1) LEGALLY BLONDE: THE MUSICAL is the best musical ever, including the works of Stephen Sondheim, Leonard Bernstein, Gilbert and Sullivan and Puccini.
2) Elle Woods is the greatest role ever devised for the stage. It makes Lady Macbeth look like a non-speaking spot in a regional tampon commercial.
3) Seriously, LEGALLY BLONDE: THE MUSICAL is great. You should probably get tickets to it.
4) Elle Woods is the most demanding role ever visited on an actress. Laura Bell Bundy must be the offspring of the Energizer Bunny and God On High to perform this role every night.
5) Laura Bell Bundy is the offspring of the Energizer Bunny and God On High. Seriously. Sometimes she doesn't even show up for the show, and the audience still gives her a standing ovation. She's that good. I heard she made Meryl Streep consider a career in air conditioner maintenance.
6) I just checked, and there are still tickets to LEGALLY BLONDE: THE MUSICAL. You're gonna want one of these things.
7) Laura Bell Bundy is so good that, literally, the only person in the world who could possibly succeed her in this role is one of fifteen amateurs, many of whom gleefully acknowledge that they aren't really triple-threats, but maybe only double-threats, or maybe just really threatening singers.
8) Paul Canaan is qualified to cast a Broadway show, despite the fact that his biggest role to date was Clo-Clo in LA CAGE AUX FOLLES. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that, eight times a week, he gets to dance with six other guys somewhere in the vicinity of Laura Bell Bundy.
9) Paul Canaan really wants a TV show. Like, for serious. Has Sean Hayes or, I don't know, Carson Kressley passed on a project you pitched recently? Offer it to Paul. He's literally waiting for your call right now.
9) LEGALLY BLONDE: THE MUSICAL.
10) Hayley Duff apparently got some experimental plastic surgery where they replaced her entire face with the face of a thirty-five-year-old Las Vegas showgirl.
11) Bernie Telsey is an extremely intelligent, knowledgable, thoughtful and experienced casting director.
12) Bernie Telsey makes Heather Hach and Paul Canaan look like Bernie Telsey's interns.
13) LEGALLY BLONDE: THE MUSICAL is the best LEGALLY BLONDE: THE MUSICAL to ever LEGALLY BLONDE: THE MUSICAL.
14) It's okay for a TV show to have a title that's 11 words long and contains two punctuation marks.
Monday, June 9, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Jason Robert Brown partially restores my faith in American theatre
I have this sort of historical fiction in my head. In it, I'm the same me that I am now, the same age, doing the same job that I do now and find myself confronted by the same problem: I see a lot of shows and the overwhelming majority of those shows aren't very good. "Overwhelming" is a word I use because I am often "overwhelmed" by feelings of discouragement.
In my historical fiction, though, it's 2002. And I've been sent to the Minetta Lane Theatre to see "The Last Five Years," a sung through musical written by a more-or-less unknown composer named Jason Robert Brown, whose only credit to speak of was a musical revue that ran for 12 performances at the WPA seven years ago. I'm probably covering it because Hal Prince's daughter is directing it. I get to Minetta Lane figuring that any halfway decent musical would be playing at a bigger house than this. I get my program and my seat. My heart sinks when I see that Brown wrote the music and the lyrics and that there's no book and -- God... -- he's conducting the modest pit orchestra. Fantastic... another ill-conceived vanity project which, for reasons unknown, has curried the kind of favor that sees Hal Prince's daughter directing your play at the Minetta Lane. And it's a two-hander. Shoot me. Please.
The set's confusing. I think I'm looking down on a wedding reception. Oh dear God, I hope this isn't a relationship yarn. I hate yarns.
The lights come down. A few rolling piano chords and we're off.
And ninety minutes later, I remember why I love theatre.
For some reason, the image of a younger Jason Robert Brown back stage at Minetta Lane, in his blacks, behind a beat up piano, conducting an orchestra of six (including himself) kept coming back to me tonight, as I watched him, in a thermal and slacks, behind an immaculate baby grand, conducting that same orchestra of six at Birdland and he and Lauren Kennedy sang through the score. In the six years between my fantasy and today, "The Last Five Years" has achieved a cult status to rival almost any other show out there, save "Rent" or "Rocky Horror." Its tunes have become a favorite for auditioners and cabaret artists alike. Brown's won a Tony and been nominated for another. He's a rockstar in the theatre community. But six years ago, he wasn't anybody. He was pounding it out for a buck just like any artist trying to make it. That fact is nothing short of magical. And I couldn't get it out of my head tonight.
But that's not really the point. That's kind of abstract and the point is pretty simple: "The Last Five Years" is a fucking good show. And it didn't come from the National in London. And there wasn't an industry reading of it to encourage a bidding war. It started in Skokie, IL and then moved to the big city (sans half its actors) and there it was. The simple fact that a great play just appeared at a small theatre downtown gives me scads of hope. IT COULD HAPPEN. Those three words are exciting. I could go downtown to some studio theater that I've never been to and I could stumble into a beautiful, wonderful show. It's possible. It has happened before. It could happen again.
Great shows are not to provenance of agents and managers and cynical artistic officers.
They don't have to be heralded by great reviews from abroad or from the major regionals.
They can just come from one guy and a piano backstage.
In my historical fiction, though, it's 2002. And I've been sent to the Minetta Lane Theatre to see "The Last Five Years," a sung through musical written by a more-or-less unknown composer named Jason Robert Brown, whose only credit to speak of was a musical revue that ran for 12 performances at the WPA seven years ago. I'm probably covering it because Hal Prince's daughter is directing it. I get to Minetta Lane figuring that any halfway decent musical would be playing at a bigger house than this. I get my program and my seat. My heart sinks when I see that Brown wrote the music and the lyrics and that there's no book and -- God... -- he's conducting the modest pit orchestra. Fantastic... another ill-conceived vanity project which, for reasons unknown, has curried the kind of favor that sees Hal Prince's daughter directing your play at the Minetta Lane. And it's a two-hander. Shoot me. Please.
The set's confusing. I think I'm looking down on a wedding reception. Oh dear God, I hope this isn't a relationship yarn. I hate yarns.
The lights come down. A few rolling piano chords and we're off.
And ninety minutes later, I remember why I love theatre.
For some reason, the image of a younger Jason Robert Brown back stage at Minetta Lane, in his blacks, behind a beat up piano, conducting an orchestra of six (including himself) kept coming back to me tonight, as I watched him, in a thermal and slacks, behind an immaculate baby grand, conducting that same orchestra of six at Birdland and he and Lauren Kennedy sang through the score. In the six years between my fantasy and today, "The Last Five Years" has achieved a cult status to rival almost any other show out there, save "Rent" or "Rocky Horror." Its tunes have become a favorite for auditioners and cabaret artists alike. Brown's won a Tony and been nominated for another. He's a rockstar in the theatre community. But six years ago, he wasn't anybody. He was pounding it out for a buck just like any artist trying to make it. That fact is nothing short of magical. And I couldn't get it out of my head tonight.
But that's not really the point. That's kind of abstract and the point is pretty simple: "The Last Five Years" is a fucking good show. And it didn't come from the National in London. And there wasn't an industry reading of it to encourage a bidding war. It started in Skokie, IL and then moved to the big city (sans half its actors) and there it was. The simple fact that a great play just appeared at a small theatre downtown gives me scads of hope. IT COULD HAPPEN. Those three words are exciting. I could go downtown to some studio theater that I've never been to and I could stumble into a beautiful, wonderful show. It's possible. It has happened before. It could happen again.
Great shows are not to provenance of agents and managers and cynical artistic officers.
They don't have to be heralded by great reviews from abroad or from the major regionals.
They can just come from one guy and a piano backstage.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Lost Season Premiere
The season premiere of LOST rates a solid C. Locke taking control of a group of survivors, a new character portrayed by Jeremy Davies, "The Oceanic 6": good. Charlie the Friendly Ghost, humorless Hurley, and enough riddles to choke a sphinx: bad. All in all a definite entry in the "crusty/creaky" genre of LOST episodes.
After the decided lull in the middle of season three, I think we all suspected that the Bad Robot idea well might be, if not running dry, then certainly kicking up brackish water. Add that downturn in creativity to bloated expectations following a ridiculously long inter-season hiatus, and you're looking at a recipe for a disappointment casserole. That this episode wasn't great doesn't bother me, what does is that I have a sneaking suspicion that LOST might be over, or, at least, that I might be over LOST.
Here are the clues from which I draw my conclusion:
1) The change in format. Flash forwards? Great idea. I'm 100% behind them. We've spent so much time exploring the characters' myriad (often tedious) backstories, that I'm more than happy to get a change of perspective. But, you can't disagree that going to flash forwards fundementally changes the dynamic of the show. Regardless of how they frame the show, the narrative that we ostensibly care about is the one that's happening on the island. The way the show works is that we watch the island, we have no fucking idea what's going on, we see a flash back, and we understand a little better. It's a gradual enlightening process that's quite effective. What we have now is this sort of teasing process. We watch the island, we have no fucking idea what's going on, we see a flash forward that promises that what's going on is totally significant somehow, then we go back to island and still have no fucking idea what's going on. Which brings me to my next point:
2) The delicate balance of LOST. So, the main driving force behind LOST is confusion and the basic human want to overcome confusion. For the first two seasons, LOST was effective because it answered as many questions as it posed, so you were constantly feeling that relief of understanding but, at the same time, you were always tantalized. This new format obviously lends itself to asking more questions than it answers. Already, within the first episode, I find myself drooling all over myself, hungry for answers to about a thousand questions. How did they get off the island? Why did Hurley regret going with Locke? Who's that well dressed, bald gentleman? So many questions and more to come next week. And when will we get answers to these questions? Well, even in the future, most of the characters seem not to know what the hell is going on, so I'm guessing not any time soon.
3) The other delicate balance of LOST. I've always loved that the secrets of LOST seem so out of the ordinary. There's a mysterious island, but it seems to exist within some set of scientific rules. There are explanations for things which are, in some way, worldly and comprehensible. That fact is pretty much mandatory in a universe where I expect, at some point, I'll understand what's going on. So, when the show starts employing ghosts and people teleporting and houses appearing out of nowhere, I start to wonder if I'm really getting in to something I can get myself out of, or if I'm ultimately going to find that I've wandered into supernatural-land, and that the show is just going to throw up its hands and say "Yeah, the supernatural... who knows?"
The thing is that LOST isn't the best written or produced show on TV, so, to hold my attention, they have to be pretty meticulous in their plotting. They have to give me stuff that I like (read: compelling questions and satisfying answers) and keep the stuff I don't (read: almost everything else except for John Locke and Ben Linus... and Evangeline Lilly... but not Kate Austen). I've still got (not particularly high) hopes that next week's episode will pull us back from the edge and ground things a little more in reality, a little more in the world of the island, and a little more in a plot that can solve all of the mysteries it creates.
After the decided lull in the middle of season three, I think we all suspected that the Bad Robot idea well might be, if not running dry, then certainly kicking up brackish water. Add that downturn in creativity to bloated expectations following a ridiculously long inter-season hiatus, and you're looking at a recipe for a disappointment casserole. That this episode wasn't great doesn't bother me, what does is that I have a sneaking suspicion that LOST might be over, or, at least, that I might be over LOST.
Here are the clues from which I draw my conclusion:
1) The change in format. Flash forwards? Great idea. I'm 100% behind them. We've spent so much time exploring the characters' myriad (often tedious) backstories, that I'm more than happy to get a change of perspective. But, you can't disagree that going to flash forwards fundementally changes the dynamic of the show. Regardless of how they frame the show, the narrative that we ostensibly care about is the one that's happening on the island. The way the show works is that we watch the island, we have no fucking idea what's going on, we see a flash back, and we understand a little better. It's a gradual enlightening process that's quite effective. What we have now is this sort of teasing process. We watch the island, we have no fucking idea what's going on, we see a flash forward that promises that what's going on is totally significant somehow, then we go back to island and still have no fucking idea what's going on. Which brings me to my next point:
2) The delicate balance of LOST. So, the main driving force behind LOST is confusion and the basic human want to overcome confusion. For the first two seasons, LOST was effective because it answered as many questions as it posed, so you were constantly feeling that relief of understanding but, at the same time, you were always tantalized. This new format obviously lends itself to asking more questions than it answers. Already, within the first episode, I find myself drooling all over myself, hungry for answers to about a thousand questions. How did they get off the island? Why did Hurley regret going with Locke? Who's that well dressed, bald gentleman? So many questions and more to come next week. And when will we get answers to these questions? Well, even in the future, most of the characters seem not to know what the hell is going on, so I'm guessing not any time soon.
3) The other delicate balance of LOST. I've always loved that the secrets of LOST seem so out of the ordinary. There's a mysterious island, but it seems to exist within some set of scientific rules. There are explanations for things which are, in some way, worldly and comprehensible. That fact is pretty much mandatory in a universe where I expect, at some point, I'll understand what's going on. So, when the show starts employing ghosts and people teleporting and houses appearing out of nowhere, I start to wonder if I'm really getting in to something I can get myself out of, or if I'm ultimately going to find that I've wandered into supernatural-land, and that the show is just going to throw up its hands and say "Yeah, the supernatural... who knows?"
The thing is that LOST isn't the best written or produced show on TV, so, to hold my attention, they have to be pretty meticulous in their plotting. They have to give me stuff that I like (read: compelling questions and satisfying answers) and keep the stuff I don't (read: almost everything else except for John Locke and Ben Linus... and Evangeline Lilly... but not Kate Austen). I've still got (not particularly high) hopes that next week's episode will pull us back from the edge and ground things a little more in reality, a little more in the world of the island, and a little more in a plot that can solve all of the mysteries it creates.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)