The Beastly Bombing

I really wonder if there's a target audience beyond me for The Beastly Bombing. Well, sure, I'm sure they didn't have most 20-year-old females in mind when they were writing this terrorist operetta, but I'm an odd case - my parents and I flew all the way to Buxton, England when I was nine to attend the Gilbert & Sullivan festival, where I performed in the ensemble of the Mikado and saw a different show every night. And on top of that, I'm incredibly politically incorrect, and love myself a good terrorist joke. So last fall when I saw that this was being produced in LA, where my parents live, I sent them an email begging them to go watch and report. They didn't of course. Imagine my delight when it shows up as part of NYMF!

The show opens with two white supremacists and two members of Al Qaeda attempting to bomb the Brooklyn bridge - they fail, but yet another terrorist group succeeds and various misadventures eventually find them in jail with the president's two druggie daughters. Love (by way of E) eventually curbs their evil ways (and since there are four males and two females, guess what!), but not before they find themselves at the White House, epicenter of ZOG - the Zionist Occupation Government.


The score feels very much like an authentic operetta, and most of the actors do an admirable job handling it. Especially apt is Jesse Merlin as President Dodgeson, handling the patter (I suppose he plays the John Reed role?) with remarkable ease. Whether the songs themselves work is hit and miss - they all sound appropriate to the format, but the girls' songs about their drug addiction don't have quite the same level of hilarity of "The Union of Forgotten Terrorists." The best song, though, has to be "The Sorrows of the Sensitive White Supremacist," a song immediately preceeded by my favorite line in any NYMF show so far: "I sick of being treated like crap because I'm a loser!" You can listen to the song at the Beastly Bombing's show page, though I doubt it will be quite the same as watching Aaron Matijasic prance around the stage while singing it.

And speaking of prancing, I feel I should mention the choreography by Kevin Remington. Always appropriate to the score but still finding ways to make the audience laugh out loud, it's really masterfully done, providing context to the songs while elevating the humor.

As I said, this show may have trouble finding an audience. Just like any theater crowd, a majority of the patrons were... let's say elderly, and I saw more than a few with their hands folded politely in their late during curtain call while the people surrounding hooted and hollered. And I'll admit, some parts crossed the line of decency even for little old me. So who knows? I mostly enjoyed it. Who knows if you will.
(Haha, sorry. Worst ending to a review ever, I know.)

Going Down Swingin'

Going Down Swingin' is, quality-wise, the best show of the festival so far. Though it may not be my favorite (as those spots generally go to the flawed underdogs - what can I say, I'm a sucker for musicals that need work), there's not a single song or plot point that needs cutting or expanding. It all works perfectly.
... I feel really weird writing that.

An adaptation of the opera Don Giovanni set in the dying days of radio, Going Down Swingin' takes you through a rehearsal of The Liberty Cigarettes Dean Newhouse Variety Hour, then the live airing of a show a week later. It's probably not a spoiler to tell you that things don't go all that well for Dean - in a tragedy a character used to getting what they want simply won't. And it's not hard to see why Christopher Shyer took a few days off from starring in Mamma Mia! to play Dean. His portrayal is a far cry from Sam, who is by necessity drowned out by ABBA songs - Dean is charming yet sinister, and Shyer's subtle and slow realization that his whole world is crumbling around him is both satisfying and devastating to watch.

I'd heard most of the score before, as they sang a full six songs at the D-Lounge event in late August, but while out of context the songs lacked personality, in the show they were presented as glorious pieces of irony. Almost all sung within the context of the radio program, they seem to be plucked straight out of the era - some added some levity to a heavy show, some enhanced the drama, all worked beautifully. Without a song list I'll have a hard time listing favorites, but I particularly loved Meredith Patterson's 11 o'clock rendition of "Sorry, My Dear" and Maria Schaffel's stunning farewell in "He Thrills Me." The radio program itself provides numerous hilarious moments - shows like "Our Boy Harry" (starring 28-year-old Max Meadows, brilliantly played by Spamalot star Tim Deckman, as 16-year-old Harry) and "The Trials of Constance" (about a 30-year-old spinster trying to find love in her waning years) are played to their full potential, and the constant plugs for Liberty Cigarettes are side-splitting.

I suppose my only qualm with the show is that as a constant checker of the NYMF website when cast lists were being finalized, I noticed them listing one Colin Hanlon as playing Oscar Van Zandt for a week or so - I mean no slight against Leo Ash Evens, but it's simply not fair to tease me with one of my favorite actors then yank that away.

The Family Fiorelli

Friends of mine had opined that this year's NYMF festival had shows with less gripping concepts than last's - where is the Oedipus for Kids? The [title of show]? The Family Fiorelli had that problem for me, and if it wasn't one of the very few shows I was given tickets to, I wouldn't have sought it out. Which would have meant missing one of my favorite shows of the festival so far - go figure.

The Family Fiorelli consists of a stereotypical Italian grandfather, the husband who spends all his time working at the winery, the wife having an affair with a priest, the son with cerebral palsy who's learning karate, the 9-year-old wine savant and the pregnant lesbian sister. They've tried to market it on the craziness of this group of characters, but the stories are much more human than that. While on paper the characters sounds bizarre, its their very quirks that make them so real and sympathetic on stage. If my life had to be summed up with a pithy phrase, I'm sure I'd sound insane too.

The ensemble of actors all play their roles with heart and honesty, but the two that really stood out where Harrsion Chad (who'd make a cracking Evan if they decide Ricky Ashley looks too old to star in 13, though I suppose Chad doesn't look any younger) and Sy Adamowsky, possibly the most talented child I've ever seen on stage. With a gorgeous clear voice, he never relies on acting cute to get the laugh, and his poignant act one finale "A Prayer to St Jude" is a gentle but perfect way to be sent to intermission.

The score is a strange mix of 80s power ballads and traditional musical theater songs, but it works, and provides multiple opportunities for what a show like this needs - extreme emotion let out through music. Several times characters are singing the same song and words with entirely different context - "So Close," for example, is a duet between husband and wife, with the wife opining about how close the two of them used to be and the husband singing about being so close to success. "I Am Delivered Too," a song after the lesbian lovers' baby has been born had me cringing in its early bars at the very concept, but close to tears by the end of Daria Hardeman's powerful delivery. (Ooh. Pun. Sorry. That was really, really bad.) Other songs allow for the adult men to showcase their strong tenors, and "Turn the Other Cheek" is a hilarious trio in which the three men talk about all the people who's asses they want to kick. An immature reaction to events, for sure, but one that's thoroughly real.

I hope that others didn't have the same reaction to Fiorelli's marketing that I did - and from the way it's selling it looks like they didn't. Regardless, there are still tickets to the Friday, October 5th performance - I suggest you buy them.

Bernice Bobs Her Mullet, a mini-review

Almost every NYMF show I've been to has had walk-outs at intermission. It's never indicative of the quality of the show, at least not in my mind - even my favorites have seen a significantly smaller second act crowd. So it looks like the NYMF audiences are looking for shows more like
Bernice Bobs Her Mullet: a tight, enjoyable 90 minutes of simple plot and catchy songs.

Loosely based on the F Scott Fitzgerald story "Bernice Bobs Her Hair," the musical changes the social status of the titular character from the wealthy girl of the 1920s to trailer trash (complete with mullet) in a more modern decade. It immediately sets her up as an outcast - I'm not ashamed to admit that I had to keep my gag reflex in check during that first hour - and presents numerous opportunities for the show to be a raucous comedy, at which it mostly succeeds.

I'm keeping this short since, well, I'm tired, Bernice has been covered before, and it sadly closed already. Many of the songs were stand-outs, but besides Bernice's two cracking solo numbers near the end I also loved "Hate Yourself" and "What an Awkward Moment." The cast is almost uniformly great, but I can only describe Hollie Howard's Marjorie as the worst G(a)linda I've ever seen - take that as you will.

The Guerilla Micro-Musicals

I had my first experience with the micro-musicals at NYMF at yesterday's 1pm matinee of The Last Starfighter. Announced about a week ago, these events were to consist of random audience members at certain shows bursting into song - I wish I could find the press release to link to, but it's lots in the depths of the internet, I'm afraid. I suppose the whole thing was inspired by Reach! The Lecture Musical!, one of the more inspired YouTube viral videos of the last few years:



Isn't that great?

Very few people in the cast and creative team of Starfighter knew what was happening when during the customary curtain speech a clip of music played. (Our PSM told me he looked in panic down at the computer running sound, thinking he'd accidentally pressed something.) When a man in the third row started singing, I remembered the press release, but clearly no one else did - there was panic in a lot of eyes. Sabotage at the second show! Then the girl sitting in front of me on the stairs stood up joined in, joined by several other audience members. I wonder what happened to their seats once they left - the performance was almost sold out, and there was barely a seat to be had in that house after 12:55. Ok, wandering way way off topic.

The song they sang was called "Restless Legs" and seemed to be some bizarre version of The Drowsy Chaperone's "Cold Feet." I wasn't all that impressed, sad to say. Bursting into song in the middle of a lecture hall has an air of revolution, defying expectations in a stereotypically dull and lifeless venue. Bursting into song in the middle of an audience about to watch a musical based on a cheesy 80s sci-fi movie? Doesn't quite. I'm sure I'll run into another of these micro-musicals in the next week, considering I'm seeing another 11 shows. Here's hoping it has more of an effect.

Austentatious, No Pride and Extreme Prejudice

Austentatious exceeded my expectations. But that's not surprising, I was hardly there under the best of circumstances - out at 10:50 with a group of friends after the opening performance of The Last Starfighter, I get a call from a friend. "Where are you?" he says. Which reminds me that I'm supposed to be at the 11 o'clock Austentatious. Which is 10 blocks away. I make my excuses ("I heard it wasn't great," one says, "You don't have to go") before running up to the theater - where they held house and weren't even letting people in at 11. And to add insult to injury, they weren't even selling concessions before the show! Sure, I ate more than most on tech day, but some M&Ms would have been much appreciated.

As for the show, my expectations were dampened by the fact I'd seen Stephanie D'Abruzzo just a month ago in what appeared to be the exact same show - Kiss and Make Up at the Fringe. Behind the scenes of a ridiculous community theater production. Where have I heard that before? The aforementioned Fringe show had a dull first act, but picked up in the second when the farce of actually performing the play began with David Sabella-Mills playing both the male and female lead. Could Austentatious bring anything new to the table?

The surprising answer is yes. The first act is especially enjoyable - and though none of the tunes stuck in my head, the songs were great, more like sung scenes than numbers that brought the show to a halt. The introduction of the budding relationship between Sam and David in the second act was forced, if not unexpected, but attempted to make what had hitherto been the zany antics of a theater company into something a little more human. I felt it really slowed the show, especially when the second act started well after midnight. Unlike Kiss and Make Up, their show within a show is a straight play, and they perform it in what one can only presume is its 15-minute entirety near the end of the show. I perhaps would have enjoyed that more if it weren't 1am. Who's idea was 11pm shows anyway? Whoever it is, I'm surprised a venue director hasn't shot you by now.

The cast is uniformly excellent, though those with zanier roles (Paul Wyatt as the cheeto-loving stoner and Amy Goldberger as scene-hungry Lauren) are allowed to shine more than the straight characters (Stephanie D'Abruzzo's harried stage manager Sam and George Merrick's David who helped girlfriend Lauren audition only to find himself cast as Darcy). Defying this rule is the glistening Lisa Asher, whose professional and sadly sweet Jessica glows with a base humanity that is never forced.

Clearly it's nothing groundbreaking, but Austentatious has a lot of things going for it. The overexposure of the basic premise is such that it may not go on to see many future productions, but the energetic cast makes this one worth seeing.

Naughty! (Inappropriate language alert...)

Naughty! is a reading of the selected works of Emmett Taylor Farkas, a failed composer who became so fed up with the fact that his shows were never produced that he abandoned them in an Hells Kitchen apartment (the exact location and description of which I won't recreate since it was quite literally and accurately, to the street, intersection and floor, describing my own. creepy). Writing shows with titles like "Wake Up Stella. We're Being Attacked by Chihuahuas." and "The Importance of Being Beaver" may not have helped your case, there, Emmett...

Emmett Taylor Farkas is, of course, fake. The danger with this sort of show is that you're purposely showcasing bad songs, and while some of these had a hilarious sort of charm about them, far too many still fall flat. The framing of the reading had the four actors (Lisa Howard, Patti Murin, Michael James Scott and Frank Vlastnik) playing versions of themselves, hinting at back stories that never come to fruition. I full expected it to come out at the end that Frank was Farkas and had created this mystery about the composer to finally get his work produced, even if in this amateur fashion, but that wasn't the case. And the actors seemed to have the same indifferent feeling about his work I did - perhaps it would have gone over better if they were overly enthusiastic about these bad songs?

Nevertheless, there were laughs to be had in this review. "When the Fireman Come" (sung by gay arsonist Beaver Cleaver) was full of hilarious innuendo, and "Who Turned Out the Lights" from "Oh, Helen!" (the musical adaptation of The Miracle Worker) had such inappropriate delight. The song I had running through my head when I left the theater, however, was "The Dutiful Struggle of the Righteous Peasant Rabbit Class to Overthrow the Capitalist Pig MacGregor or... The Tale of Peter Fucking Rabbit," a song Farkas wrote for the pageant at his homosexual anarchist lover's communist elementary school, which is an endless refrain (with spurts of narration) of:

"Shit fuck piss cunt cocksucker motherfucker tits. Oooh oooh oooh. Shit fuck piss cunt cocksucker motherfucker tits. Oooh ooooh oooh."

That's never getting out of my head. Good thing I'm not babysitting soon...