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.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, September 28, 2007
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:
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...
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Two Roads Banana Split in a Forest (The Yellow Wood)
As one of the shows I had anticipated most in this year's NYMF (between performances of three stunning songs at NYTB in the D-Lounge back in August and the announcement of a stunning cast), The Yellow Wood had so much possibility to disappoint. But despite its many faults, The Yellow Wood's heart and sheer audacity made it one of the most enjoyable shows of the festival so far.
Chronicling the events of one Ritalin-free day in the life of an ADD Korean teen while he tries to memorize Robert Frost's most famous poem may not seem like material ripe for musicalization, but the endless limits of Adam's imagination allow for inventive sequences whose insanity is only enhanced by the addition of songs. After all, many of the population suspend disbelief for science fiction or slapstick comedy but draw the line at the musical, citing that people don't just burst into a number in the middle of their day. This is the world how Adam Davies sees it, full of animals, villains, problems to solve and yes, songs.
And what a world it is. In the realm of high school he has to deal with class president nominee Amber Santall, evil English teacher Mrs Mackleby, revolutionary best friend Casserole, his genius sister Gwen and the 'pretty cool girl' he meets in art class. In his imagination he has to deal with the terrifying evil bird, an unfinished bridge his loved ones keep crossing, two-headed monsters and various Korean relatives. Both fully realized, each world is inviting but terrifying, Adam's everyday problems just as menacing as the enemies in his head.
Supporting the strong book are the dazzling songs by Danny Larsen. Many of the strongest songs could play beautifully out of context ("Normal," "Yellow" and "Door/Window") but even those that are inextricably integrated into the show ("Point B," "Video Gameage") have charm and wit in spades. The performances, too, are dazzling. Jason Tam holds anchor of the show as Adam Davies, showing his frustration with his condition with an innocence and ferver that is utterly compelling. His gorgeous clear voice, so underutilized as Paul in A Chorus Line, gets more than enough of a showcase here. The supporting cast is uniformly excellent - Randy Blair deserves special note for stopping the show with "Tater Tot Casserole", and Caissie Levy and Yuka Takara as the two girls in Adam's life are perfect counterpoints to each other. Also, shoutout to Dennis Moench - I never laughed so much as I did at his cold sore line.
It's not a perfect show, and certainly not for everybody. I found the fantasy sequences engaging and exciting, though I've spoken to others for whom they fell flat. Certainly it has promise, though, and enough strong elements to satisfy any fan of musical theater.
I want a yellow umbrella!
The Brain from Planet X
In the interest of full disclosure, before I start my thoughts on Brain from Planet X, I should mention that I am listed as a production assistant in the program, and therefore am not entirely without bias. And without furthur ado...
I've mentioned before my disdain for the growing trend of self-conscious musicals - while individually they can be taken as love letters, I think as a whole they represent the growing discomfort with the musical as a form. As if the only way for a musical to be accepted is for it to be ironic. We know this is a musical, we know musicals are silly, and we're going to play it that way. (One of the things I like so much about Starfighter is its sincerity in this matter. It's unapologetic about its existence and it never references the fact that it's a musical. It just is.) But you can't expect anything but camp when going to a show entitled The Brain from Planet X. So why criticize it for that?
Framed with a Rocky Horror-like narrator, The Brain from Planet X has a negligible plot - the Brain (with his sidekicks Zubrick and Yoni) comes to earth with hopes of invading using his foolproof plan ten from outer space on unsuspecting nuclear family The Bensons. Like any good 50s b-movie, there's no attempt to give depth to any of the characters, so they hit every stereotype possible - doting wife, clueless husband, rebellious daughter who's tonguing a wannabe-beatnik, crazy old professor, power hungry general, sex-crazed alien. And since they don't need to introduce characters, there's more room for jokes. Luckily, so few of them fall flat that the lack of plot and interesting characters doesn't matter - it's damn funny.
As Fred, Rob Evan never breaks from the happy and simplistic character he creates, even when his marriage falls apart at his feet. It's a performance that no doubt looks easier than it is - imagine keeping a blank face while an alien in a leopard skinsuit is trying to seduce you. Amy Bodnar's Joyce is slightly creepy even before she's taken over by the will-bending machine, and Merrill Grant's Donna is frighteningly elastic. Poor Barry Pearl, so hilarious in rehearsals, was severely hindered by his binding costume as The Brain. The two that really stole the show for me were Chad Harlow, whose wordless performance as Private Partz had me rolling at every cock of the eyebrow or cynical gesticulaton and Cason Murphy as the uptight Zubrick, who gets two showstopping numbers in 'The Brain Tap' (see? it's a tap number, but also a medical procedure. cute!) and 'All About Men'.
The set, a series of projections, doesn't quite do the show justice, but is hilarious in its b-movie simplicity. The show takes full advantage of its NYMF-ness - a scene where General Mills addresses an assembly of cardboard cutouts and then demands answers which of course never come is the perfect example. Bruce Kimmel's music is simple but enjoyable and incredibly catchy, which I guess is an assessment that could encompass the entire show. It's not rocket science. It's just fun.
In short - every musical should have a number with buff men in gold spandex swim trunks.
I've mentioned before my disdain for the growing trend of self-conscious musicals - while individually they can be taken as love letters, I think as a whole they represent the growing discomfort with the musical as a form. As if the only way for a musical to be accepted is for it to be ironic. We know this is a musical, we know musicals are silly, and we're going to play it that way. (One of the things I like so much about Starfighter is its sincerity in this matter. It's unapologetic about its existence and it never references the fact that it's a musical. It just is.) But you can't expect anything but camp when going to a show entitled The Brain from Planet X. So why criticize it for that?
Framed with a Rocky Horror-like narrator, The Brain from Planet X has a negligible plot - the Brain (with his sidekicks Zubrick and Yoni) comes to earth with hopes of invading using his foolproof plan ten from outer space on unsuspecting nuclear family The Bensons. Like any good 50s b-movie, there's no attempt to give depth to any of the characters, so they hit every stereotype possible - doting wife, clueless husband, rebellious daughter who's tonguing a wannabe-beatnik, crazy old professor, power hungry general, sex-crazed alien. And since they don't need to introduce characters, there's more room for jokes. Luckily, so few of them fall flat that the lack of plot and interesting characters doesn't matter - it's damn funny.
As Fred, Rob Evan never breaks from the happy and simplistic character he creates, even when his marriage falls apart at his feet. It's a performance that no doubt looks easier than it is - imagine keeping a blank face while an alien in a leopard skinsuit is trying to seduce you. Amy Bodnar's Joyce is slightly creepy even before she's taken over by the will-bending machine, and Merrill Grant's Donna is frighteningly elastic. Poor Barry Pearl, so hilarious in rehearsals, was severely hindered by his binding costume as The Brain. The two that really stole the show for me were Chad Harlow, whose wordless performance as Private Partz had me rolling at every cock of the eyebrow or cynical gesticulaton and Cason Murphy as the uptight Zubrick, who gets two showstopping numbers in 'The Brain Tap' (see? it's a tap number, but also a medical procedure. cute!) and 'All About Men'.
The set, a series of projections, doesn't quite do the show justice, but is hilarious in its b-movie simplicity. The show takes full advantage of its NYMF-ness - a scene where General Mills addresses an assembly of cardboard cutouts and then demands answers which of course never come is the perfect example. Bruce Kimmel's music is simple but enjoyable and incredibly catchy, which I guess is an assessment that could encompass the entire show. It's not rocket science. It's just fun.
In short - every musical should have a number with buff men in gold spandex swim trunks.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Checking in on The Last Starfighter.
We open on Friday! So it makes sense that rehearsals are revving up - more run-throughs, less blocking, working in the props and the sets. The actors sang along to the tracks yesterday instead of Skip on piano for the first time, and I was pleasantly surprised at how smoothly it went. It's quite amazing listening to the evolution of a song and how performances change once characters are developed and ideas are set. And if there's one thing that has truly amazed me during the rehearsal process, it's the ability to see faults in a scene and the willingness to change it.
Being a PA isn't the most glamorous job, but I can't imagine another where I'd be fetching coffee one second and standing in for each of the two leads the next. There are so many reasons I'm not an actress - an inability to keep a straight face while Danny Binstock (Alex) is singing a romantic duet with the character I'm walking (Maggie, whose vocal part is being sung in falsetto by Jonathan Sandler in the background) is definitely one. And while walking the role of Alex in an earlier scene, I made the horrible mistake of assuming Patrick O'Henney (playing 11-year-old brother Louis) didn't know enough about Star Wars, and spent the rest of the day being quizzed on trivia I'd long forgotten. Except that I said the battle of Hoth was at the North Ridge, which is kind of right! I guess the answer he was looking for was 'Imperial Walkers.' Anyway, back to the other 80s sci-fi movie...
We start preliminary tech time on Wednesday, so although I'm seeing The Brain from Planet X and The Yellow Wood today, I might not have time to write them up before my computer becomes hijacked by the sound guys. We played around in the Theater at St Clement's last Thursday and started testing some of the lights, which should create some gorgeous effects, especially for a NYMF show. Designer Herrick Goldman has graced us with many fun lighting toys that I can't wait to see up and running, and I similarly anticipate hearing the music fill that theater. Sure the next few days will be crazy, what with tech and opening and still seeing seven other shows, but I revel in it. There aren't many weeks in the year where you can see seven new musicals one week and not run out the next - might as well take advantage!
And I don't think I ever linked to those press reels like I had promised! So here, enjoy. I know I have. Many many times. Because I'm a geek like that:
http://www.broadwayworld.com/videoplay.cfm?colid=21527
Being a PA isn't the most glamorous job, but I can't imagine another where I'd be fetching coffee one second and standing in for each of the two leads the next. There are so many reasons I'm not an actress - an inability to keep a straight face while Danny Binstock (Alex) is singing a romantic duet with the character I'm walking (Maggie, whose vocal part is being sung in falsetto by Jonathan Sandler in the background) is definitely one. And while walking the role of Alex in an earlier scene, I made the horrible mistake of assuming Patrick O'Henney (playing 11-year-old brother Louis) didn't know enough about Star Wars, and spent the rest of the day being quizzed on trivia I'd long forgotten. Except that I said the battle of Hoth was at the North Ridge, which is kind of right! I guess the answer he was looking for was 'Imperial Walkers.' Anyway, back to the other 80s sci-fi movie...
We start preliminary tech time on Wednesday, so although I'm seeing The Brain from Planet X and The Yellow Wood today, I might not have time to write them up before my computer becomes hijacked by the sound guys. We played around in the Theater at St Clement's last Thursday and started testing some of the lights, which should create some gorgeous effects, especially for a NYMF show. Designer Herrick Goldman has graced us with many fun lighting toys that I can't wait to see up and running, and I similarly anticipate hearing the music fill that theater. Sure the next few days will be crazy, what with tech and opening and still seeing seven other shows, but I revel in it. There aren't many weeks in the year where you can see seven new musicals one week and not run out the next - might as well take advantage!
And I don't think I ever linked to those press reels like I had promised! So here, enjoy. I know I have. Many many times. Because I'm a geek like that:
http://www.broadwayworld.com/videoplay.cfm?colid=21527
Monday, September 24, 2007
The Iconis and Maddock Variety Hour
"An Ars Nova special bulletin: ladies and gentlemen of the audience, we are sorry to inform you that your regularly schedule performance will not be seen tonight. We appreciate your understanding in this matter and hope you are not deterred from joining us in the future here at Ars Nova. Ars Nova - where all your theater dreams come true. So in lieu of the previously announced musical entertainment, here's... this... thing..."
*cue The Muppet Show theme song*
Tonight was supposed to be Hearken to a Pie Hole - alas, a barfight broke out between Joe Iconis and Duncan Sheik over the quality of Spring Awakening, and the former fractured a finger, and so couldn't write (*blogger cannot attest to the accuracy of this story!). Instead, they presented a variety show made up of songs from Triumphant Baby and other shows, which cannot accurately be reviewed, and so instead of trying to sum up its glorious insanity, I give you highlights in bullet points.
All in all, amazing night. I wish they'd make it a monthly event - I haven't laughed so hard in ages, and their schizophrenic writing is much better suited to a variety show than the one woman cabaret of Triumphant Baby. Team Iconis and Maddock!
- Curing Nick Blaemire of his inability to walk. Nick being afraid of the microphone and Joe telling him to "Pretend it's a penis. Just get right up on it." Nick later singing 'A Whole Entire Person,' a really fabulous song, then being told to get the fuck off the stage for being too musical theater.
- Mary Bond Davis is a hard-hugging bitch. Mary Bond Davis pulling candy out of her bra and throwing it at the audience.
- Lance Rubin and Cortney Wolfson singing 'In The Bathroom' from the musical Plastic.
- Matt Wilson spending a full two minutes shoving straws and balloons up his nose to AC/DC's 'Back in Black'
- The Waiting for Godot plot of them saving a chair for Cameron Mackintosh, and him never showing, leading to a mini-breakdown.
- Katie Schorr saying that there are stars in the "seams of that too-short skirt of that trying-too-hard AMDA student" and said student having ZERO sense of humor about the remark. Lorinda Lisitiza bringing it up again a few minutes later. The girl's face.
All in all, amazing night. I wish they'd make it a monthly event - I haven't laughed so hard in ages, and their schizophrenic writing is much better suited to a variety show than the one woman cabaret of Triumphant Baby. Team Iconis and Maddock!
Die Hard: The Puppet Musical
I knew mostly what to expect from Die Hard: The Puppet Musical. It's there in the title - classic action movie Die Hard, with puppets and flashy musical numbers. And for better or worse, that's what I got. Though more suited for a midnight performance than the 1pm show I saw, there were more than a few laughs in this spoof that was ultimately saved by its concept: the puppets.
Following in the growingly tiresome trend of self-mocking musicals, Die Hard: The Puppet Musical begins (as the movie does) with John McClane on a plane to Los Angeles, where he sings his theme song, complete with lyrics "This is my theme song." Witty, huh? John Ardolino doesn't quite have the charisma needy to carry the show, but the musical doesn't rely on his presence as much as the movie does on Bruce Willis. As the only human amongst a sea of necessarily gaudy and stereotypical puppets, he's allowed to fade into the background while the other characters shine. It overloads on camp to the point of excess - while Argyle and Sgt. Powell are sympathetic characters with faults, the musical turns them into the strangest of roles, and you don't know whether to laugh at the caricatures or be horrified at their lack of interest in the situation. By taking any sense of gravitas out of the plot, the musical makes all of its characters odious. I mean, is it really all that funny to have Sgt. Powell sing a song about repeatedly killing a series of children? Friends of mine can attest to the fact that I'm possibly the least politically correct person in New York, but the portrayals of the two black characters and the senseless addition of muslim and asian characters to the evil gang made even me uncomfortable.
Hilariously, the characters who get the most development are the most maligned in the movie. They bring big blonde and beautiful Karl the German into the foreground and fabricate a love story between him and Fritz, leading up to the power ballad "What's a Terrorist To Do? (When He's in Love)" and a strangely touching death scene.
Whatever the faults in the writing, the show itself was fascinating to watch, if only for the puppetry. Though some characters were simple sock puppets and others more like traditional ventriloquist dummies, many of the puppets were incredibly effective in their design. Evil Hans was my favorite - consisting of only a long, thin, highly detailed face with a collar and tie, it was held by one puppeteer in front of anothers' face, as the latter acted with only her hands. On the other end of the spectrum, Karl was a box made of yellow foam with a mop for hair, reminiscent of the 'Purpose' boxes in Avenue Q and so immediately indicative of character. Tagaki, asian boss of the Nakatomi corporation, was a suit with a yellow balloon for a head - which made for a sweet if inevitable death.
I certainly don't regret seeing Die Hard: The Puppet Musical. It made for an entertaining hour and a half, even if it did drag me away from the fabulous finds at the flea market. The question is, where does a show like this find its niche? If Evil Dead flopped off-broadway...
Following in the growingly tiresome trend of self-mocking musicals, Die Hard: The Puppet Musical begins (as the movie does) with John McClane on a plane to Los Angeles, where he sings his theme song, complete with lyrics "This is my theme song." Witty, huh? John Ardolino doesn't quite have the charisma needy to carry the show, but the musical doesn't rely on his presence as much as the movie does on Bruce Willis. As the only human amongst a sea of necessarily gaudy and stereotypical puppets, he's allowed to fade into the background while the other characters shine. It overloads on camp to the point of excess - while Argyle and Sgt. Powell are sympathetic characters with faults, the musical turns them into the strangest of roles, and you don't know whether to laugh at the caricatures or be horrified at their lack of interest in the situation. By taking any sense of gravitas out of the plot, the musical makes all of its characters odious. I mean, is it really all that funny to have Sgt. Powell sing a song about repeatedly killing a series of children? Friends of mine can attest to the fact that I'm possibly the least politically correct person in New York, but the portrayals of the two black characters and the senseless addition of muslim and asian characters to the evil gang made even me uncomfortable.
Hilariously, the characters who get the most development are the most maligned in the movie. They bring big blonde and beautiful Karl the German into the foreground and fabricate a love story between him and Fritz, leading up to the power ballad "What's a Terrorist To Do? (When He's in Love)" and a strangely touching death scene.
Whatever the faults in the writing, the show itself was fascinating to watch, if only for the puppetry. Though some characters were simple sock puppets and others more like traditional ventriloquist dummies, many of the puppets were incredibly effective in their design. Evil Hans was my favorite - consisting of only a long, thin, highly detailed face with a collar and tie, it was held by one puppeteer in front of anothers' face, as the latter acted with only her hands. On the other end of the spectrum, Karl was a box made of yellow foam with a mop for hair, reminiscent of the 'Purpose' boxes in Avenue Q and so immediately indicative of character. Tagaki, asian boss of the Nakatomi corporation, was a suit with a yellow balloon for a head - which made for a sweet if inevitable death.
I certainly don't regret seeing Die Hard: The Puppet Musical. It made for an entertaining hour and a half, even if it did drag me away from the fabulous finds at the flea market. The question is, where does a show like this find its niche? If Evil Dead flopped off-broadway...
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Pay the Piper, it's only $20.
The Piper was my third show of the day on Friday, starting at 9pm at the Theater at St Clement's. Good lord. That's a lot of shows. As you walk in you're treated to live Irish folk music from the onstage band before the show starts - this being NYMF that means, of course, the curtain speech, which sadly delayed Nancy Anderson bouncing onstage with a "Let's have a tune to get this tale started, huh?" Though the show is being marketed as the pied piper meets Jack the Ripper in 19th Century Boston, it's not nearly as dark as that, and is more about the art of storytelling, in song, in person and in lies.
Ostensibly centering on Jordan, owner of a boarding house that caters to those outcast by other parts of society, and her lame daughter Wilder, the Piper begins with the arrival of a mysterious stranger - one Mr. Grimm, collecting stories for a book on folklore. Though he starts off as belligerent, he eventually warms to the pair. Meanwhile, a mysterious strangler is picking off whores one by one, cleansing (as the priest says) the streets of Boston. The story and characters play second fiddle, however, to Marcus Hummon's lively score. The music is sometimes so entrancing that you forget to pay attention and lose track of the story, which is what I'll blame for my confusion as to the resolution of the story at the end. If anyone wishes to comment and set me straight on the events, I'd very much appreciate it...
Christiane Noll is a powerhouse as central figure Jordan, with a gorgeous clear voice and personality to spare. I still think Jillian Louis (about whom I raved in my very first entry) would make a cracking Judy Garland, but at that she's a little miscast as the 13-year-old cripple. My friend turned to me at intermission and said "Why isn't Celia Keenan-Bolger in this show?" I cringed a little, so he corrected "Why isn't Jenni Barber in this show?" And I have to agree. Nancy Anderson's Ma Kelly is magnetic and Debra Walton and Darin de Paul make an engaging odd couple, all surrounded by an energetic and strong ensemble.
The Piper is a show that really rises and falls on its music, and for that reason it's mostly a success. Though the plot is muddled, it's carried by the Celtic tunes and the good old Irish spirit of the characters. Don't try to understand. Just sit back and listen.
Ostensibly centering on Jordan, owner of a boarding house that caters to those outcast by other parts of society, and her lame daughter Wilder, the Piper begins with the arrival of a mysterious stranger - one Mr. Grimm, collecting stories for a book on folklore. Though he starts off as belligerent, he eventually warms to the pair. Meanwhile, a mysterious strangler is picking off whores one by one, cleansing (as the priest says) the streets of Boston. The story and characters play second fiddle, however, to Marcus Hummon's lively score. The music is sometimes so entrancing that you forget to pay attention and lose track of the story, which is what I'll blame for my confusion as to the resolution of the story at the end. If anyone wishes to comment and set me straight on the events, I'd very much appreciate it...
Christiane Noll is a powerhouse as central figure Jordan, with a gorgeous clear voice and personality to spare. I still think Jillian Louis (about whom I raved in my very first entry) would make a cracking Judy Garland, but at that she's a little miscast as the 13-year-old cripple. My friend turned to me at intermission and said "Why isn't Celia Keenan-Bolger in this show?" I cringed a little, so he corrected "Why isn't Jenni Barber in this show?" And I have to agree. Nancy Anderson's Ma Kelly is magnetic and Debra Walton and Darin de Paul make an engaging odd couple, all surrounded by an energetic and strong ensemble.
The Piper is a show that really rises and falls on its music, and for that reason it's mostly a success. Though the plot is muddled, it's carried by the Celtic tunes and the good old Irish spirit of the characters. Don't try to understand. Just sit back and listen.
Friday, September 21, 2007
The Good Fight - The Wonder from Down Under?
The Good Fight plays something like a PBS educational special crossed with the most trite of anti-war flicks, but why shouldn't it? An insert in the program informs the audience that this tour of the Western Australian Academy of Performing Arts show was funded by the Australian Govenment. But though the show ultimately plays like a school production, there is much to admire in what they bill as this "epic about boxing, battle, and what makes a hero."
Following the story of famed Australian fighter Les Darcy and childhood friend Charlie Faulkner as they deal with the politics of WW1 in Australia and beyond, The Good Fight is blessed with a strong story and some extremely powerful moments. The first act is less entertaining than the second, spending far too much time (yet with not enough focus on characters, if they insist on featuring it) on Darcy's childhood and rise to fame as a boxer. Often the parallel drawn between boxing and war and the titular 'good fight' is a little too heavy handed but at times (like the haunting penultimate scene) it is written with flair and played beautifully.
The cast and crew of The Good Fight, as I understand it, flew in from Australia at the beginning of this week and fly back soon after Sunday's final performance. With such a short time in New York, and playing to a sadly empty house, it's no wonder that many of the young actors showed their nerves while singing, with wandering and vacant eyes betraying them. There's no denying their talent, but confidence will come with experience, and they were unable to completely lose themselves into their characters. Special mention must be made of Gareth Keegan (playing Les) whose gorgeous tenor carried many of the songs and Chrystal de Grussa as his conflicted mother.
The few ensemble shows I've seen at NYMF so far (and work on The Last Starfighter) have led me to appreciate the beauty in a full and lush harmony of twenty or so voices, something I feel is rarely seen on the Broadway stage these days. (Coram Boy, I miss you!) The Good Fight has this in spades, and some great songs. But I think the ultimate problem is the intention - though by the end of the show I realized I had enjoyed it, it took a long while to warm to it, and I think that's in good part because I couldn't find the target audience. I assume my parents (fussy though they are) would have enjoyed it greatly, and that's a demographic not many writers are aiming for in their work. Who does the Good Fight really appeal to? It's a shame that what could be a strong show will likely be forgotten in New York by the time NYMF ends.
Following the story of famed Australian fighter Les Darcy and childhood friend Charlie Faulkner as they deal with the politics of WW1 in Australia and beyond, The Good Fight is blessed with a strong story and some extremely powerful moments. The first act is less entertaining than the second, spending far too much time (yet with not enough focus on characters, if they insist on featuring it) on Darcy's childhood and rise to fame as a boxer. Often the parallel drawn between boxing and war and the titular 'good fight' is a little too heavy handed but at times (like the haunting penultimate scene) it is written with flair and played beautifully.
The cast and crew of The Good Fight, as I understand it, flew in from Australia at the beginning of this week and fly back soon after Sunday's final performance. With such a short time in New York, and playing to a sadly empty house, it's no wonder that many of the young actors showed their nerves while singing, with wandering and vacant eyes betraying them. There's no denying their talent, but confidence will come with experience, and they were unable to completely lose themselves into their characters. Special mention must be made of Gareth Keegan (playing Les) whose gorgeous tenor carried many of the songs and Chrystal de Grussa as his conflicted mother.
The few ensemble shows I've seen at NYMF so far (and work on The Last Starfighter) have led me to appreciate the beauty in a full and lush harmony of twenty or so voices, something I feel is rarely seen on the Broadway stage these days. (Coram Boy, I miss you!) The Good Fight has this in spades, and some great songs. But I think the ultimate problem is the intention - though by the end of the show I realized I had enjoyed it, it took a long while to warm to it, and I think that's in good part because I couldn't find the target audience. I assume my parents (fussy though they are) would have enjoyed it greatly, and that's a demographic not many writers are aiming for in their work. Who does the Good Fight really appeal to? It's a shame that what could be a strong show will likely be forgotten in New York by the time NYMF ends.
Like Love? I'm Not Sure How It Feels About You.
Like Love has been on my group of friends' to-see list ever since the cast was announced. Why? Because we were the few who liked - nay, loved - High Fidelity and its poor poor cast. And when you cast Jon Patrick Walker (The Most Pathetic Man in the World, Bruce Springsteen and Rob u/s) and Emily Swallow (Marie LaSalle) in a show, you draw that crowd. Unfortunately, considering its two week run, the crowd of High Fidelity fans is more like a small gathering. I assume this is the reason for what was a sadly empty house for this afternoon's performance of Like Love.
Sadly, all that comes to mind when I think of Like Love is the New York Time's dismissal of High Fidelity as "all-time top 5 most forgettable musicals." Though it's a pleasant show, there's nothing in its short 75 minute run-time that would make this entry in this years festival stand out from the other 33. As the two lovers, the High Fidelity alums are affable and affecting, with voices that carry even the mediocre introspective solos to a higher plane (the music is at its best when it's conversational and upbeat). However, nothing in the writing distinguishes their characters from the 'he' and 'she' by which they are billed. What's most puzzling about the show, however, is 'Love,' played by Danielle Ferland. Covered in tattoos and gaudy jewelry and dressed in a tight black dress with red bra poking out of the top, the shows vision of love isn't alluring at all - if anything, she plays the role as menacing, which is clearly not the intent from the way events play out onstage.
After all this, it sounds like I disliked the show, which couldn't be further from the truth. There's much to enjoy in this intimate musical - there's just not much to remember. And yes, it's a short review. My next show starts in an hour...
Sadly, all that comes to mind when I think of Like Love is the New York Time's dismissal of High Fidelity as "all-time top 5 most forgettable musicals." Though it's a pleasant show, there's nothing in its short 75 minute run-time that would make this entry in this years festival stand out from the other 33. As the two lovers, the High Fidelity alums are affable and affecting, with voices that carry even the mediocre introspective solos to a higher plane (the music is at its best when it's conversational and upbeat). However, nothing in the writing distinguishes their characters from the 'he' and 'she' by which they are billed. What's most puzzling about the show, however, is 'Love,' played by Danielle Ferland. Covered in tattoos and gaudy jewelry and dressed in a tight black dress with red bra poking out of the top, the shows vision of love isn't alluring at all - if anything, she plays the role as menacing, which is clearly not the intent from the way events play out onstage.
After all this, it sounds like I disliked the show, which couldn't be further from the truth. There's much to enjoy in this intimate musical - there's just not much to remember. And yes, it's a short review. My next show starts in an hour...
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Tully (A Rave With No Particular Qualms)
If anything is better this year at NYMF than Tully (In No Particular Order), then whatever show it is will be nothing short of stunning. An engaging (if oft-told) story told in a unique way with gorgeous music and a fantastic cast, Tully is one of the best shows I've seen in a long time.
Reminiscent of a darker blend of Company and Amour, Tully (In No Particular Order) follows a poet remembering his love affair with the famed Clodia Beautee, and follows the same scattered train of logic that memories so often do. Bouncing around by theme, recalling the beginning after reliving the end, while still creating a cohesive narrative and yet managing to avoid pretension in a show about a poet, Tully's construction is nearly flawless, with an execution even on a NYMF budget that manages to do it justice. But what struck me most was that for one of the few shows in the festival that bills itself as a drama, Tully had more sophisticated and easy laughs than anything I've seen so far. "The Door Song" and its conceit was so simple yet so unique that the audience was rolling on the floor for each refrain.
The cast is uniformly great and seemingly effortless in their characters: Adam Hose gets the short stick as the titular Tully, as the show could easily be stolen from beneath him, but he holds his own amongst a more interesting ensemble. Autumn Hulbert and David McGee are utterly charming as Tully's practical sister and her henpecked husband, a believable married couple who just steal the beginning of the show with their duet 'Forever'. The show seems to be promoted, however, on the presence Austin Miller and Kate Rockwell from Grease: You're The One That I Want, an interesting marketing choice for a show with such a unique voice. But however one felt about them on reality TV, their performances are dead on. The cocky and abrasive character that the editors of Grease created for Austin serves him well in this show - his Claude seems like he's playing with the role they gave him on that show and taking it to the next level. He merely had to walk onstage to make me burst out laughing, and his number "The Trial" would stop the show in any setting that would allow it. Kate Rockwell is too inherently likable to believably play the villain (a problem I had with her Sharpay in High School Musical at North Shore which, yes, I saw), but she's incredibly seductive when the role calls for it and sings "Bob" with the sass of a much more seasoned performer.
Most remarkable about the show, though, is the lush score, brought to life with beautiful orchestrations using a harp and a variety of woodwinds. Every song is a standout, each diverse and specific to scenes and characterizations while still creating a cohesive whole.
Since unequivocal raves are boring, I'll cut this short (rather than try to come up with some forced criticisms). Tully is a must-see. Buy your tickets before it sells out.
Reminiscent of a darker blend of Company and Amour, Tully (In No Particular Order) follows a poet remembering his love affair with the famed Clodia Beautee, and follows the same scattered train of logic that memories so often do. Bouncing around by theme, recalling the beginning after reliving the end, while still creating a cohesive narrative and yet managing to avoid pretension in a show about a poet, Tully's construction is nearly flawless, with an execution even on a NYMF budget that manages to do it justice. But what struck me most was that for one of the few shows in the festival that bills itself as a drama, Tully had more sophisticated and easy laughs than anything I've seen so far. "The Door Song" and its conceit was so simple yet so unique that the audience was rolling on the floor for each refrain.
The cast is uniformly great and seemingly effortless in their characters: Adam Hose gets the short stick as the titular Tully, as the show could easily be stolen from beneath him, but he holds his own amongst a more interesting ensemble. Autumn Hulbert and David McGee are utterly charming as Tully's practical sister and her henpecked husband, a believable married couple who just steal the beginning of the show with their duet 'Forever'. The show seems to be promoted, however, on the presence Austin Miller and Kate Rockwell from Grease: You're The One That I Want, an interesting marketing choice for a show with such a unique voice. But however one felt about them on reality TV, their performances are dead on. The cocky and abrasive character that the editors of Grease created for Austin serves him well in this show - his Claude seems like he's playing with the role they gave him on that show and taking it to the next level. He merely had to walk onstage to make me burst out laughing, and his number "The Trial" would stop the show in any setting that would allow it. Kate Rockwell is too inherently likable to believably play the villain (a problem I had with her Sharpay in High School Musical at North Shore which, yes, I saw), but she's incredibly seductive when the role calls for it and sings "Bob" with the sass of a much more seasoned performer.
Most remarkable about the show, though, is the lush score, brought to life with beautiful orchestrations using a harp and a variety of woodwinds. Every song is a standout, each diverse and specific to scenes and characterizations while still creating a cohesive whole.
Since unequivocal raves are boring, I'll cut this short (rather than try to come up with some forced criticisms). Tully is a must-see. Buy your tickets before it sells out.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Angle of the Sun, or, Ode to a Non-Equity Actor
The Angle of the Sun has the benefit of being one of the shows at NYMF with the most buzz - not only is it the 100th show in the festival's history, but the music was written by Larry Pressgrove, MD (and actor!) of [title of show], a previous success story. I had already heard mixed reviews coming off of its first performance on Monday night, but I tried to ignore them when I saw the show on Tuesday.
The musical follows the romantic plights of its protagonist Jan (Amanda Watkins) from her first love at 17 in 1966 to her 1987 art exhibition at 38. Though it's split into two, the show is essentially in four acts, each chronicalling her relationships with a different man, all played by Jesse Bush.
I think one's enjoyment of Angle of the Sun will depend on whether one identifies with the characters in each act. Jan herself changes enormously with age, as does her taste in men, so each act is like being introduced again. Myself, I couldn't hate her more at 17, and was worried the show would fall into the growing epidemic (in Garden State and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind) of stories that idolize the batshit crazy woman. But she grew and matured into the next three sections, and by the end it was like spending time with an entirely different character, one whose follies I actually enjoyed watching on stage.
The music by Larry Pressgrove matures, too, from seemingly amateur and dull in the first section to engaging and powerful in the later. Whether or not this is intentional I don't know, but in the interest of being positive I'll assume it is. "Who Could Imagine?" and "A Quest in Someone Else's Life" are great solos for Jan, and the duets are pulled off for the most part with energy and a great sense of scene. I was a little tired of the "Oh god" theme that seemed to run through all of Jan's roles, as it seemed trite and lazy, but it petered off as she aged.
Though Amanda Watkins is more than adequate, it's really Jesse Bush who runs away with this production. As each of the four men in Jan's life, he quite literally disappears into each character, and if I wasn't assured so by the program, I wouldn't have believed them all to be the same actor. Each accent and characterization flawless, even his body type seemed to change depending on the man he was inhabiting. It's flashy without being overt, and subtle but still strong. Someone get this man his Equity card! (Though I'm sure from his list of credits that he could get one if he wanted.) His versatility seems to be without bounds, yet he plays each role with the detail he would were he playing himself.
Though I hope to see better shows than Angle of the Sun at the festival, I'm sure I'll see worse. And as always, I look forward to future work by any one of the talented people involved. So... three and a half stars out of five? That seems to be my default "I liked it but can't wholeheartedly recommend it because I seem to like everything" rating.
________________
Immediately after the show (at the Sage theater, on 7th between 47th and 48th) I walked out to see a mass of pink heading to the Legally Blonde filming. It was pretty frightening, but I had tickets, and wasn't going to waste an opportunity to see a free show. So my friend Chris and I headed into the fray with our balcony tickets and spent hours surrounded by... screaming idiots. The whole experience was pretty miserable, but since I do like the show (and I've gotten over being ashamed to admit it) it wasn't all that bad. "Seriously, does she have three tits?" was changed to "three boobs" for the filming, and the client in Blood in the Water can no longer "get you high and laid"... just laid. I noticed some differences in the lighting, too, specifically during What You Want, and I realize that lighting differences isn't something most people choose to notice. Christian Borle stole one of Noah Weisberg's line readings ("the room just got colder") and Laura Bell Bundy went even more sour than she normally does on that last note of So Much Better. They tried to make Find My Way into a separate song and paused for applause at the end of it... which never came. Awkward.
The musical follows the romantic plights of its protagonist Jan (Amanda Watkins) from her first love at 17 in 1966 to her 1987 art exhibition at 38. Though it's split into two, the show is essentially in four acts, each chronicalling her relationships with a different man, all played by Jesse Bush.
I think one's enjoyment of Angle of the Sun will depend on whether one identifies with the characters in each act. Jan herself changes enormously with age, as does her taste in men, so each act is like being introduced again. Myself, I couldn't hate her more at 17, and was worried the show would fall into the growing epidemic (in Garden State and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind) of stories that idolize the batshit crazy woman. But she grew and matured into the next three sections, and by the end it was like spending time with an entirely different character, one whose follies I actually enjoyed watching on stage.
The music by Larry Pressgrove matures, too, from seemingly amateur and dull in the first section to engaging and powerful in the later. Whether or not this is intentional I don't know, but in the interest of being positive I'll assume it is. "Who Could Imagine?" and "A Quest in Someone Else's Life" are great solos for Jan, and the duets are pulled off for the most part with energy and a great sense of scene. I was a little tired of the "Oh god" theme that seemed to run through all of Jan's roles, as it seemed trite and lazy, but it petered off as she aged.
Though Amanda Watkins is more than adequate, it's really Jesse Bush who runs away with this production. As each of the four men in Jan's life, he quite literally disappears into each character, and if I wasn't assured so by the program, I wouldn't have believed them all to be the same actor. Each accent and characterization flawless, even his body type seemed to change depending on the man he was inhabiting. It's flashy without being overt, and subtle but still strong. Someone get this man his Equity card! (Though I'm sure from his list of credits that he could get one if he wanted.) His versatility seems to be without bounds, yet he plays each role with the detail he would were he playing himself.
Though I hope to see better shows than Angle of the Sun at the festival, I'm sure I'll see worse. And as always, I look forward to future work by any one of the talented people involved. So... three and a half stars out of five? That seems to be my default "I liked it but can't wholeheartedly recommend it because I seem to like everything" rating.
________________
Immediately after the show (at the Sage theater, on 7th between 47th and 48th) I walked out to see a mass of pink heading to the Legally Blonde filming. It was pretty frightening, but I had tickets, and wasn't going to waste an opportunity to see a free show. So my friend Chris and I headed into the fray with our balcony tickets and spent hours surrounded by... screaming idiots. The whole experience was pretty miserable, but since I do like the show (and I've gotten over being ashamed to admit it) it wasn't all that bad. "Seriously, does she have three tits?" was changed to "three boobs" for the filming, and the client in Blood in the Water can no longer "get you high and laid"... just laid. I noticed some differences in the lighting, too, specifically during What You Want, and I realize that lighting differences isn't something most people choose to notice. Christian Borle stole one of Noah Weisberg's line readings ("the room just got colder") and Laura Bell Bundy went even more sour than she normally does on that last note of So Much Better. They tried to make Find My Way into a separate song and paused for applause at the end of it... which never came. Awkward.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
The Boy in the Bathroom, the Girl at the Party.
NYMF kicked off yesterday, with its hundredth show Angle in the Sun, which I'm catching tonight. Instead of resting on the weekend, I saw Jim Daly as Luke in Altar Boyz, Dominic Nolfi as Tommy in Jersey Boys and Becky Gulsvig as Elle in Legally Blonde (thanks BroadwayUnderstudies.com!). It's just what I do.
I saw the premiere of The Boy in the Bathroom last night, offering my ushering services in exchange for a free seat. Nobody hands out a program like I do. The show offers no revelations or deep insights into OCD or the human condition (and its failure may be that it tries to) but it's endlessly charming and engaging enough for its hour and a half runtime. The strength seemed to lie in the book by Michael Lluberes and his glistening characters, but though the songs failed to pop, the show wouldn't have been nearly as magical as a straight play. As a musical, The Boy in the Bathroom could be stunning. I'm just not sure if this is that musical just yet.
Michael Zahler as the titular boy I think makes a bit of a mistake in drawing from his experience on the Spelling Bee tour as Leaf Coneybear - though lines like "Sometimes I think so hard my brain hurts" draw definite comparisons, the sense of innocence and naivete he gave to the character made half the audience gasp when the birthday cake saying "25" came out onto the stage. Sure, the kid's locked himself in a bathroom for over a year, he clearly doesn't have the maturity of most in their mid-twenties. But the character is written with depth that I think didn't quite make it into the portrayal. Still, there's no denying that a Leaf Coneybear character is endearing, and Zahler plays it with such good spirit you can't help but root for him.
The females of the show rise to the task of creating equally sympathetic yet rival characters in the love interest Julie and the mother. As the latter, Mary Stout has the hardest job, creating layers in a character that could so easily be one-dimensional and antagonistic. Ana Nogueira as Julie makes a fantastic NY debut, reminiscent of Billie Piper's Rose Tyler pre-TARDIS. I'm fully aware that you didn't get that reference. I apologize, and direct you to the first season of the new Doctor Who.
There's so much potential in the theme and placement of the songs, and with a few rewrites - that hopefully include some more powerful music and cutting the scene where David turns to the audience and explains OCD like it's side effects to one of those prescription drug ads - this show really has a good chance. Of course, it's about a boy who locked himself in the bathroom, it doesn't exactly scream commerical run. But I enjoyed it with only a few qualifications, and will definitely keep an eye on its future.
After the show, I kind of wanted to stick around and ask Mary Stout if she was actually hit by a hot dog cart (shout out to [title of show], I love you guys!!!) but I ran out to the NYMF opening party at Arena. Defying expectations by being more of a rave than a mingling event, the party was a hit that got me so drunk that I horribly embarrassed myself by telling the Altar Boyz I'd seen the show 15 times. You have to get me pretty darn drunk to make an admission like that. Other semilebrities (as I dub the people that only I and the other musical theater freaks consider celebrities) in attendance were Barrett Foa, Jordan Gelber, Kate Rockwell, Colin Hanlon and Joe Iconis, who I swear I'm not stalking. And they projected the press reels for the Last Starfighter onto the walls, meaning that they're edited and out there online somewhere but not available for your enjoyment. As soon as I find that link, you better believe I'm posting the shit out of it for you guys.
I saw the premiere of The Boy in the Bathroom last night, offering my ushering services in exchange for a free seat. Nobody hands out a program like I do. The show offers no revelations or deep insights into OCD or the human condition (and its failure may be that it tries to) but it's endlessly charming and engaging enough for its hour and a half runtime. The strength seemed to lie in the book by Michael Lluberes and his glistening characters, but though the songs failed to pop, the show wouldn't have been nearly as magical as a straight play. As a musical, The Boy in the Bathroom could be stunning. I'm just not sure if this is that musical just yet.
Michael Zahler as the titular boy I think makes a bit of a mistake in drawing from his experience on the Spelling Bee tour as Leaf Coneybear - though lines like "Sometimes I think so hard my brain hurts" draw definite comparisons, the sense of innocence and naivete he gave to the character made half the audience gasp when the birthday cake saying "25" came out onto the stage. Sure, the kid's locked himself in a bathroom for over a year, he clearly doesn't have the maturity of most in their mid-twenties. But the character is written with depth that I think didn't quite make it into the portrayal. Still, there's no denying that a Leaf Coneybear character is endearing, and Zahler plays it with such good spirit you can't help but root for him.
The females of the show rise to the task of creating equally sympathetic yet rival characters in the love interest Julie and the mother. As the latter, Mary Stout has the hardest job, creating layers in a character that could so easily be one-dimensional and antagonistic. Ana Nogueira as Julie makes a fantastic NY debut, reminiscent of Billie Piper's Rose Tyler pre-TARDIS. I'm fully aware that you didn't get that reference. I apologize, and direct you to the first season of the new Doctor Who.
There's so much potential in the theme and placement of the songs, and with a few rewrites - that hopefully include some more powerful music and cutting the scene where David turns to the audience and explains OCD like it's side effects to one of those prescription drug ads - this show really has a good chance. Of course, it's about a boy who locked himself in the bathroom, it doesn't exactly scream commerical run. But I enjoyed it with only a few qualifications, and will definitely keep an eye on its future.
After the show, I kind of wanted to stick around and ask Mary Stout if she was actually hit by a hot dog cart (shout out to [title of show], I love you guys!!!) but I ran out to the NYMF opening party at Arena. Defying expectations by being more of a rave than a mingling event, the party was a hit that got me so drunk that I horribly embarrassed myself by telling the Altar Boyz I'd seen the show 15 times. You have to get me pretty darn drunk to make an admission like that. Other semilebrities (as I dub the people that only I and the other musical theater freaks consider celebrities) in attendance were Barrett Foa, Jordan Gelber, Kate Rockwell, Colin Hanlon and Joe Iconis, who I swear I'm not stalking. And they projected the press reels for the Last Starfighter onto the walls, meaning that they're edited and out there online somewhere but not available for your enjoyment. As soon as I find that link, you better believe I'm posting the shit out of it for you guys.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
I'm in Love with a Punk Rocker named Joe Iconis.
One would think that while working at various broadway shows, rehearsing for two NYMF shows and gearing up for the start of the festival I would take my Monday night off and sit on the floor staring at the ceiling. But seeing Joe Iconis' Triumphant Baby at the York sounded more appealing, so there I went - I figured it would befit me to expand my knowledge of one of New York's most promising composers before his Ars Nova show Hearken to a Pie Hole on September 24th. (A plug for that event before the show started mentioned that Mary Bond Davis and Lisa Howard would be performing, which I hadn't seen mentioned in any press releases. Could I be more excited?)
It's a strange experience watching a cabaret type show in a proscenium theater. I missed the intimate atmosphere and gentle chatter of the typical cabaret venue, but the quality of the material certainly made up for lack of charm. Iconis' songs in Triumphant Baby span a range of genres and styles - with influences from rock, irish folk, country, german cabaret and musical theater, and yet not one song sounded out of place or forced. Combined with Maddock's witty (if somewhat effortful) lyrics, the songs were able to transcend the cold environment to form a fully realized and entertaining show. A few songs in particular had such a perfect meeting of music and lyrics that it was hard to believe they weren't written by the same person - "Popular Opinion" (featured in Broadway Bullet Volume 124!) in particular is a stunning blend of the two, each supporting the other such that the song itself sounds like a masterpiece but simply quoting the lyrics or humming the tune would do neither justice. Funnily enough, it was the first song the pair wrote together. Other stand-outs of the night were "The Kind That Falls" about a 30s starlet who jumps off the Hollywood sign and the title song "Triumphant Baby."
I'm a little disappointed that my rave can't be quite as unequivocal for leading lady Lorinda Lisitza. She has a charm about her that carried the night, but I was uncomfortable with the neurotic character she affected for most of the songs. I hope to gooddness that it is a character, otherwise I just shoved my foot in my mouth somewhat in the manner of this character from Flight of the Conchords...
If you're considering maybe buying tickets for Hearken to a Pie Hole (or, as it was referred to at Triumphant Baby, "The Iconis and Maddock Variety Hour"), I urge you to visit Mr. Joe Iconis' Music Page and give a listen to a few of the songs. If that doesn't sufficiently convince you, I can't help you.
Who's excited for the Black Suits, to be produced next year by MCC? And apparently he's writing a musical of Jurassic Park? Joe Iconis, you rule!
I swear he didn't pay me to write this entry.
It's a strange experience watching a cabaret type show in a proscenium theater. I missed the intimate atmosphere and gentle chatter of the typical cabaret venue, but the quality of the material certainly made up for lack of charm. Iconis' songs in Triumphant Baby span a range of genres and styles - with influences from rock, irish folk, country, german cabaret and musical theater, and yet not one song sounded out of place or forced. Combined with Maddock's witty (if somewhat effortful) lyrics, the songs were able to transcend the cold environment to form a fully realized and entertaining show. A few songs in particular had such a perfect meeting of music and lyrics that it was hard to believe they weren't written by the same person - "Popular Opinion" (featured in Broadway Bullet Volume 124!) in particular is a stunning blend of the two, each supporting the other such that the song itself sounds like a masterpiece but simply quoting the lyrics or humming the tune would do neither justice. Funnily enough, it was the first song the pair wrote together. Other stand-outs of the night were "The Kind That Falls" about a 30s starlet who jumps off the Hollywood sign and the title song "Triumphant Baby."
I'm a little disappointed that my rave can't be quite as unequivocal for leading lady Lorinda Lisitza. She has a charm about her that carried the night, but I was uncomfortable with the neurotic character she affected for most of the songs. I hope to gooddness that it is a character, otherwise I just shoved my foot in my mouth somewhat in the manner of this character from Flight of the Conchords...
BEN: Your act is sensational!Amazing. I have a feeling the night would almost read better on a CD - good thing they were selling them there!
BRET & JEMAINE: Thank you.
BEN: I love the attention to detail with your stage characters. I mean, the idea of a pair of naive idiots from New Zealand - it's so simple it's genius. You just pick a small backwards country that no one knows anything about? Very funny. Very funny. So where are you guys from? The Juilliard School of the Performing Arts?
JEMAINE: We're from New Zealand.
If you're considering maybe buying tickets for Hearken to a Pie Hole (or, as it was referred to at Triumphant Baby, "The Iconis and Maddock Variety Hour"), I urge you to visit Mr. Joe Iconis' Music Page and give a listen to a few of the songs. If that doesn't sufficiently convince you, I can't help you.
Who's excited for the Black Suits, to be produced next year by MCC? And apparently he's writing a musical of Jurassic Park? Joe Iconis, you rule!
I swear he didn't pay me to write this entry.
Monday, September 10, 2007
A quick intro to The Last Starfighter.
I did it! I spent the morning trying to figure out my crazy schedule for the three weeks of the festival - from the initial list of 27 shows I wanted to see, I was only able to get tickets to 9. But now between ushering, about $80 out of pocket and a variety of friends who are working on shows and can get me tickets that way, the list is actually up to 28. Crisis averted; my schedule will be just as packed as I wanted it to be. I'd imagine that posts in this blog will become unintelligible by the time I get to show 27 and am running on an hour of sleep.
Unlike my fellow bloggers who are hopping from show rehearsal to show rehearsal, I've been blessed with the opportunity to help out on The Last Starfighter and see the whole process. NYMF scheduling is insane - since all of the actors have other jobs and multiple auditions, barely a day goes by without me having to stand in for someone in a group number so we can complete the stage picture. I really enjoyed watching our PSM sing "Can you fix Elaine's antenna, cause she's in her second menopause!?" the other day when standing in for the role of Granny. The cast of 17 has mostly been learning music and choreography so far, and I can't wait until the show gets into state where we can put it all together. We're currently on break, so I'm typing as Jesse JP Johnson shows off his Altar Boyz choreography, Ryan Jesse spreads his excitement for tomorrow's season premiere of The Office, and Nora Blackall and Danny Binstock go over Act 2's big ballad with composer Skip Kennon. There's so much life in this rehearsal hall.
The Last Starfighter is going to be an interesting beast for these performers. We've been rehearsing with a piano so far, but the show will be run with tracks, so currently Skip is trying to set performances to a point where he can start creating tempos and keep character to a song that runs the danger of sounding the same every night. I'm so excited for the show. I feel like the musical climate is littered with irony and self-mocking, but The Last Starfighter is just sincere in its sillyness. I wonder what John will think of it, considering his last blog entry on the necessity of camp in movie adaptations?
Lunch in 10 minutes, at which point I'll deliver the props I bought to The Brain from Planet X rehearsals. For anyone who was wondering, Red Bull cans are incredible fragile - something I bumped against earlier this morning tore right through the side of the can, and all of my receipts? Covered in Red Bull. Lesson learned.
Unlike my fellow bloggers who are hopping from show rehearsal to show rehearsal, I've been blessed with the opportunity to help out on The Last Starfighter and see the whole process. NYMF scheduling is insane - since all of the actors have other jobs and multiple auditions, barely a day goes by without me having to stand in for someone in a group number so we can complete the stage picture. I really enjoyed watching our PSM sing "Can you fix Elaine's antenna, cause she's in her second menopause!?" the other day when standing in for the role of Granny. The cast of 17 has mostly been learning music and choreography so far, and I can't wait until the show gets into state where we can put it all together. We're currently on break, so I'm typing as Jesse JP Johnson shows off his Altar Boyz choreography, Ryan Jesse spreads his excitement for tomorrow's season premiere of The Office, and Nora Blackall and Danny Binstock go over Act 2's big ballad with composer Skip Kennon. There's so much life in this rehearsal hall.
The Last Starfighter is going to be an interesting beast for these performers. We've been rehearsing with a piano so far, but the show will be run with tracks, so currently Skip is trying to set performances to a point where he can start creating tempos and keep character to a song that runs the danger of sounding the same every night. I'm so excited for the show. I feel like the musical climate is littered with irony and self-mocking, but The Last Starfighter is just sincere in its sillyness. I wonder what John will think of it, considering his last blog entry on the necessity of camp in movie adaptations?
Lunch in 10 minutes, at which point I'll deliver the props I bought to The Brain from Planet X rehearsals. For anyone who was wondering, Red Bull cans are incredible fragile - something I bumped against earlier this morning tore right through the side of the can, and all of my receipts? Covered in Red Bull. Lesson learned.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
My name is Karen, I live in NY, I watch live theater and I do absolutely nothing else.
I'm not sure how I got myself into this position, but here I am: in addition to working 10-6 as a Production Assistant on The Last Starfighter, as a Props Shopper for The Brain From Planet X, my normal job of selling merchandise to the lovely patrons of Jersey Boys/Hairspray/Grease and my internship with Broadway Bullet, I will be seeing and reviewing NYMF shows for the blog you are currently reading. Thank goodness for my DVR and the delayed start of the fall TV season - it's going to be a busy September.
As of now, I have plans to see and review a full 27 shows for you all. I couldn't be more excited.
___________________
My lovely roommate suggested last week that we go to the NYMF Preview at the D-Lounge on Monday August 27th, to see the preview for the Yellow Wood, which will star Jason Tam and Caissie Levy (who she's loved since she saw the Hairspray tour in 2005 and whom she saw twice in a row when she performed the role of Elphaba during Julia Murney's vacation in July and who ended up singing later in the evening as part of The Music of Bobby Cronin). It took a bit of cajoling, which normally isn't necessary, as I'm more than willing to take a chance on any show a friend wants to share with me - but I had a fairly nasty cough and cold and had just come off a full day of rehearsal, and didn't feel like sitting though three hours of completely foreign music sung by people I'd never heard of. I guess it's a good thing I'm a pushover, then, because it was one of the most enjoyable nights I've had since arriving in New York three months ago.
The first set consisted of six songs from Going Down Swingin', all of which sounded wonderfully period, but seemed to have little in terms of personal touches and originality. They were gorgeously sung by Reed Prescott and Jillian Louis, the latter of which would be absolute perfect casting should someone decide to make yet another Judy Garland biopic. She has an amazingly expressive voice and attitude, and I mourn the fact that she won't be in the cast of Going Down Swingin' at NYMF. (She will, however, be part of the cast of The Piper, a casting coup that just bumped the show up from its position on my to-see list, previously "I want to see this show because I'm in love with Anna Louizos' set design.") They then continued to showcase other songs by Hilliard and Boresi, including the title song from their show "That's What's Up With Girls" which contained the genius lyrics "True loves last a lifetime, or that's what I used to think. Now I live on poptarts and do my laundry in the sink..." and a tribute in song to everyone's favorite three named cabaret composer, Jason Robert Brown.
The Yellow Wood was a huge surprise to me. From the press releases, my twisted mind imagined this would be a boring musical full of angst about diseases and insanity - I suppose I immediately associated it with The Yellow Wallpaper? But from what I've heard it sounds contemporary, humorous and engaging. Composer Danny Larsen sung two songs from the show, "Normal" and "Tatertot Casserole" - the former was heartfelt but not saccharine and the latter was just the right blend of sillyness and cleverness, reminiscent of Spelling Bee but infinitely less annoying. I'll be seeing both The Yellow Wood and Going Down Swingin' in the NYMF incarnations later in the month, so expect reviews!
We stayed beyond the NYMF preview, since it was all covered by the $10 cover charge (and Caissie hadn't sung yet) to catch the new cabaret act of Mandi Gosling (sister of Ryan, apparently, as he sat right in front of us) and The Music of Bobby Cronin. Cronin's music is among the most promising I've heard from a new composer. Though in most cabarets I tend to enjoy the silliest, most colloquial songs (like Mandi Gosling singing Joe Iconis' "Joe the Punk Rocker"), even his serious and sentimental songs held me rapt to attention. I recommend you listen to the songs on the official myspace for his musical B.R.A.T.S - they're truly great.
Apparently the D-Lounge evening is a monthly event put on by fledgling company the New York Theater Barn, which I'd give my right arm to volunteer for (you hear that, David Rigler? I'll work for free. Call me!). The next event is September 17th - I can't go since that's when NYMF explodes and my minimal free time becomes non-existant. But if you have the chance, you could do a LOT worse with $10.
Alright. End of blog #1. I promise to use less adjectives next time I write. Maybe I should throw away the thesaurus on my desk. I'm just kidding. I don't have a thesaurus. I don't even have a desk. Hell, my fan is propped up on two cardboard boxes. 'Til next time!
As of now, I have plans to see and review a full 27 shows for you all. I couldn't be more excited.
___________________
My lovely roommate suggested last week that we go to the NYMF Preview at the D-Lounge on Monday August 27th, to see the preview for the Yellow Wood, which will star Jason Tam and Caissie Levy (who she's loved since she saw the Hairspray tour in 2005 and whom she saw twice in a row when she performed the role of Elphaba during Julia Murney's vacation in July and who ended up singing later in the evening as part of The Music of Bobby Cronin). It took a bit of cajoling, which normally isn't necessary, as I'm more than willing to take a chance on any show a friend wants to share with me - but I had a fairly nasty cough and cold and had just come off a full day of rehearsal, and didn't feel like sitting though three hours of completely foreign music sung by people I'd never heard of. I guess it's a good thing I'm a pushover, then, because it was one of the most enjoyable nights I've had since arriving in New York three months ago.
The first set consisted of six songs from Going Down Swingin', all of which sounded wonderfully period, but seemed to have little in terms of personal touches and originality. They were gorgeously sung by Reed Prescott and Jillian Louis, the latter of which would be absolute perfect casting should someone decide to make yet another Judy Garland biopic. She has an amazingly expressive voice and attitude, and I mourn the fact that she won't be in the cast of Going Down Swingin' at NYMF. (She will, however, be part of the cast of The Piper, a casting coup that just bumped the show up from its position on my to-see list, previously "I want to see this show because I'm in love with Anna Louizos' set design.") They then continued to showcase other songs by Hilliard and Boresi, including the title song from their show "That's What's Up With Girls" which contained the genius lyrics "True loves last a lifetime, or that's what I used to think. Now I live on poptarts and do my laundry in the sink..." and a tribute in song to everyone's favorite three named cabaret composer, Jason Robert Brown.
The Yellow Wood was a huge surprise to me. From the press releases, my twisted mind imagined this would be a boring musical full of angst about diseases and insanity - I suppose I immediately associated it with The Yellow Wallpaper? But from what I've heard it sounds contemporary, humorous and engaging. Composer Danny Larsen sung two songs from the show, "Normal" and "Tatertot Casserole" - the former was heartfelt but not saccharine and the latter was just the right blend of sillyness and cleverness, reminiscent of Spelling Bee but infinitely less annoying. I'll be seeing both The Yellow Wood and Going Down Swingin' in the NYMF incarnations later in the month, so expect reviews!
We stayed beyond the NYMF preview, since it was all covered by the $10 cover charge (and Caissie hadn't sung yet) to catch the new cabaret act of Mandi Gosling (sister of Ryan, apparently, as he sat right in front of us) and The Music of Bobby Cronin. Cronin's music is among the most promising I've heard from a new composer. Though in most cabarets I tend to enjoy the silliest, most colloquial songs (like Mandi Gosling singing Joe Iconis' "Joe the Punk Rocker"), even his serious and sentimental songs held me rapt to attention. I recommend you listen to the songs on the official myspace for his musical B.R.A.T.S - they're truly great.
Apparently the D-Lounge evening is a monthly event put on by fledgling company the New York Theater Barn, which I'd give my right arm to volunteer for (you hear that, David Rigler? I'll work for free. Call me!). The next event is September 17th - I can't go since that's when NYMF explodes and my minimal free time becomes non-existant. But if you have the chance, you could do a LOT worse with $10.
Alright. End of blog #1. I promise to use less adjectives next time I write. Maybe I should throw away the thesaurus on my desk. I'm just kidding. I don't have a thesaurus. I don't even have a desk. Hell, my fan is propped up on two cardboard boxes. 'Til next time!
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