October 29, 2007
In 1987, Grace Walsh brought us a script that she had found through her work in the peace movement. It was a musical based on the concept that if young people were to address world leaders directly, they could cut through the politics of the cold war and stop the nuclear arms race. The fundamental argument was "I Want to Live," also the title of one of the major songs of the play. It wasn't a very good script, and the songs weren't much better, but, as is sometimes the case, especially with political theatre, the concept carried it.
We applied for, and to our amazement, received a grant for $10,000 to produce this play. We had the idea that if we could bring together kids from many nations, even iron curtain countries, we could make a big splash with this production. Burt Routman was president of The Playhouse at the time, and pretty much refused to accept any limitations, so we forged ahead.
The Soviet Union had not yet shown signs of collapsing, and getting kids from Soviet-bloc countries would be daunting, to say the least. I used my connections with the American Association of Community Theatre to work with the International Association of Amateur Theatre to seek participants. Finding people willing to come was not a problem. Getting them here was a different story. We worked with the U.S. State Department, and didn't know for certain we would have people until they arrived. We had to send travel money(cash) in some cases, by DHL Worldwide Express, with the knowledge that there was only about a 20% chance that it would reach the intended recipients.
The kids stayed with home hosts. They arrived two days before Thanksgiving, a holiday most had never heard of. We rehearsed for a couple of weeks with a local cast of about 110 kids and a few adults. Debbie Westphal choreographed, Paul Dieke did the music direction, and I directed. It was a madhouse. We crammed more people on the stage than ever before. Traffic patterns and visibility were our major concerns.
Opening night was a huge event. In attendance were many local luminaries, as well as Father Robert Drinan, peace activist and former U.S. congressman, and Lureen Gephardt, mother of senator and perennial candidate, Dick Gephardt. I lived only a few blocks from the Playhouse, and as I left my house to attend opening night, I noticed powerful searchlights in the early evening sky, searchlights procured by board member Jon Batesole. I knew we were doing something big. We never played to an empty seat, and due to Burt Routman's entrepreneurial drive, never an empty aisle.
The local response was amazing. Peace activism is usually positioned left of center, but this show defied political boundaries. Everyone got it. Kids don't care if you are republican or democrat. Their needs are non-political.
International cultural exchange creates incredibly tight bonds. The host families and guests became close almost instantly. On the day after closing, there was significant weeping and wailing at the airport, followed the next summer by many European trips, with host families visiting their guests. Some bonds remain particularly strong even now, 20 years later.
Tuesday
Monday
Peace Child, The Sequel
October 30, 2007
So much happened between our first production of Peace Child, in November, 1987 and our decision to revive it in the summer of 1989. The Soviet Union was on the verge of collapse. By November, 1989, the Berlin Wall would be gone, and communist domination of Russia and its satellites would be on the way out. An economy destroyed by currency crises, reduced oil prices and the failed war in Afghanistan, coupled with the pressure applied by the Reagan administration to keep an arms race going, made it tough for Russia to continue to exist without undergoing massive change. Gorbachev, who came to power in 1985, started with Perestroika, moved through Glasnost all the way to a nearly open, capitalistic society.
Even though travel restrictions were eased, and tensions seemed to be abating, the US and Soviet Union were still operating in the "Mutual Assured Destruction" mode, with nuclear weapons poised and ready to launch. This information, coupled with our unexpected success on the first Peace Child, motivated us to try it again.
We brought 15 kids from Moscow, along with 4 adults. Unlike two years before, there were no travel problems, whatsoever.
The group traveled with two adult leaders. Arsen Melitonyan was a young man in his 30's, a representative of Comsomol, the Soviet communist youth league-obviously an organization on its way out, and the closest thing to KGB that was now traveling with groups on tour to the west. Julia Klimova was his counterpart, a free-spirit, creative type who co-directed the production with me.
Arsen's job appeared to be to oversee the group, make sure that there were no defectors and assure that mutual respect was maintained on both sides. Julia's job seemed to be to drive me crazy. To say that she was strong-willed would be an understatement. She wanted things her way and when I tried to reach a compromise, the language barrier became insurmountable. In the end, I believe we both made contributions to the production concept that enhanced its effect. Paul Dieke masterfully provided the music direction and Debbie Westphal did the choreography and traffic direction, a feat of incredible organization and creativity.
We added value to the production in several ways. The rehearsals took place at Grand View College, and we opened up the student union/theatre building in the afternoons for what was called "International Peace Camp." Local young people worked side-by side with the kids from Russia on theatre classes, craft projects, and artwork centered on the theme of peace. Not content to perform only in Des Moines , we toured the production to three other venues across the state: Cherokee, Washington and Clinton. In each of these communities, the core group of 30 performers was joined by a chorus of up to 100 local kids. Our project became known as Peace Child: The Great Plains Tour. In each community, the kids bonded with their American counterparts and developed relationships that lasted far beyond the brief time they spent together.
As a grand finale, we performed the show to 1400 people at the Sylvan Theatre in Greenwood Park.
The board, volunteers and performers involved in this project created something that made a difference in terms of cross-cultural understanding and created indelible memories in hundreds of minds. Everyone felt good about his or her contribution to the change that was taking place, and we joked, for several years, that on cast member, Eric Hastings' resume, under achievements, he listed, "Ended Cold War."
My fond memories of the project include the Peace Kids singing our National Anthem, followed the Soviet National Anthem at an Iowa Cubs game. I was surprised and moved to see a stadium full of baseball fans, hats off and hands on hearts honoring the anthems of two nations, at least at this level, committed to ending their bitter and dangerous competition.
My strongest memory of the summer, however, is an event that occurred during our visit to Clinton, Iowa, and will be the subject of my next post.
So much happened between our first production of Peace Child, in November, 1987 and our decision to revive it in the summer of 1989. The Soviet Union was on the verge of collapse. By November, 1989, the Berlin Wall would be gone, and communist domination of Russia and its satellites would be on the way out. An economy destroyed by currency crises, reduced oil prices and the failed war in Afghanistan, coupled with the pressure applied by the Reagan administration to keep an arms race going, made it tough for Russia to continue to exist without undergoing massive change. Gorbachev, who came to power in 1985, started with Perestroika, moved through Glasnost all the way to a nearly open, capitalistic society.
Even though travel restrictions were eased, and tensions seemed to be abating, the US and Soviet Union were still operating in the "Mutual Assured Destruction" mode, with nuclear weapons poised and ready to launch. This information, coupled with our unexpected success on the first Peace Child, motivated us to try it again.
We brought 15 kids from Moscow, along with 4 adults. Unlike two years before, there were no travel problems, whatsoever.
The group traveled with two adult leaders. Arsen Melitonyan was a young man in his 30's, a representative of Comsomol, the Soviet communist youth league-obviously an organization on its way out, and the closest thing to KGB that was now traveling with groups on tour to the west. Julia Klimova was his counterpart, a free-spirit, creative type who co-directed the production with me.
Arsen's job appeared to be to oversee the group, make sure that there were no defectors and assure that mutual respect was maintained on both sides. Julia's job seemed to be to drive me crazy. To say that she was strong-willed would be an understatement. She wanted things her way and when I tried to reach a compromise, the language barrier became insurmountable. In the end, I believe we both made contributions to the production concept that enhanced its effect. Paul Dieke masterfully provided the music direction and Debbie Westphal did the choreography and traffic direction, a feat of incredible organization and creativity.
We added value to the production in several ways. The rehearsals took place at Grand View College, and we opened up the student union/theatre building in the afternoons for what was called "International Peace Camp." Local young people worked side-by side with the kids from Russia on theatre classes, craft projects, and artwork centered on the theme of peace. Not content to perform only in Des Moines , we toured the production to three other venues across the state: Cherokee, Washington and Clinton. In each of these communities, the core group of 30 performers was joined by a chorus of up to 100 local kids. Our project became known as Peace Child: The Great Plains Tour. In each community, the kids bonded with their American counterparts and developed relationships that lasted far beyond the brief time they spent together.
As a grand finale, we performed the show to 1400 people at the Sylvan Theatre in Greenwood Park.
The board, volunteers and performers involved in this project created something that made a difference in terms of cross-cultural understanding and created indelible memories in hundreds of minds. Everyone felt good about his or her contribution to the change that was taking place, and we joked, for several years, that on cast member, Eric Hastings' resume, under achievements, he listed, "Ended Cold War."
My fond memories of the project include the Peace Kids singing our National Anthem, followed the Soviet National Anthem at an Iowa Cubs game. I was surprised and moved to see a stadium full of baseball fans, hats off and hands on hearts honoring the anthems of two nations, at least at this level, committed to ending their bitter and dangerous competition.
My strongest memory of the summer, however, is an event that occurred during our visit to Clinton, Iowa, and will be the subject of my next post.
Sunday
Peace Child III
October 31, 2007
The third stop on the Peace Child: Great Plains Tour was Clinton, Iowa. Al King and the local arrangements committee did a great job pulling together a cast of young people to perform at the local high school with our core group of around 30. Kathy Johnson, from the Playhouse staff, arranged homestays, pairing staff and cast with just the right families. I never understood why Kathy stayed in houses with private guest suites and decks with hot tubs overlooking rolling Iowa hills, while I stayed in someone's basement, but I now, officially, let it go.
Debbie Westphal, who, as head of Betty Hill Dance Studio, has a wealth of experience making large groups of young people look good on stage, is an incredible detail person. Color-coded charts and lists rule her life, and make it possible for our hundred or so kids to look organized and present well.
I'm standing in the back of the high school auditorium watching our production of Peace Child. Debbie is next to me, agitated and trying to convince me to change something that is not working out the way she wants. I am only half-listening, because something strange is happening onstage. We are at the point in the play where the girls are dancing a dream-like sequence that represents their fantasy about the horror of nuclear war. There are 8 Russian girls and 8 American girls dancing in a circle. There is a fog effect, but it doesn't look right. I tune Debbie out completely and try to decide what is going on. The floor in the circle seems white. The girls are missing beats and acting strange. It doesn't look like all 16 of them are onstage. I excuse myself from Debbie and go out into the hallway to make my way backstage. Al King, sweet guy, stops me and says, "Well, John, you should be really proud..."
"Sorry, Al, can't talk."
When I get backstage, I can see that there is a white powder centerstage. I ask what is going on, and someone says, "The fog machine wasn't working, so the tech director used a fire extinguisher." As I am trying to process this, another cast member peels out of the circle and comes offstage coughing and hacking. The tech director has used a dry chemical fire extinguisher!
I follow the girl as she leaves the stage to an outside loading dock area where there are three other girls coughing uncontrollably and a saying alarming things like, " I can't breathe!"
The dance number is over, and we are approaching the end of the show. I grab the stage manager and say, "Forget the show. Stay with these kids to make sure it doesn't get worse." I run back through the hallway, bumping into Al King again, who says, " John, I think we should do more of this..."
"Shut up, Al, and call an ambulance!"
"What's going on?"
"There's a problem backstage. Girls are having trouble breathing. Call 911 and get some rescue people here."
I reach Debbie Westphal, who, by now, has figured something bad is happening. We quickly decide, that since there is only a short time left in the show, the chemical fog/powder has dissipated, and the remaining cast seems to be doing OK, that it would be more disruptive to stop the show than continue.
I rush backstage again, passing the men's room, where the distraught technical director has locked himself in. People are on the verge of panic.
The girls are still having breathing issues, and there are several people helping them, comforting them, giving them water.
I rush back to the auditorium, passing the men's room, where there is now a priest, kneeling and talking to the technical director locked in the bathroom through the grate at the bottom of the door, like a confessional, urging him to come out.
Al King is walking in circles.
The show is ending. The audience is on its feet in a standing ovation. Their reaction is almost loud enough to cover the sirens of the arriving ambulances.
On my way backstage again, I pass the men's room, where maintenance people are removing the hinges to get to the TD.
The girls are being loaded into ambulances. The show has ended, and the audience filing out is seeing some strange and disturbing sights. I don't have time to explain.
At the hospital, a pulmonary specialist has been called in, and he is triaging the injured. Among all the disturbing things I hear that evening, his statement to me wins the prize.
"At the MGM Grand fire in Las Vegas, they kept more people from dying by giving everyone who arrived at emergency a massive dose of steroids. That's my intention. Do you have a problem with that?"
"Let me call their parents."
"We don't have time. I'm going ahead."
After an hour or so, it becomes clear that there is no imminent danger of this turning into a life-or-death crisis. One girl who has chronic asthma is not doing as well as the others, and is held overnight for observation.
Speaking of observation, it occurs to us that there were 16 girls dancing in that group, 8 Russians and 8 Americans. All of the Americans are in distress and have to go to the hospital. None of the Russians have a problem.
I call Burt Routman, a physician and board member at The Playhouse. He talks to the pulmonologist. He and I split the list and call parents.
"Hi, this is John Viars from the Playhouse. First, your daughter is OK. We had a problem with today's show. One of the local technicians mistakenly released a dry chemical fire extinguisher...she's at the hospital and has been given.." You know the rest.
Tough call to make, but not as tough as it could have been.
For this event, our measure of success is, "Nobody died, and we weren't sued."
We certainly forgave the technical director for an honest mistake. He punished himself enough, and no one was actually injured.
The people in Clinton were wonderful and we were happy to have the chance to share our show with them, and appreciated their helpfulness and concern when we had a problem.
The third stop on the Peace Child: Great Plains Tour was Clinton, Iowa. Al King and the local arrangements committee did a great job pulling together a cast of young people to perform at the local high school with our core group of around 30. Kathy Johnson, from the Playhouse staff, arranged homestays, pairing staff and cast with just the right families. I never understood why Kathy stayed in houses with private guest suites and decks with hot tubs overlooking rolling Iowa hills, while I stayed in someone's basement, but I now, officially, let it go.
Debbie Westphal, who, as head of Betty Hill Dance Studio, has a wealth of experience making large groups of young people look good on stage, is an incredible detail person. Color-coded charts and lists rule her life, and make it possible for our hundred or so kids to look organized and present well.
I'm standing in the back of the high school auditorium watching our production of Peace Child. Debbie is next to me, agitated and trying to convince me to change something that is not working out the way she wants. I am only half-listening, because something strange is happening onstage. We are at the point in the play where the girls are dancing a dream-like sequence that represents their fantasy about the horror of nuclear war. There are 8 Russian girls and 8 American girls dancing in a circle. There is a fog effect, but it doesn't look right. I tune Debbie out completely and try to decide what is going on. The floor in the circle seems white. The girls are missing beats and acting strange. It doesn't look like all 16 of them are onstage. I excuse myself from Debbie and go out into the hallway to make my way backstage. Al King, sweet guy, stops me and says, "Well, John, you should be really proud..."
"Sorry, Al, can't talk."
When I get backstage, I can see that there is a white powder centerstage. I ask what is going on, and someone says, "The fog machine wasn't working, so the tech director used a fire extinguisher." As I am trying to process this, another cast member peels out of the circle and comes offstage coughing and hacking. The tech director has used a dry chemical fire extinguisher!
I follow the girl as she leaves the stage to an outside loading dock area where there are three other girls coughing uncontrollably and a saying alarming things like, " I can't breathe!"
The dance number is over, and we are approaching the end of the show. I grab the stage manager and say, "Forget the show. Stay with these kids to make sure it doesn't get worse." I run back through the hallway, bumping into Al King again, who says, " John, I think we should do more of this..."
"Shut up, Al, and call an ambulance!"
"What's going on?"
"There's a problem backstage. Girls are having trouble breathing. Call 911 and get some rescue people here."
I reach Debbie Westphal, who, by now, has figured something bad is happening. We quickly decide, that since there is only a short time left in the show, the chemical fog/powder has dissipated, and the remaining cast seems to be doing OK, that it would be more disruptive to stop the show than continue.
I rush backstage again, passing the men's room, where the distraught technical director has locked himself in. People are on the verge of panic.
The girls are still having breathing issues, and there are several people helping them, comforting them, giving them water.
I rush back to the auditorium, passing the men's room, where there is now a priest, kneeling and talking to the technical director locked in the bathroom through the grate at the bottom of the door, like a confessional, urging him to come out.
Al King is walking in circles.
The show is ending. The audience is on its feet in a standing ovation. Their reaction is almost loud enough to cover the sirens of the arriving ambulances.
On my way backstage again, I pass the men's room, where maintenance people are removing the hinges to get to the TD.
The girls are being loaded into ambulances. The show has ended, and the audience filing out is seeing some strange and disturbing sights. I don't have time to explain.
At the hospital, a pulmonary specialist has been called in, and he is triaging the injured. Among all the disturbing things I hear that evening, his statement to me wins the prize.
"At the MGM Grand fire in Las Vegas, they kept more people from dying by giving everyone who arrived at emergency a massive dose of steroids. That's my intention. Do you have a problem with that?"
"Let me call their parents."
"We don't have time. I'm going ahead."
After an hour or so, it becomes clear that there is no imminent danger of this turning into a life-or-death crisis. One girl who has chronic asthma is not doing as well as the others, and is held overnight for observation.
Speaking of observation, it occurs to us that there were 16 girls dancing in that group, 8 Russians and 8 Americans. All of the Americans are in distress and have to go to the hospital. None of the Russians have a problem.
I call Burt Routman, a physician and board member at The Playhouse. He talks to the pulmonologist. He and I split the list and call parents.
"Hi, this is John Viars from the Playhouse. First, your daughter is OK. We had a problem with today's show. One of the local technicians mistakenly released a dry chemical fire extinguisher...she's at the hospital and has been given.." You know the rest.
Tough call to make, but not as tough as it could have been.
For this event, our measure of success is, "Nobody died, and we weren't sued."
We certainly forgave the technical director for an honest mistake. He punished himself enough, and no one was actually injured.
The people in Clinton were wonderful and we were happy to have the chance to share our show with them, and appreciated their helpfulness and concern when we had a problem.
Saturday
Crazy Things People Say
In Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Phyllis Mumford is playing the role of Mae, who along with her husband, Gooper, is distrustful of Maggie, the Cat. They think she is pretending to be pregnant so that Big Daddy will give his inheritance to Brick, her drunken husband.
With all the smarmy arrogance she can muster, Phyllis says, "Here's your goopcase, briefer."
In Rosa Parks, Ruthanne Gaines acts as the character Rosa and a narrator, filling us in on the history of the civil rights movement.
In her most informative tone, Ruthanne says, "Throughout the movement, there were many unhung zeros."
We're doing Romeo and Juliet. The rehearsals include lots of swordfighting, dancing and blocking. Midway through one of the more difficult rehearsals, one of the actors approaches me and asks, "If we're already dead, and we don't dance, may we leave?"
I want that to be a chapter title in my first book.
In the same production, I am having trouble appreciating the chapeau that the costume designer has given to one of the actors, and let the designer know my concerns.
Her response: "If he had a character, the hat would work." Thats the title for chapter two.
We're doing Terra Nova, a drama about the Scott expedition to the South Pole, where Commander Scott and his crew are the first to reach the Pole, but freeze to death on the return. The playwright has a flowery way of writing stage directions. At one point in the script he says a character "...thrashes about wildly, blood gushes from his mouth, and he dies." Greg Leavengood, playing the doomed character, has been convinced that one way of creating this effect is to put stage blood in a condom, tie it off into a little ball, and at the appropriate time bite down on it, and the blood, under pressure, should spurt appropriately. Jim Perkey, another of the doomed crew, is to hold onto Greg and try to restrain him. At the appropriate moment, Greg bites on the condom, it flies from his mouth and bounces on the stage. Jim looks at the bouncing ball, grabs Greg even tighter and says, "My God! A blood clot!"
Perhaps chapter three?
With all the smarmy arrogance she can muster, Phyllis says, "Here's your goopcase, briefer."
In Rosa Parks, Ruthanne Gaines acts as the character Rosa and a narrator, filling us in on the history of the civil rights movement.
In her most informative tone, Ruthanne says, "Throughout the movement, there were many unhung zeros."
We're doing Romeo and Juliet. The rehearsals include lots of swordfighting, dancing and blocking. Midway through one of the more difficult rehearsals, one of the actors approaches me and asks, "If we're already dead, and we don't dance, may we leave?"
I want that to be a chapter title in my first book.
In the same production, I am having trouble appreciating the chapeau that the costume designer has given to one of the actors, and let the designer know my concerns.
Her response: "If he had a character, the hat would work." Thats the title for chapter two.
We're doing Terra Nova, a drama about the Scott expedition to the South Pole, where Commander Scott and his crew are the first to reach the Pole, but freeze to death on the return. The playwright has a flowery way of writing stage directions. At one point in the script he says a character "...thrashes about wildly, blood gushes from his mouth, and he dies." Greg Leavengood, playing the doomed character, has been convinced that one way of creating this effect is to put stage blood in a condom, tie it off into a little ball, and at the appropriate time bite down on it, and the blood, under pressure, should spurt appropriately. Jim Perkey, another of the doomed crew, is to hold onto Greg and try to restrain him. At the appropriate moment, Greg bites on the condom, it flies from his mouth and bounces on the stage. Jim looks at the bouncing ball, grabs Greg even tighter and says, "My God! A blood clot!"
Perhaps chapter three?
Thursday
Fall New York Theatre Tour I
Just got back from our fall Best of Broadway Theatre trip, and there's a lot to talk about.
The first play I saw was a Wednesday Evening performance of Pygmalion, starring Claire Danes, Jefferson Mays and Boyd Gaines. Jefferson Mays and Boyd Gaines performed just recently in Journey's End, the Tony-Award winning drama directed by David Grindley, who also directed this show.
This was a tight show, so the costumes, sets and lighting were all top-notch. The acting was wonderful, almost throughout. Jefferson Mays, whose tour-de-force performance in the one man show, I Am My Own Wife, has created a Henry Higgins that is unique and so well rendered that we are tempted to forget Rex Harrison. This Higgins seems more vulnerable, more human and more susceptible to working himself into a tizzy. He is frustratingly real and accessible.
Boyd Gaines, as his cohort, Pickering, was suitably British, if not a little too subtle. He is able to say so much with a proper smile or nod. His performance is highly sophisticated and sublime. Gaines, who was nominated for a 2007 Tony for his work in Journey's End, has certainly come a long way from 1982's teen sex flick, "Porky's."
Claire Danes, as Eliza Doolittle, is lovely to look at and quite good, but her performance doesn't seem to come as easy as the others. She strains to make her crying believable, and could be a little bit more sympathetic, for my money.
The long view of the show is that, at age 91(the show, not me), it's tough to sit through. Act II is very talky(it's Shaw), and the 1956 musical, My Fair Lady, made the singing seem so inevitable, that it is missed at several points through the evening. Bravo to Roundabout Theatre Company for doing revivals like this, I'm afraid that if the show sells it will be because it has a movie star in it, not because Broadway loves Shaw.
More to follow. I saw six shows and had a completely different reaction to all of them.
The first play I saw was a Wednesday Evening performance of Pygmalion, starring Claire Danes, Jefferson Mays and Boyd Gaines. Jefferson Mays and Boyd Gaines performed just recently in Journey's End, the Tony-Award winning drama directed by David Grindley, who also directed this show.
This was a tight show, so the costumes, sets and lighting were all top-notch. The acting was wonderful, almost throughout. Jefferson Mays, whose tour-de-force performance in the one man show, I Am My Own Wife, has created a Henry Higgins that is unique and so well rendered that we are tempted to forget Rex Harrison. This Higgins seems more vulnerable, more human and more susceptible to working himself into a tizzy. He is frustratingly real and accessible.
Boyd Gaines, as his cohort, Pickering, was suitably British, if not a little too subtle. He is able to say so much with a proper smile or nod. His performance is highly sophisticated and sublime. Gaines, who was nominated for a 2007 Tony for his work in Journey's End, has certainly come a long way from 1982's teen sex flick, "Porky's."
Claire Danes, as Eliza Doolittle, is lovely to look at and quite good, but her performance doesn't seem to come as easy as the others. She strains to make her crying believable, and could be a little bit more sympathetic, for my money.
The long view of the show is that, at age 91(the show, not me), it's tough to sit through. Act II is very talky(it's Shaw), and the 1956 musical, My Fair Lady, made the singing seem so inevitable, that it is missed at several points through the evening. Bravo to Roundabout Theatre Company for doing revivals like this, I'm afraid that if the show sells it will be because it has a movie star in it, not because Broadway loves Shaw.
More to follow. I saw six shows and had a completely different reaction to all of them.
Wednesday
Fall New York Theatre Tour II
We were lucky enough to get tickets for the first New York performance of Young Frankenstein - The Musical, and we saw a terrific production.
First, the tech was impeccable. There were tremendous amounts of fog, lightning, sparks and my favorite, a lighting effect that seemed to make the inside of the castle "tremble." To have technical production so tight at the first public performance is quite a feat.
Roger Bart was hilarious as Frankenstein, and seemed more grounded than Nathan Lane was doing a similar role in "The Producers." He actually seemed aware that there was a play that needed to move forward.
Megan Mullally as Elizabeth, Frankenstein's fiance, was so full of musical theatre excitement, that I felt cheated not seeing her onstage the whole time. She actually seemed under-used, appearing, essentially, at the beginning and end only.
Sutton Foster was miscast, as far as I can tell. She has been a shining light in productions like Thoroughly Modern Millie, The Drowsy Chaperone, and Little Women, but in those plays her characters were cute, innocent, tomboy types. In Young Frankenstein, she's expected to be the sexpot seducer, initiating lots of double-entendre jokes. Maybe people who haven't seen her in the other productions won't have the same reaction, because she is a wonderful actress and singer - that may be all that's needed.
Christopher Fitzgerald as Igor, Andrea Martin as Frau Blucher, Shuler Hensley as the Monster are all perfection. The highlight of the evening is the extended version of "Puttin' on the Ritz." God, it's funny.
I hope everyone gets a chance to see Young Frankenstein. We're trying to put our spring trip together for late April/early May, and tickets are almost impossible to get, even that far in advance.
Next: Impressions of other Broadway shows, including Spring Awakening, Mauritius, and Xanadu.
First, the tech was impeccable. There were tremendous amounts of fog, lightning, sparks and my favorite, a lighting effect that seemed to make the inside of the castle "tremble." To have technical production so tight at the first public performance is quite a feat.
Roger Bart was hilarious as Frankenstein, and seemed more grounded than Nathan Lane was doing a similar role in "The Producers." He actually seemed aware that there was a play that needed to move forward.
Megan Mullally as Elizabeth, Frankenstein's fiance, was so full of musical theatre excitement, that I felt cheated not seeing her onstage the whole time. She actually seemed under-used, appearing, essentially, at the beginning and end only.
Sutton Foster was miscast, as far as I can tell. She has been a shining light in productions like Thoroughly Modern Millie, The Drowsy Chaperone, and Little Women, but in those plays her characters were cute, innocent, tomboy types. In Young Frankenstein, she's expected to be the sexpot seducer, initiating lots of double-entendre jokes. Maybe people who haven't seen her in the other productions won't have the same reaction, because she is a wonderful actress and singer - that may be all that's needed.
Christopher Fitzgerald as Igor, Andrea Martin as Frau Blucher, Shuler Hensley as the Monster are all perfection. The highlight of the evening is the extended version of "Puttin' on the Ritz." God, it's funny.
I hope everyone gets a chance to see Young Frankenstein. We're trying to put our spring trip together for late April/early May, and tickets are almost impossible to get, even that far in advance.
Next: Impressions of other Broadway shows, including Spring Awakening, Mauritius, and Xanadu.
Tuesday
Fall New York Theatre Tour III
I went back to see Spring Awakening, the 2007 Tony Award winner for best musical, partly because we had an extra ticket, and partly to see if I still thought it was as exciting as the first time.
Based on a controversial 19th-Century German drama, it's a compelling show about lack of communication and understanding between adults and young people. It's full of the angst of sexual awakening and the consequence of repressive authority. For me, it is like "Rent," only with more legitimacy. The protagonists in Rent are Bohemian druggies in New York who don't have jobs and wonder, musically, "How are we going to pay the rent?" In Spring Awakening, the characters are young people dealing with changes in themselves that they don't understand, while being harassed by cruel authority figures who withhold information.
This foundation, built upon by the decidedly un-Broadway-like music of Duncan Sheik, and the dynamic choreography of Bill T. Jones makes "Spring Awakening" one of the best shows you'll see in this season or any other.
Don't expect to see it at The Playhouse. The language is pretty much an f-word festival, with a focus on simulated masturbation and a not quite so simulated sexual encounter.
If you get a chance to see it in New York, on tour, or at one of the local alternative theatres, don't pass it up. For a preview, look on the internet for the clip of the song, "The Bitch of Living." http://youtube.com/watch?v=7JCoA92y24A
Musical theatre has come a long way from "Shall We Dance."
Based on a controversial 19th-Century German drama, it's a compelling show about lack of communication and understanding between adults and young people. It's full of the angst of sexual awakening and the consequence of repressive authority. For me, it is like "Rent," only with more legitimacy. The protagonists in Rent are Bohemian druggies in New York who don't have jobs and wonder, musically, "How are we going to pay the rent?" In Spring Awakening, the characters are young people dealing with changes in themselves that they don't understand, while being harassed by cruel authority figures who withhold information.
This foundation, built upon by the decidedly un-Broadway-like music of Duncan Sheik, and the dynamic choreography of Bill T. Jones makes "Spring Awakening" one of the best shows you'll see in this season or any other.
Don't expect to see it at The Playhouse. The language is pretty much an f-word festival, with a focus on simulated masturbation and a not quite so simulated sexual encounter.
If you get a chance to see it in New York, on tour, or at one of the local alternative theatres, don't pass it up. For a preview, look on the internet for the clip of the song, "The Bitch of Living." http://youtube.com/watch?v=7JCoA92y24A
Musical theatre has come a long way from "Shall We Dance."
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