FOLLIES

A few people have asked me recently what I've seen lately that I really loved, and I was sort of sad to realize that I was having a really hard time answering. born bad, Unnatural Acts, The Shaggs musical, By the Way Meet Vera Stark...most of the really good things I've seen over the past months have closed, and I can only recommend Sleep No More and The Book of Mormon so many times. Happily, I can now add another big, dark, gleaming musical to the list. It took a second viewing to feel like I really got it, but I now have no qualms about saying that the new production of Follies, recently moved from DC's Kennedy Center to Broadway's Marquis theater, is a magnificent thing.

What helped me make my decision? First, the space itself. I may not be a huge fan of the Marquis, but compared to the cavernous Kennedy Center, it feels like the show has been brought down to life sized and makes much more sense playing in an actual Broadway theater. Set in a theater about to be razed in the 1970s (ironic to now be playing the Marquis--look it up), the walls and ceilings are hung with drop cloths, a decaying proscenium arch is over the stage, and the stage floor itself looks warped and worn. As a tattered curtain raises during the overture, the "ghosts" of Follies performers past are revealed in glittering black and white costumes, draped across the stage, harkening back to a time gone by.

The interplay between the ghosts of the characters pasts and the older, regretful people they become is the heart of the show. At its core, two couples in differently destructive marriages meet again at a reunion and over the course of the evening are forced to confront the choices they've made as they look back at a time when anything was possible. When I first saw it, I thought the humongous cast of other characters that trotted out old numbers were scattered throughout for context and color, but a second viewing revealed how carefully constructed the show really is--the entire reunion, the entire concept of a reunion, is about looking back and contrasting then with now, who we were with who we've become. It's not a show about the fear of aging; it's about the realization of the facts of aging and the resultant (inevitable?) regrets. The joy with which some characters look back, at peace with who they've become, not only presents an alternative to the core four, it highlights just how terribly sad their regrets are. This service is highlighted when, late in the show, each of the main four gets a big Follies-style number. Until this point, the rest of the cast has handled the big face-forward-and-sing moments, with our leads having more conversational, in the moment songs. So allowing them to turn to the audience and perform to us, almost pleading with us, has a heightened resonance. Because even in these old-style songs, they can never truly put who they are behind them and just be.

The cast is stupidly fantastic. Jayne Houdyshell has the unenviable task of replacing Linda Lavin as Hattie whose "Broadway Baby" I called one of the highlights of the year. Lavin played Hattie as a sexy temptress with a sense of humor. Houdyshell cranks the humor up a few notches and replaces flirtation with a go-for-broke gusto that is fucking brilliant. This is a woman who will rip the applause from your hands, and in one song and a handful of lines manages a fully realized character that would completely steal the show if she weren't in such fierce company.

Mary Beth Peil has the less troubling task of replacing Regine as Solange LaFitte. Regine bumbled through the role so bizarrely that I hardly noticed her. Peil makes her an aging sexpot with a delicious sense of entitlement and a pretty fantastic sense of humor. Her French accent may not be terribly convincing, but it kind of fits...nothing about Solange seems terribly real.

I already spoke last time about my enormous appreciation of Terri White and the magic she does with "Who's That Woman?" and of Rosalind Elias's soaring voice in "One More Kiss." But I complained about Elaine Paige's oddball take on "I'm Still Here." Lemme just take that back. She's dropped the sex kitten flirtation, opened a vein of anger, and now rips into the song (the show's most famous?) without looking back. Her delivery is unlike any other version I've heard, but what was once uncomfortably odd is now fascinatingly unexpected. It may not end an act, but I'd be shocked if she doesn't start getting standing ovations for this--at least on opening and closing nights, but probably more often as well.

The one question mark I'm left with (theater gods forgive me) is that goddess of the stage, Bernadette Peters. Her Sally is so weepy and maybe just a little too actually crazy. It's a committed performance, and her vocals are (duh) breathtaking, but there are lines in the book that just don't seem to jibe with who we're seeing. This is a woman who calls her sons up just to fight with them when she's lonely. We're told she argues with everyone she knows. When other characters talk about her, she sounds a little bipolar, but the woman we see seems merely depressed. Horribly, terribly depressed, yes, but she seems not to have the fight in her that we're told to expect. It seems like there's room for a little more variation, at least early in the play--places that we can see her steely determination so that when she breaks (and oh, does she break), we see more of what was at stake for her in this reunion. A little more determined than deluded, perhaps. Of course, opening night isn't for another month, so it's quite possible that's something she'll further explore. And I don't want to sound like I didn't enjoy her performance. She's actually great. It's just that everyone else on stage is even better than great. One more caveat: she does have the biggest and toughest role to play. With time, she'll likely nail it out of the park.

And that's a testament to how tight this production is. It feels more harmonious than when I saw it in DC. The choreography has been sharpened (and in one case adjusted to better show off Jan Maxwell--still devastating as Phyllis), the costumes adjusted to better fit some of the characters' personalities and backgrounds, and the scale of the show brought to slightly more human size. I'm seeing it again on opening night (a few tickets are on sale on Ticketmaster!). This one's gonna suck up a bunch of my time and money, and you know what? I can't fucking wait.

Revisiting Carrie

I'm not going to say that I'm the sort of person who read the book about Broadway flops, Not Since Carrie, and wished I could go back in time to take in the infamously dreadful musical version of Stephen King's Carrie. Or has watched every YouTube clip of the show that seems to be available and became moderately obsessed with the song "Eve Was Weak." Or spent the past three years religiously following updates about the attempt to revive the show and immediately bought tickets to a discussion of the show with the original creators as soon as they went on sale. But there I was on Monday night at the Lortel on Christopher watching them discuss the show, their decision to open anew, and the revisions that went into making it new.

From what I can gather, Carrie was the Spider-Man of its time only without the rewrites and apparent success (seriously--how is that show selling out?). It was the most expensive show ever to hit Broadway, arriving on Broadway after a stint in the UK under the auspices of the Royal Shakespeare Company--no, I don't understand it either. The story was convoluted, the staging bizarre, and the word of mouth deafening. Hell, maybe if it opened today, the crazy internet buzz could have kept it going.

The creators of the show took the stage of the Lortel appearing rather defensive. They laid the blame for the initial debacle squarely at the feet of original director Terry Hands. And yes, I've seen some photos and video so can attest to the fact that the direction was a hot mess. That said, if they needed to cut ten songs and add fourteen while also rewriting the book...maybe the show wasn't in exceptional shape to start with. There was a q & a, and I desperately wanted to ask whether they were undertaking the show again to see the show as they initially envisioned it or whether this was a late-game attempt at vindication. And whether they were scared of the potential critical response. But I thought that would make me a douchebag, so I kept my hand down. Regardless, they pretty much dodged even the softball questions they got (did the success of Glee inspire you to bring back this teen musical?), so it probably wouldn't have mattered.

Five songs from the show were performed--three in pretty much their original shape, one each from Carrie and her mother, and one duet between them. Molly Ranson is playing Carrie, and I don't want to judge a performance based on a blip of stage time before rehearsals even begin, but she seemed a bit to sweet and...normal. This is a show about a girl whose mother is a crazy zealot, is ostracized by everyone, and is telekinetic. She's got to be a little odd for that to work. It wasn't on stage on Monday, but she has plenty of time to work on it. More concerning was her voice which sounded like she was straining for the notes and to get enough power behind them. It made me curious how she'll hold up to a whole show, let alone eight shows a week. As her mother, Margaret, Marin Mazzie also didn't seem to have a full performance locked in, but she sang with breathtaking beauty and enough hard edges and creepy confidence that I will be very, very excited to see what she has in store once they really go to work.

The new song, for the good girl who feels bad for Carrie and the boyfriend she convinces to take her to the prom, was a treacly teen love duet called "You Shine." It was cushioned by some book work that felt really inauthentic and made me seriously question the decision to update the show from the late 70s to "now." I understand that they consider the themes of the piece timeless, but I'm less confident they have an ear for a current teen voice. Lastly (though the first song performed), the number "In" felt similarly plagued by awkward phrasing and seemed a bit discordant, though sound issues may have been to blame.

Will I go see Carrie when it opens in January? Yeah, of course I will. But "Revisiting Carrie" didn't exactly send me out feeling confident that it would be a brilliant show rescued from the ashes OR that it would be a hot mess worth seeing for camp value alone. If anything, the evening made me feel a little less excited about the show's resurfacing. There are months to go before this hits the rehearsal studio, let alone the stage. The only way to know how it's going to play is to wait and go. See you this winter, Carrie White.

I know what you're thinking right now: "I wonder how they staged the prom slaughter with all the telekinesis and stuff in the 80s. Hint: lasers, smoke, and...well, no, that was really it.

Way Back Wednesday: The Who's Tommy

Well, hell. I actually caught up on shows I've seen, so why not try something new? Let's take it back to my first ever Broadway show. Growing up in Westchester, I was surrounded by kids who had seen all the biggest hits. Everyone saw Cats at some point, there were hardcore Les Miz devotees, and there were even the folks who had been on Broadway themselves. My family hated the city (they've long since fled the tristate area), didn't seem particularly interested in the arts, and didn't exactly have an over-abundance of cash. So at 13, I felt like I was the only kid in school who hadn't seen a Broadway show. Felt like--I'm sure it wasn't actually the case. I don't know that I was all that interested in the theater for its own sake, but I felt kind of left out. So when there was a chance to catch a show on a school trip super cheap, I convinced my mom to send me. And that's how I ended up at the St. James Theater for The Who's Tommy.

Part of me wants a revival of Tommy to see how I'd feel about it now. The other part of me never wants there to be one because I don't want to change my memory of it. I loooooved it. I don't have any terribly complex thoughts about it--I was 13. But I remember being completely overwhelmed by the notion of a deaf and blind person. The gunshots sent me leaping out of my chair each time. The blaring music was transporting. And when the Acid Queen showed up? I was in Confused Gay Teen heaven. Cheryl Freeman was glorious. In short, I was transported. Being young and smug, I felt that since it was a rock opera, it was somehow more "authentic" than other shows and thought it was pretty great to see something so "edgy" my first time out. Of course, while by my current standards, it's not exactly revolutionary, it was right for the time--pushing me to think beyond myself and presenting ideas that for then were certainly beyond me. I was a pretty sheltered kid--sure, I was reading a lot of Jackie Collins and Stephen King, but I was also at mass every Sunday and my idea of rebellion was turning in homework late.

Looking back now, a few things stand out: I was lucky to see such an incredible cast. It had Alice Ripley, Michael Cerveris, Christian Hoff, Norm Lewis, and Sherie Rene Scott. Also, it kind of didn't make any sense. The blind and deaf kid becomes a pinball wizard and is thus catapulted to superstardom? Then he's cured by some weird machine and everyone goes away? Because that's less impressive somehow?

Regardless, it was a show that gave me glitz and spectacle but also did legitimately broaden my worldview a bit. Also, a musical about the ultimate outsider is pretty much perfect for a teenager.

My snobbery towards "edgy" material lasted all the way until my second show when I seriously flipped my shit for the Gershwin tuner Crazy for You (which I definitely want revived). It was a lovely one-two punch. A show that riveted and confused and challenged me (even if looking back it might be kinda dumb) and a big old-fashioned musical comedy to show that sometimes fun in fun and there's nothing wrong with that. In a lot of ways, I think I still approach live theater looking for those two things in equal measure. When I consider what my favorite shows of the year so far have been (and oh yes, in a few months there will absolutely be a retrospective on the year), I come back to the joyful and exuberant The Book of Mormon and the emotionally devastating born bad. I absolutely want to be challenged by great art. And sometimes I just want to settle back and cheer a tap routine. Quality is quality, whatever its intent.

The HoMo'Nique Show

Here's something that wasn't really a show, but I'll talk about anyway. I was going to pair this with something else, but then I just kept on writing. And writing. So: a live drag talk show. Go!

I love me some RuPaul's Drag Race. If anyone watched the recent season, you'll remember Stacy Layne Matthews, the plus-plus-sized queen from Back Swamp, North Carolina whose strongest moments on the show were downing some fried chicken in a fake exercise video and doing an impression of Mo'Nique as Precious's mom. In retrospect, I'm not toooootally sure why I was so excited to see her. But I was! So when I found out she was doing a live talk show as Mo'Nique (make that HoMo'Nique), I snatched up tickets (apologies for a terrible pun).

Here's the deal. Stacy does a mean Mary, mother of Precious. And while that character was played by Mo'Nique, she was not, in fact, Mo'Nique. Stacy as the real woman? Scattershot and a little on the dull side. And Lorrrrrrd almighty, she cannot do an interview. Can. Not. If there was not a question written on the piece of paper in front of her, she was not asking it. If a guest started to go someplace fun and interesting, she clumsily put her foot down, grinding the proceedings to a halt. She was by far her best when "live via satellite," she did an interview with herself. Yes, she clung to that script for dear life, but it was cute nonetheless, even if I can't for the life of me understand why "real" Stacy was dressed as Precious's mother while "Mo'Nique" was just Mo'Nique.

As far as the other guests, comedian Shawn Hollenbach as quite funny, but I know him so feel like it would be weird to try to discuss his act. Jenn Harris of Silence! The Musical, was a total hoot and actually got Stacy to do an impromptu Hannibal Lecter impression. Well done, Ms. Harris, not only being funny but bringing the other folks on stage up a notch--she's a fucking pro. The one person I was unfamiliar with was Molly "Equality" Dykeman--a character played by...someone--I have no idea. Molly is a lesbian poet/crossing guard who writes about what means the most to her: vagina. She was, I kid you not, genius. I got home and immediately bought tickets to see her show at the Fringe, The Fucking World According to Molly. Will the act hold up over 60 or more minutes? Who knows? But if I laugh a few times as hard as I did when I saw her here, I'll consider it $18 well spent.

Last up was Colton Ford. Or, as he was referred to every time he was mentioned, "Vocalist, Colton Ford." Not "Porn star, Colton Ford." Because he gave that up ten years ago, and it never goes away, and he wishes he had never done it, and he just wants to be taken seriously for his voice, goddamn it! Here's the thing...while I'm sure it's hard to be taken seriously as an entertainer after you've done porn, I'm not really (read: at all) convinced that in Mr. Ford's case, he didn't actually benefit more from the exposure (more bad puns!) than it acted to his detriment. He's a nice enough singer, but he's also in his upper-40s. That means that by the time he was trying to break into music, he was already at an age when most people who hadn't made it would stop imagining they were going to be pop stars. And if you're going to try to shed your porn image, then why not drop your stage name? And for God's sake, no one's going to forget you were a gay porn star if you still wear pants that, um, revealing. Regardless, he seemed very nice and did a solid take on Robyn's "With Every Heartbeat."

Now let's get to the closer. Stacy tells us she's been taking voice lessons and proceeds to sing...I can't believe I'm about to type this..."And I Am Telling You." Okay. "And I Am Telling You" is not the greatest song ever written. It is not sacred. People can cover it. But. This is a song that has been performed by THE biggest voices around. It isn't a song meant to be sung, it's meant to be lived. It demands vocal gymnastics, and if a performer's heart isn't left on the floor by the end of it, it won't compare to previous versions. Say what you will about Jennifer Hudson's Oscar (and believe me, I have A LOT to say), she killed that song. And Jennifer Holliday's version is available on YouTube. She killed it, brought it back from the dead, and slaughtered it anew. This is not a sacred song, but it is also not a song to be sung when you're working your way through singing lessons. Because at the start, someone may think, "Huh. She was a surprisingly strong voice." But by the end, they're just going to be comparing you to Jennifer Holliday. And that is a losing battle.

Stacy Layne Matthews: sweet but misguided. Now let's get some Pandora Boxx up in this bitch.

Olive and the Bitter Herbs

I'd never seen a Charles Busch show until this weekend, which I do happen to see as a personal failing. I had, though, seen his movies Die, Mommie, Die! (which I enjoyed) and Psycho Beach Party (which I looooooved). And I'd read the scripts of Tales of the Allergist's Wife and Vampire Lesbians of Sodom. There's really no excuse for my not having seen The Divine Sister, especially since it ran for ages.

ANYway, Busch has a new show, Olive and the Bitter Herbs, which I did see. Even so, I can't actually claim the initiative for having gone out to get a ticket on my own (thanks, Lee!). Regardless, after years of familiarity with the man, the myth, the lady, I finally encountered one of his productions. And liked it! Yes, there will be quibbles, but I enjoyed myself quite a bit nonetheless.

Played by Marcia Jean Kurtz, Olive is a brittle older actress best known for her work in the "Gimme the sausage" ad campaign. As the play starts, she's had two strokes ("episodes") and become mostly homebound, spending her time terrorizing the neighbors, the super, and the co-op director with her ridiculous complaints. Wendy, a younger woman played by the delightful Julie Halston, has spent eight months tending to her and trying to help her get back into her life. This involves trying to negotiate peace with the gay couple next door (dapper editor Robert and acerbic illustrator Trey). Meanwhile, the co-op board director's father, Sylvan arrives also hoping to calm the bitter bitch down. The sixth character, unseen and unheard, is the ghost who appears in Olive's mirror. Who he is and what he means to the various characters forms the crux of the play.

Kurtz does a good job of being hateable enough to alienate the other characters while maintaining just a shred enough dignity for the audience to still give a hoot. She definitely felt like she was still getting some lines and timing down, but it was the first week of previews, so I can't complain. Richard Masur as the thrice-widowed Sylvan shined brightest for me. Admittedly, he had the warmest character to play, but he was utterly delightful and gave a performance that felt incredibly comfortable and well-worn. Sylvan is as charming as he is easily charmed, and his track record of dating difficult women (do you see where this is going?) is utterly believable. More than anyone else, he sees through Olive (unlike the bitter herbs), and is the real emotional core of the play.

So what are the problems? In spite of the presence of a ghost, the play largely feels quite realistic until midway through the second act where coincidence piles on coincidence. It's intentional, and it's funny, but it also feels straight out of an absurdist play which the rest of this is decidedly not. And ultimately, I felt like the entire ghost subplot could have been excised and left a more straightforward play (that was still quite funny) about one woman railing against the world. But that could be unfair--I might just be trying to edit it into a different show in my head. Really, what's there is quite charming and includes a lot of very entertaining moments. It's just a touch tonally uneven and, while it moves at a solid clip, could use some judicious trimming, Still an entertaining show if a bit more Die, Mommie, Die! than Psycho Beach Party.

Measure for Measure

Alrighty, I'm gonna go out on a limb here. Shakespeare: sure, yes, I accept that he's one of the greatest writers of...ever. But can we be real? Dude was capable of some hacky bullshit now and again. Know what I think the "problem" in his "problem plays" is? They're not very good.


Let's get to it: Measure for Measure demonstrates a superb understanding of human interaction and psychology (most of the time), includes passages of beautiful writing, and has some really fabulous characters. It is also crazy stupid.


Let's try to run through this plot as briefly as possible. The Duke leaves town and puts his friend Angelo in charge. Angelo has Claudio arrested for fornication. Claudio's sister tries to convince Angelo not to execute her brother (was this seriously the punishment for fornication in Vienna, ever?), and he says that he'll agree to let Claudio live if Isabella (who happens to be a nun) will sleep with him. Conveniently, the Duke never left town. Instead, he's roaming the streets dressed as a priest and while completely unwilling to just take off his priest outfit and tell Angelo to go fuck himself (because then the play would be really, really short), he sort of manipulates things behind the scenes until we've had an opportunity to have lots of conversations about justice, compassion, civility, etc. and Shakespeare has had the opportunity to set up one of the most ridiculous denouements I've ever encountered. Exeunt logic, chased by a bear.


I realize that you have to watch shows while keeping in mind when they were written. Things may very well feel cliched or artificial now that obviously weren't that way when the plays were written. Measure for Measure, though, really stretches the boundaries of my ability to just run with it. Key moment: the Duke tells Isabella her brother is dead because he doesn't want to ruin the surprise when said brother arrives alive and well. WTF?! Really, this just allows that final scene to be even more dramatic and left me thinking, "What. A. Dick."


So how do you even stage something like this? It's basically the world's most miserable farce, dripping in self-seriousness until things go fully ridiculous at the end. Well, if you're director David Esbjornson, you pepper the first act with a whole bunch of actors dressed as S&M cats or hookers wearing outfits clearly ripped off from Alexander McQueen (don't forget to see the exhibit at the Met--in its last week!). These whores and demons seem to represent the ugliness of mankind, but try not to think about them too much, because they'll all disappear after intermission once they realize they don't have any idea what they're doing either.


And YET. I kind of really enjoyed myself. I know, I know. Yes, the play is a cockamamie excuse to string together a bunch of conversations on big topics. But those conversations are really fascinating. And much of this cast is really, really good. I was in love with Carson Elrod as Pompey. Not a big part, but he was incredible and provided delightful comic relief. Sign that your comedy is going astray? You need comic relief. Tonya Pinkins in the even smaller part of Mistress Overdone seems to be having a blast hovering way over the top--the only place this character can exist. Making an impression in larger roles, Danai Gurira's Isabella and Michael Hayden's Angelo were the emotional yin and yang to the show. Her accent seemed to be floating all over the place, but her performance was beautifully emotional and involving. And Hayden was a delicious villain, playing the smarminess and hypocrisy of the character simmering at a low heat that made him all the more familiar and disturbing.


The Shakespeare in the Park experience is a delight. You can't argue with free, fully-staged shows with incredible casts. And since they do this every year, sure, they have to cycle through some lesser plays. The city only needs so many Hamlets and Twelfth Nights (seriously--I can't watch another Hamlet for at least five years). Still, while I do agree that Shakespeare is one of the greatest writers of all time, I think it's fair to acknowledge he had some duds. The fact that the Public Theater is doing a production of Titus Andronicus this fall is completely baffling to me. In any case, I did enjoy myself, and there was as much to recommend about the production as there was to mock. I can fairly say nothing about the night bored me. So I'll still call it a win.

Hair: Be-In for Marriage Equality

After spending a Saturday night at a friend's bachelorette party (in spite of not being a lady), I went to a benefit for marriage equality with performances from the current cast of Hair. This is not the first benefit I've been to for the cause (regardless of my own semi-ambivalence: we'll get there), but it was a particularly special one as it happened to be the first day that same-sex weddings were happening in New York.

So let's just get this out of the way: I'm supportive of gay marriage in a very basic, "If they can do it, we should be able to do it," kind of way. My actual ambivalence is really toward the institution of marriage which to me seems a bit hokey and dated. While I understand the benefits in practice, I don't know that I believe state-recognized partnerships are really the world's best way to handle things like visitation rights and shared finances. It's the easiest, most obvious way to go about it, yes. But it seems to me to deny the complicated nature of human relationships. Plus, let's be honest: when I found out that gay marriage was legalized, my first thoughts were titally selfish: Fuck, I'd have to buy more presents, go to more weddings, and feel more pressure to find "the one." Hey, at least I'm honest about it.

You know what cuts through some cynical and/or self-centered bullshit? Seeing two women in their 50s in matching outfits and "Just Married" sashes, holding hands and kissing each other over and over as they waited to get into the show. Seriously. It was like a knockout punch to my heart. I couldn't have been any happier for two complete strangers. Near the top of the show, the two women were recognized from the stage and congratulated. I'm gonna skip right ahead to the highlight of the show: Kacie Sheik got up and said she had written a song for her friend's wedding reception but chickened out and hadn't performed it there. Looking into the audience, she spotted the couple and said, "Well, I guess I'm kind of singing it at yours!" I felt like the Grinch with my heart swelliing to three times its size (see, there was an explanation for my opening image!). I'm obsessed with Sheik's voice. She's been trucking along in Hair for about three years now, and she's amazing in her fairly small part, but I can't wait to see her do something new.

None of this really addresses the performance overall which was quite fun. There was a hiccup with one other original song which the cast member (I really can't remember who it was--eeps!) tried to play her grating, Ani-esque song on the guitar and kept losing her place. Another hiccup with Nicholas Belton occasionally (yet adorably) losing the words to the song "Three is a Magic Number." Better off were Caren Lynn Tackett who ripped it up with a song SHE had written (so many multi-talented ladies!) and Allison Guinn who centered on a cover of "Dream On" that was shockingly good. Shocking only in that I didn't think ANYONE could cover that song. The show's leads were present to play guitar but allowed their lesser known castmates take the night's bows. But the night belonged to a pair of women who had flown in from California to get hitched. I may not be 100% supportive of marriage, but I could not have been any happier that those two COULD get married. So oh yes, there were tears.