts
- It's About Time.
- No, I didn't die.
- Good News for Kramer!
- Is the Broadway Overture Dead?
- The Top 10 Things That Made Me Laugh This Week
- Look who's replacing Big Pussy on "DWtS."
- Blood for Creme!
- I could really use some new shoes.
- And while I'm at it...
- Every time I see this commercial.
Archives
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