Broadway Mouth

What, the Tony Nominations Came Out Today????

2011-05-04T20:36:00.002-04:00

When I was teaching eighth grade, the number one rule was that kids couldn’t acknowledge they liked something. No one wanted to step out and be un-cool because he or she liked something that was out of the norm.

My favorite thing about Tony time is when the Broadway celebs are asked how they heard about the nominations.

Honestly, you’ve been nominated for how many Tonys in the past, and you still don’t know when they’re being announced? No one in your show or your agent or your mother or your spouse wished you luck? You actually slept in?

There’s some footage on the disc of Show Business: The Road to Broadway in which stars are asked about their mornings when the Tonys were announced. There’s one multiple-Tony-winning actress who isn’t talented enough to convince me she wasn’t waiting for the nominations.

In honor of the Tonys, I re-post my tweets of Broadway STARS' responses to the question . . . How did you hear about the Tony nominations?

"I was doing a sleep study in the Congo when a tribal shaman burst in to tell me I was nominated. When he said Tonys, I looked for pasta."

"I TOTALLY forgot the Tonys existed. When my agent said I was nominated, I thought I needed a blood test and an image consultant."

"I don't care about the Tony nomination. It's all about art for me. What? They want me for Saw 14 in 3D? Heck-to-the-yeah!"

"I was busy watching Saved By the Bell re-runs when I got a call from my manager. I'm too cool to watch the Tony nominations."

"I knew I'd be asked this question, so I stayed in bed trying to pretend I was asleep so I could honestly say I wasn't watching the nominations."

Congratulations to everyone who was nominated, no matter how much you feign disinterest.

the Broadway Mouth
May 4, 2011

From the Mouth of Leigh Ann Larkin

2010-09-02T14:00:00.003-04:00

I found Andrew Gans' Playbill interview with A Little Night Music's Leigh Ann Larkin to be insightful and inspirational.

Andrew Gans: When did you get to New York?

Leigh Ann Larkin: I got to New York in 2002. I graduated in 2002, and I came here with my bells on thinking, "I'm gonna conquer the world!" And a lot of my classmates were really successful right off the bat and were booking major national tours. I mean, one of my classmates booked a Broadway show within the first six months of being here. And I was just like, "Why can't that be me? I want this so bad." It took me six years before I got a Broadway show, which was Gypsy.

Think about how discouraging that must be--six years is a long time of auditioning and believing in yourself. I've been trying to do something for about ten years now, but in between, I've been working on other projects in my time in my attempt to "make it"--my novel, trying to get into grad school, and so on. She kept at it for six years! Could you imagine if she had given up after five?

Thank you for the encouragement, Leigh Ann. I look forward to seeing you perform while I'm in New York next week!

In the Heights performs "96,000" on Lopez Tonight

2010-07-09T14:10:00.003-04:00

I was so excited to see the tour cast of In the Heights perform on So You Think You Can Dance. I loved that show so much, it was like a mini reunion with some beloved friends. A big "I Miss Your Performance" to Kyle Beltran and Yvette Gonzalez-Nacer.

See you in September, In the Heights!

Here's a video I just found from Lopez Tonight.

the Broadway Mouth
July 9, 2010

I'm Impressed: Laura Bell Bundy

2010-04-24T11:39:00.003-04:00

I hate country music. Let me say that again. I hate country music. I bought a Johnny Cash CD after seeing Walk the Line and never finished listening to it. This, however, impresses me. The music video isn't to my liking (though I love its theatricality), but I have to admit to really liking this song and Ms. Bundy's performance of it.

After seeing the MTV broadcast of Legally Blonde (and listening to the CD about a trillion times), I'm a huge fan of Laura Bell Bundy's talents. She’s versatile and has a powerhouse voice. I hope her country career skyrockets to prove that with a little brains, a little talent, and a boatload of hard work, a Broadway artist can become a star beyond the Broadway stage.

the Broadway Mouth
April 24, 2010

Update

2010-01-14T14:31:00.003-05:00

I forgot my flash drive at home and cannot work on my next query letter over lunch at work, so I'm on for a minute with an update.

Novel
After receiving my rejection last week for the one agent who had requested my manuscript, I was pretty down-hearted. As I tell people who ask me how I'm doing, you expect it (because the odds are so stacked against you), but you can't help but hope for the best.

The good news is, however, that at lunch on Monday, I opened my email to discover . . . TWO manuscript requests, one for a complete and one for a partial. The agent who requested the partial copy of my manuscript (100 pages) thanked me for my creative letter. She wasn't actively looking for more fiction to represent, but she still requested a partial. Let's hope for the best!

Broadway
As I race to find more agents to query (I've sent out 26 queries since September), I'm also trying to figure out life crap, such as whether I will pursue an MBA. My life is getting too complicated, and the older I get (I'm ancient at 32), the less skillful I am at doing everything at once. I really want to curl up with a good novel (I just bought Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, though I have no clue when I'll have time to read it) and spend all my other time dreaming of Broadway.

Let's hope I can get back to blogging regularly soon. I miss having Broadway on the brain!

the Broadway Mouth
January 14, 2010

Carnaval del Barrio: In the Heights

2009-12-09T14:21:00.002-05:00

I have to admit that I wanted to be the first to bring hip hop to Broadway. I own very little of anything that could be called hip hop, but when it’s used as part of a song or with the right rhythms, hip hop can be really awesome stuff. And even though my hopes were crushed, I was so excited when In the Heights opened on Broadway back in 2008. And all this time later, I was still ecstatic to see the show on tour.

And it surpassed all my expectations.

The Cast
Huge kudos go out to the amazing tour cast, lead by the talented and charismatic Kyle Beltran as Usnavi. There are times you leave a tour thinking, “I could not have seen a better cast on Broadway,” and that describes the In the Heights tour. Beltran is joined by the dynamic Rogelio Douglas Jr., who has such depth and richness in his voice, as Benny. Yvette Gonzalez-Nacer couldn’t possibly be a cuter Vanessa, and she imbues the character with a powerful voice and an innocent girl-next-door sweetness. Arielle Jacobs looks like she was made for the role of Nina, singing with power and gentle beauty. Shaun Taylor-Corbett is effortless and hilarious as Sonny, embodying the character so completely you wouldn’t even know he was acting. The impossibly beautiful Isabel Santiago (and fellow BroadwaySpace resident) is hilarious and vocally powerful as Daniela, and she gets to deliver what ranks as one of the funniest lines in all Broadway history, “I heard you and Nina went for a role in the hay!”

For the more mature characters, Elise Santora is a powerfully voiced Abuela Claudia, and Daniel Bolero is a moving and impassioned Kevin. Natalie Toro, recently of A Tale of Two Cities, pulls out all the stops as Camila and makes “Enough” a powerful highlight of the second act.

In short, it is an amazing cast. In an ensemble show, casting is all important, and here, everything is pitch perfect. This was truly a Broadway tour with a Broadway worthy cast.

The Structure
Structurally, the use of music in In the Heights is an interesting mix of classic Broadway and the pop opera genre. In the same way that Les Miserables is largely constructed of stunning solos for Jean Valjean, Javert, Eponine, and Marius, there are a fair number of soul-revealing songs in In the Heights—Nina’s “Breathe,” Kevin’s “Inutil,” Abuela Claudia’s “Paciencia y Fe,” and even Vanessa’s “It Won’t Be Long Now”—that function to reveal character psyche but are not plot-based scenes in themselves (though there is some plot advancement in most of the songs). In other words, they have more in common with “I Dreamed a Dream” than, say, “Serious” or “Put On Your Sunday Clothes.”

Songs are also used as snapshots into moments of life. “No Me Diga” and “Carnaval del Barrio,” for example, don’t have over-arching ideas driving them forward. That is not to say that they aren’t important songs. As an ensemble piece, In the Heights is dependant upon such snapshots to pull us into the lives of these characters.

And of course, there are plenty of traditional style Broadway songs—the opening number, despite its rap and Latino flavor, is all Broadway. “When You’re Home,” “Champagne,” and “When the Sun Goes Down” are all traditional Broadway songs with traditional Broadway purposes.

What can’t get lost in my librettist-perspective analysis is that these are remarkable, exciting songs. And the best of them all—“96,000”—is an old-fashioned Broadway showstopper. In fact, it’s probably the closest thing I’ve seen to one since seeing Carol Channing and waiters singing the title number from the revival Hello, Dolly! in 1994. It’s an exciting, thrilling number, a perfect amalgam of purpose, music, lyrics, choreography, and casting. It had a tremendous effect on me both times I saw it.

And that what In the Heights teaches us, that formula isn’t as important as effect. And there’s no arguing that In the Heights is extraordinarily effective.

The Libretto
Like the classics of the Golden Age, In the Heights is filled with loveable and memorable characters. It shouldn’t be—Sonny, Vanessa, Nina, Benny, Daniela, et al. are not outrageous caricatures, bigger-than-life personae, or historically significant. They are simply, to quote Sesame Street, the people on the street where you live. But they’re so funny, so honest, and sing such great songs, you can’t help but love them all. The next time I get to New York, I feel like I should go to Washington Heights, but without Usnavi and Graffiti Pete, I might be more than just a little disappointed.

Like all great literature (and pieces of musical theatre) that focuses on the life of one particular culture, In the Heights is ultimately universal because of the stories of the characters. What working class man can’t relate to the fear of being inutil, who doesn’t want to rise above his station in life like Benny, and who doesn’t love the home they want to leave behind? I couldn’t tell if I was more Kevin, Usnavi, Benny, or Nina.

In the Heights is a truly great show, one on par with shows like Oklahoma!, Guys and Dolls, and Hairspray. While many recent Broadway shows have been immensely enjoyable—Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, The Wedding Singer, Legally Blonde, Mary Poppins—In the Heights counts as one of the greats. Of course, most of my readers will have already seen it, but I can’t help but celebrate my own discovery.

the Broadway Mouth
December 9, 2009

See footage of Rogelio Douglas Jr. and Arielle Jacobs. The sound isn’t the greatest, but their talent rises above.

This video is really fun and funny. Take the chance to meet tour Usnavi Kyle Beltran.

Where Have All the Broadway Mouth Posts Gone?

2009-11-11T19:35:00.005-05:00

Let me start with an update.

I got my first request for a complete copy of my manuscript.

That's very exciting! As many of my readers know, I have been working on getting a novel published, which is just one of the reasons my blog has not been updated very frequently. I spent a good deal of January--July revising my novel to get it ready for publication, which was a very time-consuming task (it is, after all, 362 pages).

The process for getting a novel published is like any job hunt--it's time-consuming, requires a lot of research, and requires a lot of blood, sweat, tears, and guesswork. You start out by querying agents who might be interested in representing your work. To know whom to query, you find authors whose works are similar to yours, research their agents, then write to the agent. If you're like me, however, you have spent the majority of the past ten years reading classics by Austen and Bronte or reading theatre books. Querying Steven Suskin's agent, of course, will not be very helpful to me, so I've had to do a lot of footwork (and need to continue to do it). Unfortunately, my blog has fallen by the wayside simply because there's only so many hours in the day.

The good news is that I got a request by an agent for a full manuscript. I was incredibly discouraged, so getting this request was huge. The problem is that you send out all these query letters, and when rejections come, you don't know why. Is the letter bad? Is the synopsis weak? Is it just not the right fit for the agent? Are you missing something they want to see in the letter? Or are you an inept writer and is your book just crap? It's a little like embarking on a scavenger hunt without having any clues to guide you.

I've read that agents often get around 300 query letters a week, so there's a lot going against you. How do you stand out without being tacky or pretentious?

This first request is very encouraging, though.

As you can imagine, though, reading books to know whether to query the agents, doing research to find the agents, listening to audio books instead of Broadway cast albums takes a lot of work and has somewhat disconnected me from Broadway. It's a choice I have had to make if I am going to get this novel published!

The other event to disconnect me from my blog was a family member with rheumatoid arthritis. Her health crashed this summer to the point where she could hardly walk, let alone walk the dog, change the dog water, wash dishes, and so on. I spent most of the summer helping her out, and my blog had to be sacrificed.

So . . . Thank you for not giving up on me! My hope is to return to studying and writing about Broadway as soon as I can. I recently saw Little House on the Prairie for a second time, and to be so close to a musical on stage made me feel alive again.

Sherman Brothers Celebration I

2009-10-06T10:00:00.002-04:00

In the wake of seeing the tour of Mary Poppins, I thought I would share favorite songs from three of my favorite Sherman Brothers scores.

“Are We Dancing”

Here we have John Davidson wooing a beautiful young Lesley Ann Warren in Mary Poppins follow-up The Happiest Millionaire. This is a beautiful waltz and a beautiful love song.

“West of the Wide Missouri”

Here we have a song with lyrics disconnected from the events at hand, but look how brilliantly it’s used to develop relationships through choreography. In context, the choreographed banter between lovers John Davidson’s Joe Carder and Lesley Ann Warren’s Alice Bower is a ton of fun. Look for Buddy Ebsen and former Mame Janet Blair (as well as a young Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell). This is from another Mary Poppins follow-up, The One and Only Genuine, Original, Family Band.

“Eglantine”

Here’s the song “Eglantine” from Bedknobs and Broomsticks. It’s not flashy or exciting; it’s just a simple, catchy melody with simple, fitting lyrics that pleasantly gets stuck in my head from time to time.

The Broadway Mouth
October 6, 2009

Almost Practically Perfect

2009-10-03T11:08:00.002-04:00

The Mary Poppins tour is one of the few shows that came through town where a lot of people I know attended. I know people who want to see The Lion King or Wicked and aren’t able to get tickets, but here, they had the magic blending of the desire to pay the money to see the show and the availability of seats for it to happen. And the one thing each of these people who saw it had in common was that they all loved it.

I was one of them.

Of all the Disney stage shows that originated as movies, Mary Poppins is the first show to feel authentic to the stage, not dependant upon gimmicks (the video projections of Tarzan), awkward visuals (Timon and the waterfall in The Lion King), or incongruities (a teapot the size of Beth Fowler in Beauty and the Beast). Thankfully, the creators don’t attempt to replicate all the special effects of the movie—let’s hope Disney continues down this route.

And that is the strength of Mary Poppins. I had already heard that the movie differed from the original books—and the movie is fantastic—but it seems right for the stage show to return to those roots, particularly if the movie cannot be replicated. On stage, the characters are deeper, more human. The Banks family of the original movie is a Disney creation of the era, the Banks family of the stage is rooted more firmly in real life.

The biggest strength of the production—the biggest strength of any production—is that cast. God bless Disney and Cameron Mackintosh for sending Ashley Brown and Gavin Lee out on tour! They spear-headed a marvelous group of actors.

Ashley Brown imbues Mary Poppins with humor and a sauciness that differs from the Julie Andrews interpretation, which is more than fitting since stage Mary is written more than just a little differently from movie Mary. My favorite moment of the whole show is when Ashley Brown tells Mr. Banks that she doesn’t explain anything with a flirty wink that leaves him speechless.

Gavin Lee is a great Bert filled with charisma and stage presence. Other highlights of the cast include Ellen Harvey as a delectable and hilarious Miss Andrew who stops the show twice with crazy vibrato. Megan Osterhaus also shines as a prettily voiced but uncertain Mrs. Banks. The two children—Aida Neitenbach and Christopher Flaim—were wonderful.

Upon reflection, the weakest link in the show—which I am, by far, not the first one to acknowledge—are the new songs by George Stiles and Anthony Drewe. Within the show, they are very fitting and appropriate. The songs do what they should, and in that respect, they are delightful. At the same time, the Sherman Brothers have a knack with melding melody with clever and melodic lyrics that Stiles and Drewe don’t have. The Original London Cast recording, for example, doesn’t withstand multiple hearings in the same way many other recent scores do—Legally Blonde, The Drowsy Chaperone, or The Wedding Singer, for example. The best songs in the show are undoubtedly the ones that remain un-rewritten from the movie (and “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious”). Stiles and Drewe do a nice job of zapping the spark from “Jolly Holliday” and “Step in Time,” though it was important that they alter the songs to fit their new purpose.

The other weak link in the show is the choreography by Matthew Bourne and Stephen Mear. “Step in Time” is wonderful, and the spelling in “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” is a good, but songs like “Jolly Holliday” never excite (wouldn’t it be fun to think of what Susan Stroman or Kathleen Marshall might have done with them?).

The sets and costumes are by Bob Crowley, who always does such beautiful work.

In a separate note, I think it’s important to acknowledge that Mary Poppins seems to be part of the increasing trend over the past few years to get lazy on hiding the backstage. Though I paid full price, I saw several performers standing in the wings waiting for their entrance, saw a stage hand behind one of the sets during one scene, saw Mary grabbing the kite and waiting for her big entrance in Act 2, and in getting Bert ready for his specialty in “Step in Time,” the stage hands were all but on stage preparing him. Perhaps some of the Disney magic needs a little help from smoke and mirrors to mask the backstage.

Those criticisms aside, Mary Poppins is a delightful show, tons of fun, and left an audience thrilled and moved.

The Broadway Mouth
October 3, 2009

Fantasia as Miss Celie

2009-08-17T20:49:00.001-04:00

Here's sweetie Fantasia talking about her time as Celie (with footage from The Color Purple):

Broadway Mathematician Style

2009-07-30T14:05:00.001-04:00

It was a surefire hit. Dolly Parton. Allison Janney. Joe Mantello. An adaptation of a well-known movie. It even had a music video for one of the songs.

Oh, wait. I got that wrong. It should be: Elton John. Anne Rice. A title everyone would know.

Shoot! I got it wrong again. Boublil and Schonberg. Irish dance. Irish culture. The producers of Riverdance. Big sets.

Okay, maybe I mean them all. And Phil Collins. And an adaptation of a beloved Disney movie. And Jason Robert Brown. A unique show concept. The music of the Beach Boys. Johnny Cash. Elvis. Christina Applegate. Adaptation of a John Waters movie. A unique cast of four.

The list goes on and on and on. And looking at the list of titles—9 to 5, Lestat, The Pirate Queen, Tarzan, 13, Good Vibrations, Ring of Fire, All Shook Up, Sweet Charity, Cry-Baby, and Glory Days—one thing is clear. Broadway is not a place for cookie-cutter anything. In Hollywood, producers rip things off all the time. If Transformers is a big hit, tap into another popular 80s toy and make G.I. Joe. If The Wedding Crashers is a hit, make Knocked Up and a host of other “adult, R-rated movies.” If Beauty and the Beast is a hit, make Thumbelina, The Swan Princess, and Anastasia. But Hollywood can get away with it; they produce a great deal more movies than plays or musicals ever appear on Broadway. Statistically, they have a better chance of making money off bad ideas.

If a producer is looking for a surefire hit, the only guarantee is to find a show that is truly entertaining (and even that isn’t a guarantee). If Dolly Parton, Allison Janney, and the name 9 to 5 can’t be a hit on genetics alone, then no show can. Each of those flops—and no doubt they were passion projects for some producer—didn’t work, even though they all fit the mould of some other success. You can just see investors (and maybe producers) thinking Cry-Baby would be the next Hairspray, that Good Vibrations and cousins would be the next Mamma Mia, that no one would miss out on Hollywood starlet Christina Applegate in a revival of Sweet Charity.

So, if I was a producer, I would clear away my concerns about a musical being marketable, worries about finding a star name who won’t screw things up too much, trying to find a recognizable title, or trying to find that unique, stand-out-from the crowd Purple Cow concept. Find something that’s strong and make it stronger. Make it entertaining.

To paraphrase Alan Jay Lerner—In the end, all anyone cares about is if it’s good.

the Broadway Mouth
July 30, 2009

Like, Totally Baby Einstein: Broadway Edition

2009-07-23T13:38:00.001-04:00

My 3 ½ year-old niece gets carsick. As evidence, she’s gotten sick in my car twice. Recently, I was driving her about two hours from home to a family wedding party. She slept for the first hour, but when she woke up, it was a race against time. My dad and I tried our best to distract her, but when she put her hand up to her mouth, it was a sure sign it was time to stop the car. Three times.

I had a CD of Disney songs in the car, and in an effort to distract her from her pains so we could actually get to the party, I put on her favorite, “Part of Your World” from the movie The Little Mermaid. And when the next song would start, she’s say, “I wanna hear Mermaid again.” I love “Part of Your World” and am, as my dad calls me, the overkill king, but by the end of the trip, even I was a little tired of it.

The next week, I was babysitting my niece on a night when I had a birthday party to go to on a farm about an hour away.

Gulp. I really wanted to walk away that night still loving “Part of Your World.”

I put in my Legally Blonde OBCR. Let me tell you, Legally Blonde soothes the savage stomach. On the way there, she immediately latched onto “Omigod You Guys.” It started with Bruiser barking. She loved barking along with the dog, but after three listens, I could hear her singing along to parts of the song. I skipped ahead to another up-tempo gem, “What You Want,” and because of the repetitive title phrase, even then, she was singing along until she fell asleep.

After the party—a night filled with piglets, goats, a gazillion dogs, and fireworks—we were in the car, ready to head home. She was tired. When she gets tired, she starts to mumble, so I knew she’d be out cold for the ride home. Still, I asked her, “Should we turn on some music?”

She mumbled softly from the backseat, “Bzosmd bdhof “Omigod” dmfn ajdhd.”

And she sang along until she fell asleep. Oh my God, you guys.

the Broadway Mouth
July 23, 2009

From the Mouth of Betty Buckley: A Progress Report

2009-07-14T13:58:00.001-04:00

There’s a story Betty Buckley tells in the bonus features of Rick McKay’s documentary Broadway: The Golden Age that is also told in Myrna Katz Frommer and Harvey Frommer’s oral history It Happened on Broadway. In the story, Buckley is auditioning for Cats (after having been in Hollywood for the television series Eight is Enough), and during a callback, director Trevor Nunn asks her to sing “Memory” three times, directing her to make her character more and more suicidal until Buckley states that her “insides were out.” She finally pulls Nunn aside and informs him, “There are a few women who could do this role as well as I can, but nobody can do it better. And it’s my turn.”

In telling her story in It Happened on Broadway, however, she includes the detail that:

I was in my early thirties, and you know when you’re in your early thirties, you think your life is over.

I’m 32. It feels like my life is over. It’s awkward to be aspiring to anything other than a wife, four kids, and a 401K at the age of 32. I was aspiring to be a published and produced writer in my 20s, and by 32, I was to have arrived, to have had my “this is my now” moment.

Instead, I’m at the state where I’m supposed to throw in the towel, to pat myself on the back for a good effort, and to have moved on. But I can’t. I want to want to, but I can’t.

And that brings me to my novel.

As my readers are aware, I revived older columns for several months while I focused on revising a novel I had originally written five years ago in my evenings when I was substitute teaching. And I’m happy to report that things are progressing well. Between January and May, I read all 356 pages of my novel three times and made revisions ranging from minute word changes to overhauling characters.

I thought I was done and ready to start courting agents, but I decided to ask a few people to read it first (which is not to say that no one had read it prior). So far, one friend has read it since, and I’m now on Revision #4, incorporating her observations.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I’m working on writing a smasheroo query letter, which is the magic key to getting an agent to read your work. I’m learning from my past mistakes by taking it slow and steady. When I have time, I’m also researching agents and the publishing industry to make sure I’m targeting my novel perfectly and doing things the right way.

Yet, I can’t help but remember that I’ve been on this journey before. It’s so disheartening to fall in love with a project and characters, only to see them come to nothing. Yes, some of those projects in the past, looking back, were prematurely born, and some of them simply miscarried because there was no one there to read them and, because of my lack of connections, there was no avenue to do anything with them. But I still can’t help but look back fondly and wish those characters could someday come to life to someone other than me.

I recently picked up the OBCR to A Class Act and talk about disheartening. Was there anyone as dedicated as Ed Kleban? I mean, that man wrote and wrote and wrote. He also had the connections—after all, he had a mega-hit on Broadway once. Actor Lonny Price’s desperation as Kleban in the “Light on My Feet” reprise is heart-wrenching. It’s heart-wrenching because I know what it’s like to work so hard but to always fall so short.

I have a friend who always reminds me that “The ones who succeed are the ones who fail the most.”

I recently saw the steroids documentary Bigger, Stronger, Faster, and two stories in there particularly spoke to me. One was of a 50-something body builder living in his van in order to have time to lift weights, to reach the glory of being able to lift more than anyone else. It makes him happy. Living in a van to face constant discontent in a lifetime of extending but never reaching makes him happy. Another story was the director’s brother, a man in his mid-thirties with a wife who couldn’t stop chasing his dream of becoming a professional wrestler, still holding onto the dream in the face of multiple rejections. I looked at him and thought, “You’re too old. Move on to something else.” But to him, it was within his grasp.

The ones who succeed are the ones who fail the most. But I can’t help but wonder if there are millions of people out there who try the most but still fail, people who we just never hear about because eating pavement doesn’t make for a great A&E Biography.

But Betty Buckley gives us hope! She interprets that:

After all those years of paying dues and learning and dedication, it was my turn. Eight is Enough had built my muscles, helped make me so strong, so fierce in my commitment. Without the training of Eight is Enough and without studying voice for thirteen years, I wouldn’t have had the strength to undertake the pressure presented by Cats . . . I was now thirty-five years old; it had taken me twenty-two years to develop into the artist I had known I would become.

But this novel is the last stop on this journey for me, the last stop before taking another route. I must make it as good as I possibly can, then pursue publication unrelentingly. I have grown as a writer and creator—all these failed experiments (namely another unpublished novel, two musicals without music, two sitcom pilots, a television drama pilot, an unfinished movie script, several television spec scripts) have prepared me to write this project at a level I was incapable of reaching two years ago.

But I need to start making some money with my energy. I am reaching my breaking point of being the struggling artist, the intensely frustrating life of working very hard on my writing, counting my pennies and hoping for success, daily regretting extraordinarily bad choices from my youth (deciding to become a teacher, realizing I had gone severely into debt for a degree doing a job I didn’t want, among others—wait for the memoir). I spent my twenties working like a dog as a teacher, just making ends meet. Now I’m working a reasonable number of hours at work and writing a lot in my off time. Now it’s time for me to see some fruit for my labor.

So what is the other route?—pursuing my MBA. I really want my MFA from USC in film production, but unless I win the lottery (or play the lottery, for that matter), that’s not going to happen. I have no desire to get an MBA just to leave my wonderful current job to pursue a position in a soul-sucking, money-hungry corporation. Instead, I would use the knowledge I would gain from an MBA as an entrée into the creative world (possibly producing an independent film). I figure that I seem to excel at pretty much everything I try (within my personality limitations, of course) as long as I have mentorship and training, so I have a fair chance of making it. If anyone has any insights from their experiences, I’d love to know!

But first, back to the novel.

the Broadway Mouth
July 14, 2009

Dog Eat Dog: Crappy Backpack with Souvenir Program

2009-06-30T13:43:00.000-04:00

I’m a 32 year old straight man. What the heck do I want with a cheap vinyl/plastic/whatever backpack with Legally Blonde: The Musical written on it? Honestly. What am I supposed to do with it? Tell me. I’m at a loss. I was halfway forced into paying $10 for it, so I at least want to know what I can do with it.

Even if I did want a Legally Blonde: The Musical backpack, what the heck would it hold—tissue paper? I think trying to carry two thick books and a cell phone would be too much stress on the “fabric” of this backpack.

I thought it was preposterous when Disney forced you to shell out $20 to buy a Tarzan souvenir program with a paperish Tarzan tote bag. But at least Disney had the class to make the souvenir program something special—extra thick with beautiful studio photographs of the actors. Even if the show wasn’t too hot, the program was at least worth $15 of the $20 you had to pay.

If you were not aware, the latest trend seems to be—on the road at least—to force anyone who wants to buy a souvenir program to pay $20 to get a program (the same ones that were formerly $10) AND a stupid logo backpack. Make that, a stupid and worthless logo backpack.

I always get the programs because I am a Broadway nut and want to remember the experience. I love looking back on my collection of programs from The Music Man, Aida, Les Miserables and remembering the evening I had. At the same time, when you’ve just dished out $80 for a Broadway tour, you have to be conscious of the price of things. I can’t believe that the average Broadway tour attendee who typically buys a program is going to be dedicated enough to pay extra to get the backpack. Face it, of the thousands of people who pack a touring house every stop, how many of them are really going to walk around with a Legally Blonde: The Musical backpack?

If producers really think people want these backpacks, then they should sell them separately for $10. Until that happens, I think we need to acknowledge what they really are—pieces of crap lobbed onto a popular souvenir item to gouge the audience member even more.

Shame on you, producers (namely Legally Blonde: The Musical and A Chorus Line) for gouging your audience members. I hope it bites you in the butt.

the Broadway Mouth
June 30, 2009

Casualty of Love: A Chorus Line

2009-06-22T13:59:00.000-04:00

I one time counseled someone in a Broadway chat room not to write off Hello, Dolly! after they had seen a community theatre production of it and thought it was only okay. Hello, Dolly! with Carol Channing was my first big Broadway show (on tour), and I can’t imagine anyone seeing the show for the first time with such talent and not loving it. It’s such an amazing show and a model of musical theatre perfection.

I wouldn’t myself understand the power of community theatre to destroy a perfectly good musical had I not experienced it on a few occasions. The first time I experienced The Music Man was in a so-so production where the director fixed Meredith Willson’s original book by removing “Rock Island.” In this production, Harold Hill was old enough to be Marian Paroo’s father.

When I saw the thrilling 2000 revival of The Music Man starring Craig Bierko and Rebecca Luker, I got the message loud and clear. Any Broadway masterpiece can become a casualty of love in the world of community theatre (which, in my findings, tends to be far weaker than high school theatre).

A Chrous Line is a particularly difficult show to do unprofessionally. You have to have triple threats, and you can’t easily rely on a bunch of clumsy hockey moms to carry you through, like you can with The Pajama Game or Annie. A show that communicates so much with dance simply must have people who can actually dance (not to mention a choreographer up to the challenge of creating impressive steps).

It also doesn’t help that the libretto of A Chorus Line is fragile in areas. I probably wouldn’t have noticed this except I witnessed a community theatre production in which A Chorus Line became a casualty of love. Without skillful directing, the plotless nature of the show becomes a burden on the audience, with the “What will you do when you can’t dance” section collapsing under the weight of its own annexation, feeling more like a Michael Bennett soap box than an extension of the narrative. Furthermore, without careful direction, the conceit of the show gets off to a rough start as actors struggle to make establishing dialogue function as subtext-rich, naturalistic dialogue.

Plus, it doesn’t help when the Cassie really can’t act.

The true test of A Chorus Line came when the Broadway tour came into town. But more on that next time.

After my first trip to Broadway in 2000, I remember sitting in the audience of the Parade tour, talking with a woman who was planning a trip to New York. She was asking me what I liked, and I was telling her about Kiss Me, Kate. “Oh,” she said dismissively, “I’ve seen that.”

Now, I might have the guts to say, “Yes, you’ve seen a production, but I don’t think you’ve really seen Kiss Me, Kate.”

the Broadway Mouth
June 22, 2009

Broadway Cast Recordings, Soundtracks, or Audio Books?

2009-06-10T13:50:00.006-04:00

Before embarking on a three-day drive to California several years ago, a friend said, "And you're bringing some audio books?"

"No."

"You don't get audio books?" she said with astonishment. "I always get them when I drive."

Then it occurred to me. In a way, I do listen to audio books. But we don't call them audio books. We call them Original Broadway Cast Recordings (not soundtracks). It works the same. You pop it in, then follow the plot through the songs. Better than an audio book, you don't get tired after one listening because, well, it's music. Music is much more repeatable than a traditional audio book.

This works particularly well with contemporary recordings. Older recordings tend to cut out all dialogue, so you're only getting songs. Contemporary recordings, however, include introductory dialogue as needed to give songs context. There may be a need to read some liner notes to get clarification, but overall, it makes for a very entertaining listen!

Some of my favorite Broadway Audio Books, shows I first discovered on album:

Triumph of Love: I love following the twists and turns on the recording, which is almost the complete show.
Jane Eyre: This is a great score to get lost in, and it's easy to follow the plot on the album.
Dreamgirls (Concert Cast): This is pretty much the whole show in concert.
Marie Christine: I still have vivid memories of the first time I followed this story on disc; it was riveting.
Bernarda Alba: Not exactly an uplifting show, but it makes for an intriguing listen.
Ragtime: So much music is there, you can easily follow what's happening in the plot.
Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street: Because the recordings are two discs, you can easily following all the horrific details of the plot.
Dirty Rotten Scoundrels: Okay, so I first saw this one on Broadway, but the album is a delightful document of the twists and turns of the plot.

the Broadway Mouth
June 10, 2009

Legally Blonde: Omigod, That Music! (Part 2)

2009-06-07T13:00:00.000-04:00

While I don’t think there is anything revolutionary about how music is used in Legally Blonde, I’ve learned immensely from the show through repeated viewings of the MTV broadcast and the Original Broadway Cast Recording. As mentioned in my last column, there are some perfectly placed songs in the score, courtesy of songwriters Laurence O’Keefe and Nell Benjamin (plus, no doubt, bookwriter Heather Hach and director Jerry Mitchell), but it is how several songs inform scenes and sentiments that is also impressive.

Song/Scene Structure
One of my great weaknesses as a librettist is song placement. I’ve been aware of this for years, and the few knowledgeable people who’ve read my libretti have readily pointed this out. Of course, this happens because I don’t have musical collaborators, so my writing team—being me—is sorely lacking in balance.

I’ve been in a position for most of my life to need to teach myself many things, from tying my shoelaces (long story) to using symbols in fiction. I never took a class on writing musicals; I’ve just avidly studied the form for over a decade and learned the hard way. Watching Legally Blonde a number of times now (once on stage, multiple times from the MTV broadcast), has illustrated why writers need access to libretti of well-written Broadway musicals to study. Legally Blonde has provided me with another level of understanding of how music can be used in a musical (not that this will necessarily do me any good until I start working in the same room as collaborators, but still, it’s valuable).

You see many musicals with very effective song/scene structures where a song takes the place of what otherwise would be dialogue (and you see this in Legally Blonde as well). Lilli is left longing for Fred and sings “So in Love” to express it in Kiss Me, Kate. Glinda is torn between trying to earn rank with the Wizard and trying not to betray her friendship with Elphaba, so she masks it with “Thank Goodness” in Wicked. Tracy finally gets Edna out of the house and introduces her to a whole new world in “Welcome to the 60’s” in Hairspray.

There are several songs in Legally Blonde, however, that really highlight other ways of using songs (not that there is anything wrong with using songs in the ways described above—Kiss Me, Kate; Hairspray; and Wicked are all masterpieces).

“What You Want”Lyrically, “What You Want” is pretty straightforward (which is fitting because Elle, at the point, is a pretty straightforward woman). What I love about it, though, is how it encompasses (and compacts) a number of key events—events that need to happen in order for the plot to move forward and to develop Elle as a determined, intelligent, and resourceful flaky chick. The setting spans Elle’s sorority house, a golf course, her room, and Harvard admissions. We are not just told about events happening, but because of the scope of the song, we see it all happening in a compact song (with great choreography). The fact that these are short scenes doesn’t matter; the song connects them into one longer segment that unifies the disjointed nature of her quest.

“Chip On My Shoulder”
Packed with character development and interspersed with important dialogue scenes, “Chip On My Shoulder” is another song that beautifully compacts scenes into a cohesive single number. Look at the span of this song—Emmett mocks Elle after the party, follows her to her room where he goads her into studying, spends large portions of his time over several months to help her, and then Elle actually starts to show promise in class. “Chip On My Shoulder” not only develops the plot, it also establishes Emmett’s character, Emmett’s and Elle’s relationship, and Elle’s friendship with Paulette. This is sixty pages of a novel condensed into one delightful song.

“Take It Like a Man”
As addressed in an earlier column, “Take It Like a Man” is a strong example of a subtext-laden song. Stephen Sondheim has talked about how “Finishing the Hat” in Sunday in the Park with George isn’t about the hat; it’s about the obsessive nature of George’s art (and art in general). “Take It Like a Man” is the populist version of the subtext-laden song. There are funny references to love and subtext in the song, but lyrically, it’s about Elle shopping for Emmett. Under the surface, though, it’s about this beautiful friendship that has blossomed into love. It’s a very romantic and well-written scene.

There are a lot of great moments musically in Legally Blonde, but as an aspiring-to-be-produced librettist, I can’t help but admire the show and its creators for their perfect song placement, their use of songs to compact the storytelling, and for their populist use of subtext in a satisfying way. Plus, it’s just really fun music.

the Broadway Mouth
June 7, 2009

Legally Blonde: Omigod, That Music! (Part 1)

2009-06-06T13:39:00.000-04:00

As I mentioned in a previous column, the Legally Blonde Original Broadway Cast Recording is probably destined to be one of my most-played new Broadway scores. The biggest reason for that is there are tons of really fun songs—“Omigod You Guys,” “Whipped Into Shape,” “Bend and Snap,” and many others. In addition to the infectious music and lyrics, however, there are two other reasons to love this score.

Perfect Placement
First of all, I think it’s important to comment on the perfect placement of songs in Legally Blonde. Songwriters Laurence O’Keefe and Nell Benjamin (as well as bookwriter Heather Hach) really use the songs in Legally Blonde to highlight important points, not just to advance the story or to establish character. Yes, songs like “Serious” and “Bend and Snap” are not only well-placed but are also typically placed for musicals. What I’m referring to, however, are songs that establish plot points or character emotions that later have payoff.

For example, how perfect is “The Harvard Variations”? Before Enid is even finished, the audience is thinking, “Holy cow, is Elle out of her league here.” Beforehand, we have an inkling that Elle is going to be in trouble at Harvard, but because of “The Harvard Variations,” we are painfully aware that she is way in over her head, particularly when Aaron, Padamadan, and Enid begin to reprise their verses.

“So Much Better” is perfectly placed as well. In order for “Legally Blonde” to work in Act II, we need to understand how important getting the internship is for Elle. Part of the song is dogging on Warner for undervaluing her, but the overarching idea is that earning her spot in the internship is so much better than having Warner, that she “is so much better than before,” “before” being the Elle that opened the show in “Omigod You Guys” and “Serious.” When Callahan fires her, it stings because being a successful lawyer is her new Warner, because of what is established in “So Much Better.”

“Find My Way” is a simple but very important number. I don’t know if the movie has a moment like it, but it’s important for Elle to have a scene to acknowledge her growth, to complete the journey that started with “What You Want,” changed direction with “So Much Better,” is finalized in “Legally Blonde,” and is resolved in “Find My Way.” This is Elle’s chance to acknowledge her growth, to admit that she was “living in ignorant bliss” but that there is “still so much to learn.” How she states it is also an acknowledgement of her growth—she’s no longer dogging on Warner, verbally spitting in his face. Instead, she admits, essentially, that he was right when he dumped her and that his dumping of her was a time for growth. She has even grown to the point that she declines his proposal with kindness. It’s not just the sentiment that’s important, but it’s also how Elle says it is crucial to her development.

the Broadway Mouth
June 6, 2009

Legally Blonde: Omigod, That Libretto!

2009-06-03T21:11:00.002-04:00

Legally Blonde librettist Heather Hach has an almost annoying history. She was accepted into the Walt Disney Screenwriting Fellowship, parlayed that (courtesy of some sweat and talent, I’m sure) into nabbing the task of writing the Freaky Friday remake (which has the very rare distinction of matching the original movie in charm and humor), and somehow got the drool-worthy task of writing the libretto to a Broadway show.

Talk about stunt casting. Where’s her time at BMI? Her long history of longing to create the next Guys and Dolls? Her years of studying the art form? Her Stephen Sondheim CD collection? Does she even know the difference between Ethel Merman and Ethel Waters?

While I wouldn’t call Legally Blonde the next Hello, Dolly!, I would call it an immensely enjoyable show and a job well done for Hach. And you know what, a few droolers like me can even learn a few things from her work (as well as that of songwriters Laurence O’Keefe and Nell Benjamin).

The Romance
Hach herself has acknowledged that she pumped up the romantic quotient of the show. In the movie, Elle and Emmett fall in love perfunctorily. That is, they join together at the end of the movie because, as a romantic comedy, that’s what’s supposed to happen. Here, Emmett is not only a major character, his and Elle’s relationship is developed gradually and believable throughout the story. They do not set out to be in love—Emmett mocks Elle even though he is helping her. Elle drools over Warner, even into “So Much Better.” Yet, by the time they are abandoned in the prison, they have clearly spent much time together and are clearly good friends. They are so close, in fact, that Emmett’s pressuring Elle to give up Brooke’s alibi despite her promise is a sign of his stress. It’s a betrayal of his friendship with her; Elle’s surprise at it is our surprise.

Because of this relationship, “Take It Like a Man” is a truly romantic song. It’s such a beautiful moment (sold so beautifully on tour by Becky Gulsvig and D.B. Bonds). The song references love as a subtext for humor, but the characters are never singing about being in love. In it, Emmett is acknowledging that he is realizing his feelings for Elle; however, Elle’s actions only read love; she never expresses it directly (nor do I think she realizes it).

I love the lines in the song where Emmett says, “It’s just me,” and Elle responds, “That’s the best part / The inside is old / The outside is new / Now it reflects what’s already in you / Couldn’t change that if I wanted to. / And I do not.” It’s touching, and it’s romantic. I hope I someday get to be involved in a show with a moment like “Take It Like a Man.”

The Character Development
The romance in the musical works because of the changes Hach (and probably Laura Bell Bundy and Becky Gulsvig) makes to the character Elle Woods. In the movie, Elle is still pretty clueless by the end. She wins the trial only because of her knowledge about hair care, not because of her skills as a lawyer. The viewer never totally buys into the fact that Elle could have won the trial if the false testimony had been about baseball, reading Jane Austen, or power tools.

Hach, O’Keefe, and Benjamin are careful to create an intelligent Elle from the start. She’s has “a high IQ,” a 4.0 average (not an easy thing in any major, even if it is fashion merchandising), and the scholastic ability to get a 175 on the LSATs. Broadway Elle is just simply focused on Warner, fashion, and partying. Intelligent but focused on ditzy things. It’s not that she can’t read the law book and comprehend; it’s just that she doesn’t get that she’s supposed to.

As she studies and grows from her experiences at Harvard, Elle’s intelligent side takes over. Whereas Movie Elle maintains her ditzy air throughout the movie, Broadway Elle is never really ditzy, just mis-focused. By Act II, you not only believe that an intelligent, hard-working guy like Emmett could fall for Elle Woods but also that she could pull off winning the trial, even if the deciding evidence hadn’t been hair care. In an odd turn of events, Movie Elle is more cartoon-like, and Broadway Elle is more human.

Beauteous Moments
Throughout Legally Blonde, there are some really nice character moments. My favorite is probably the scene in the prison where the legal team is trying to follow Callahan’s instructions to “speak MTV” to get Brooke’s alibi. Each character responds exactly how they should—there’s clueless Emmett trying to pass off “anywho” as a relatable and hip word, Warner and Vivienne trying to reason with her without their brains (or their hearts), and Enid trying way too hard to be cool. Elle, being the intelligent one of the mix, is purposeful in earning Brooke’s trust and nabs the alibi. The ensuing scene, when Emmett tries to pressure Elle into giving up the information, is also beautifully handled, with Elle calling him on the real reason why he wants her to betray Brooke’s trust. It’s one of those moments where you watch and wish, wish you had the chance and the ability to write it.

the Broadway Mouth
June 3, 2009

Legally Blonde: Reflections on the Tour

2009-06-02T13:38:00.003-04:00

Like, prior to seeing the tour of Legally Blonde, my experiences with the show were totally limited to the original movie (which I think I last saw in the theater), seeing “Omigod You Guys” on You Tube from the MTV airing, a portion of “What You Want” that aired on The Today Show, and three songs I allowed myself to listen to off the album (after seeing the tour, I got a copy of the MTV airing).

I was so psyched to see it. There has been, like, so little of anything exciting that has been touring that I hadn’t seen on my last trip to New York, and having heard a few of the songs, I was totally pumped when I got tickets.

And overall, the show was so cool. A few observations:

Observation 1: Dude, Be Careful What You Pare Down
Omigod you guys, the tour totally gets off to a rocky start. As most people know, the tour nixed the Delta Nu house which totally rocked “Omigod You Guys” in the Broadway production. The opening of those doors so totally added energy to create an exciting open number, and because of the MTV airing, like, everyone knows it.

Without that house set, the staging relies on choreography, which—not to be rude—is not the show’s strongest suit. In place of a fun, energetic set piece with clever staging, tour audiences are presented with the sisters signing a card on a table placed on an empty stage (with the sky backdrop), followed by some pretty dopey choreography that looked so completely pulled from a high school stage. Instead of the stairs, which provided some interesting levels on Broadway, Elle’s room door was off to the side of the stage. I can’t help but feel that for the thousands of audience members out there who came to the tour because of the MTV airing, this staging was, like, a major letdown. Letting down your audience is not a strong way to start a show! Wouldn’t it have been, like, so much better to have cut something else?

Interestingly, the staging had some weak moments, though now that I’ve seen the MTV airing, I see that what made those moments weak were the set changes required by the tour and how director Jerry Mitchell handled them. For example, when Elle walks into the party in her bunny costume, I don’t recall the tour having the door set piece, so that Elle walks halfway onto the stage before stopping with the realization that she’s dressed so not cool (or before anyone sees her). Cutting corners when the audience can tell is so not cool.

Similarly, when Callahan kisses Elle, on tour, Vivienne and Warner see it through the door. Because they just show up there in this crammed space, and the following action (Vivienne pushing Warner away but seeing Elle slap Callahan) happens so quickly, it’s just awkward.

Observation 2: Performers are the Best Spectacle of All
Snaps! The performers were totally able to recover fro the weak start. Becky Gulsvig as Elle gives the character a Kristin Chenoweth spin, imbuing her a squeaky voice, and while Laura Bell Bundy injected some pop power, Gulsvig’s voice is more traditional musical theatre. And though she lacks the stage presence/energy to be as dynamic as a Broadway show's star should be, she’s a very good (and cute) Elle. D.B. Bonds as Emmett was so awesome. He has a strong, appealing voice and imbued Emmett with charm. Jeff McLean, another great singer, was totally strong as Warner. Natalie Joy Johnson, who played Enid on Broadway, was total fun as Paulette (and honestly looked like a Paulette should, more than traditional hottie Orfeh), and Ven Daniels was way fun in his multitude of roles, most notably as Kyle.

I was psyched to see Kate Rockwell (one of the finalists on Grease: You’re the One That I Want) as Serena. Ken Land and Gretchen Burghart also deserve a mention because they gave strong performances as Professor Callahan and Enid. The big bummer of the night was that Coleen Sexton (who rocked as Lucy in Jekyll and Hyde on Broadway) was out for the night, and since there was no paper insert, I don’t even know who I saw as Brooke.

Observation 3: That Music
Omigod, the music in Legally Blonde so rocks! I can already tell the OBCR will totally rate up there with Hairspray, Wicked, and The Wedding Singer as one of my most-listened to new scores. It totally balances the fun, pop sound (which is really Broadway masked as pop) with some cool, serious stuff. Duh, it doesn’t get much funner than “Omigod You Guys,” “What You Want,” “Positive,” “Whipped Into Shape,” and those other fun songs, but then there’s those awesome serious songs like “Chip On My Shoulder,” “Take It Like a Man,” and “Legally Blonde.” The title song is so beautifully written—a really moving song so fitting to the characters. Plus, you then get a strong character song like “Blood in the Water,” which, like, so fits Callahan.

And I just have to say, “There! Right There!” was simply one of the funniest things I’ve seen on stage in a long, long time. I was howling with laughter—it was the perfect combination of scene, character, and situation, all with a real world application that made it ten times funnier. Very clever.

Observation 4: The Comparative Experience
I was so surprised, though, because as much as I enjoyed the show, I didn’t leave Legally Blonde pumped like I did after The Wedding Singer on Broadway (though my seats were farther back for Legally Blonde; I think I paid orchestra prices for mezzanine seats), which was such a hilarious, energetic, heart-warming show. Not that both shows didn’t completely deserve to run; I’m just surprised Legally Blonde was a bigger hit.

Best of all, however, was—shut up!—Legally Blonde feels entirely authentic to the stage—there’s nothing about it that feels forced fit to the stage (or even ill-fitted). I left The Wedding Singer and Dirty Rotten Scoundrels feeling like parts of it were a movie on stage, but I didn’t get that with Legally Blonde.

So, while the tour was not, like, a perfect representation of the show, it still totally rocked. I’m so glad I have the MTV airing now so that I can revisit it whenever I want (and to share with others too).

the Broadway Mouth
June 2, 2009

Welcome to Legally Blonde Week!

2009-06-01T13:28:00.002-04:00

To kick off Legally Blonde week, I share with you footage from the national tour. Look for more coverage of the show all this week!

And the Award for Most Amazing Person in New York Goes to . . .

2009-05-27T20:48:00.004-04:00

Ken Davenport, producer of Blithe Spirit, Altar Boyz, 13, and a number of other Broadway and Off-Broadway shows.

What makes Davenport amazing? It's not because he held a Broadway blogger social. It's not because he divulges his theatrical heart five days a week in his Producer's Perspective blog. Nor is it because he helped bring a new Jason Robert Brown score to the stage. Though these are all awe-inducing achievements, Davenport is amazing because he has done the daring and unthinkable.

He's accepting play submissions.

Let's take a mome (to quote movie Millie Dillmount) to contemplate this.

In the Broadway/Hollywood industry, people on any level of power carefully erect monumental walls to control the flow of ideas reaching them. In theory, only the best ideas from the smartest people make it over the wall.

In other words, it's who you know. It is not easy to make it over those walls, and only the best of ideas (like Life on a Stick, Brooklyn: The Musical, and Gigli) get through.

What makes this so daring is that there are many, many people like me--aspiring-to-be-produced writers who so passionately want to make it. The problem is, we have an inflated sense of our own talent.

(Potentially Mediocre Talent + Open Access) x Everyone Out There = A Lot of Work

I never fully understood why the barriers were erected until I found myself in a career where I sort through resumes. You get a whole heck of a lot of junk in order to find a useful morsel. Change out a one-page resume and insert a 150-page movie script or a 90-page musical, and someone's assistant is getting overtime.

But the hope is in that phrase--useful morsel. Someone doesn't have to be well-connected to be talented or to have a well-executed idea. Literary agents accept unsolicited query letters all the time, which is how many talented writers get a start in writing fiction and non-fiction. Now, playwrights have the same opportunity.

Just as exciting is the offer you see by scrolling down on the page. For a $49 fee, you can get an analysis of your script. Gasp! That's better than any deal at Wal-Mart.

While this doesn't help me now (no music for my musicals has always been a problem), what hope it brings! Someone needs to submit an amazing idea now so this fluke can become a trend. Remind everyone that you don't need to know the right person to be talented.

the Broadway Mouth
May 27, 2009

Show Me!: That Bad Boy, Narration

2009-05-21T13:59:00.002-04:00

I recently saw Grey Gardens for the first time, and its use of narration (or maybe a better term would be a character addressing the audience) for half the story had me intrigued. Here are some reflections on the choice below:

Narrator: Cody tried everyone he knew. Nobody believed him. He realized that he would have to face his transformation alone. Being alone in your time of need is a terrible feeling, and Cody felt it.

The first play I ever wrote was for my high school creative writing class. In it, I used a narrator to act as glue between the parts of the story, dispensing such nuggets of wisdom as the one above. Yes, it was an intentional line of dialogue, but unnecessary nonetheless. In fact, when I taught creative writing, I saw how easily my students would use narration as crutch in playwriting and finally got to the point where I wouldn’t let them use it.

The use of narration in writing a play is a tricky thing. Sometimes, it’s unavoidable. Stage adaptations of long narratives tend to require narration to condense a 300+ page novel into a two-hour play, though it is a fine line. The first time I learned this was in watching a production of Great Expectations as adapted by Barbara Fields. The production had so much narration that I began to feel like I was having a bedtime story read to me rather than experiencing a compelling production of a great plot. There’s something wrong when the narrator tells you that Pip ran away while you are watching Pip run away.

A great example of the use of narration in a musical is Jane Eyre. In the novel, Jane tells her own story, and she does so in a way that opens up her own emotions to the audience, at times addressing them, such as in the famous, “Reader, I married him” line. The musical adaptation required the narration to help convey the breadth of the storytelling—stretching through Jane’s childhood at Gateshead, her time at Lowood School, her life at Thornfield, her return to Gateshead, her sojourn to Moor House, and her final return to Thornfield. Never is Jane required to spend great lengths addressing the audience, and when there is need for telling of events, the chorus is employed in a way that creates mood and atmosphere, communicating ideas without simply throwing them at the audience.

An example of when narration is superfluous is in the Broadway version of Jekyll and Hyde, where the narration that opens Act I and Act II could be entirely removed without affecting the plot. It was an interesting choice, considering the opening of each act in a musical is considered to be a place to grab the audience’s attention and pull them in, but the use of narration starts things out didn’t work in this case.

In reading the libretto of Big River, the weakness of the show appears to be the extensive use of narration. I’ve never seen Big River in production (a local high school was set to do it, but the school board nixed the idea), but it has entire paragraphs of Huck talking to the audience about what he’s done or is going to do. It reads as if you don’t actually see much happening. Instead, the story is being summarized and the audience is given vignettes to flesh out the most important points. The result is a show with great music holding together a weak book (Though, to be fair, adapting The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn to the stage would be no easy task. As they say, there but for God, go I . . .)

The danger of narration is resorting to verbalizing a story rather than dramatizing it. One of the writer’s adages is “Show, Don’t Tell.” If the narration acts as a transition into the Show, sometimes it’s needed. But the story is being told to you—particularly when it could easily be shown to you—that’s when it gets to be too much.

the Broadway Mouth
Originally posted May 10, 2008

An Ode to New York City

2009-05-16T12:00:00.000-04:00

Lately I've been having dreams of New York City, reliving the thrill of being in the city of my dreams. My second musical is a ode, of sorts, to the New York I know, the New York of the tourist, the New York depicted below.

I was too excited and couldn’t sleep. Honestly, it was a double-whammy. In the summer of 2006, not only had I planned a trip to New York in a matter of two days, but I was going there to interview for a big job.

Those commercials from the early 80s, the “I Love New York” ads couldn’t say it any better. I love New York. My first trip was in the summer of 2000. I originally had a couple friends who had talked about joining me, but when they fell through, I was determined to do it—my first real vacation ever and the farthest I’d ever been from home—and I never once regretted going it alone.

I did a lot of great things that trip—saw the Statue of Liberty, rode the Cyclone and the Wonder Wheel, traipsed through the Bronx Zoo, saw a half-decayed rat carcass by the side of the road in the Bronx, sat next to a drunken man on the subway drinking liquor from a bag. It was all so exciting.

The most exciting of all, though, were the shows. Riding in the Super Shuttle from La Guardia, I drove past all those glorious marquees—Annie Get Your Gun; Jesus Christ Superstar; Miss Saigon; Kiss Me, Kate; Aida . . . At home, when we get the big touring shows, the show’s title is simply spelled out on the marquee in standard letters. How I loved seeing the pictures of the stars plastered all over the theatre doors, big billboards in Times Square, the mark of live theatre everywhere.

The shows I saw that trip: Jekyll and Hyde; Kiss Me, Kate; Aida; Miss Saigon; and The Music Man. I stage-doored for my first time, thrilled to meet Barrie Ingham, Marin Mazzie, Brian Stokes Mitchell, Heather Headley, Rebeca Luker, and a ton of other performers, all of whom where mega-stars in my mind (and still are).

My second trip followed in June 2001. I had planned to head to New York again later that summer—by myself, though never lonely—but when word came that Jane Eyre was finally closing for real, I knew I had to take my chance to see it when I could. In about three days, I planned my trip to New York. My last day of school was Friday; I got my grades done, arrived home late that night to pack, and was flying out on an early morning plane. The shows that trip: Bells are Ringing, Jane Eyre, The Phantom of the Opera, 42nd Street, Follies, and The Music Man (in which I somehow managed to get the exact same seat as before—second row, center orchestra, far right seat).

In 2006, though, things were even more exciting. I hadn’t been to New York in five long, long years. In my attempts to find a new career and/or to free myself up for writing the next great American musical, I had quit two teaching jobs and taken one that was only for one year, not exactly the career path that allows for great vacations.

But this time, it was all coming together. The word came from a nanny agency that they had an interview for me, so in two days, I planned the whole trip. Trying to sleep the night before my trip was a gargantuan task in itself. The very next day, I would be flying into New York City, the best place in the world, and not only would I be in New York and get to see shows, I would be interviewing for the job that would change my life and get me closer to really cool places like the Theatre District, the BMI Workshop, and NYU. I probably slept for almost two hours that night.

I arrived in New York as tired as I was excited, but in taking the Super Shuttle through the city, those marquees and billboards were like caffeine concentrate. Who needs sleep in New York City?

Just getting out and walking those streets, being within the aroma of Broadway . . . What else could I possibly want more? Certainly not sleep!

First show that night—with my discount code in hand—The Wedding Singer. I almost cried during “It’s Your Wedding Day.” It was so beautiful—the choreography, the song, the actors, the energy, the location. As I applauded fiercely, I told myself I couldn’t do that, be away for so long. Now a little older, I chickened out on stage-dooring, but like a powerful electro-magnet, I couldn’t entirely stay away from the Al Hirschfeld stage door, watching quietly as Stephen Lynch, Tina Maddigan, Amy Spanger, Kevin Cahoon, and others exited, visiting with fans. I did work up the nerve to speak to Amy Spanger as she stood quietly outside the barricade, to tell her how amazing I thought she was, how I had missed her in Kiss Me, Kate but had heard her a billion times on the recording and how talented I thought she was because here she was doing another amazing job playing an entirely different character. It was with great reluctance that I left the stage door, leaving all the fun for the kids with their cameras.

I don’t remember what I did after the show. I probably stopped at a deli and picked up some fresh fruit or maybe at a bakery for something chocolate and gooey, then walked around a little . . . The Virgin Megastore was probably a stop. When I returned to my hotel room, now quite late, I could hardly fall asleep. I had an interview with the agency in the morning, but I couldn’t bring myself to close my eyes on the city. I just lied in bed, thinking over and over, “I can’t believe I’m in New York. I can’t believe I’m in New York!”

The next morning I awoke to my alarm bright and early for my interview with the nanny agency. I’m one of those guys who really needs his 8 ½ hours of sleep, minimum (though I rarely get it), but I half-cheerily stumbled my way into the bathroom, gazing at my face in the mirror.

My eyes were bloodshot like Bobby Brown on a Wednesday. Except I wasn’t doing crack. I was going to be interviewing for a job working with children. Bloodshot eyes from severe sleep deprivation . . . And this from a guy who’s never even had a drink of alcohol.

Quickly I dialed my sister. “Kris, my eyes. I’ve hardly slept the past two days, and they’re completely bloodshot. I have that interview and—!”

“Here’s what you do.” How calm she is in times of panic. “Go to the drugstore. There’s a product called Clear Eyes in the pharmacy section, probably next to the contact solution . . .”

Well, thank God not everyone in my family has never had a drink of alcohol.

So the agency liked me, liked my “impressive resume,” sent me on the interview, I did well, and was far on the road to getting the job. But I don’t know . . . There was just something about the job . . . I mean, as great as nannying Rosemary’s babies for eighty hours a week sounded, it seemed like the educated former teacher getting offered the first job he tried out for could maybe get something a little less all-consuming, less unpleasant. Sure, with my sole Mondays off I could see The Phantom of the Opera four times a month, maybe five when the calendar fell right . . .

Alas, I didn’t take the job.

Alas, I got another high-profile interview.

Alas, they didn’t hire me because of my lack of in-home experience. So much for the “impressive resume.”

The shows I saw that trip: The Wedding Singer, Tarzan, The Drowsy Chaperone, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, Hairspray, and The Color Purple.

My 2006 trip was also marked by sightseeing. Sightseeing for me, in addition to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, was primarily walking around Manhattan. Will I ever get enough of it, walking downtown, midtown, uptown, across the town, through Central Park, into the theatre gift shops, through music stores and book stores, into pizza places, past Sutton Foster? Oh, and how great are those buildings, those beautiful old buildings that remind you of all those classic movies with Maureen O’Hara or Claudette Colbert in those cool 40s hairstyles, slapping the faces of their leading men or throwing witty quips their way.

Not that all my New York memories are as classy. Let’s jump back to my first night in New York City, July 31, 2000. It’s Monday, and I’m having fun experiencing the city for the first time after having arrived around suppertime, getting the hang of how the streets are connected in relation to the Gershwin, my hotel. As I’m walking past the streets numbered in the 60s, I’m finally taking notice that the sky is getting kinda dark. It’s getting dark. It’s getting dark in New York City, and I’m God only knows how far from my hotel, not entirely sure how to get back, and I’m probably going to get mugged or killed or worse because this is New York City and isn’t that the sort of thing that happens late in New York City to gullible Midwesterners even if they do look intimidating themselves. Let’s see now, I’m thinking, my hotel is off Fifth, and I’m on 67th, that’s like a million blocks, but I have to go back the way I got here, which means crossing to Times Square like I did before so I can follow the billboards I used as a marker.

So, I’m walking fast back to my hotel, keeping business-like, trying to blend in with all the other to-be mugging victims around me. I don’t stop for souvenirs. I don’t stop for pizza. I’m just marching back as fast as my size 14s will get me there. As I’m walking, though, I see stillness among the moving bodies. I glance over. Oh look, there’s a nice woman leaning against the pay phones. She’s smiling at me. Yeah, okay, I’m in New York and everything but, you know, does it mean I have to totally act like a New Yorker, and maybe she’ll even think I’m a big racist goon if I don’t respond and . . . And I smiled back, stiffly, but still a smile.

Her smile grew. “Hey Honey,” she said with a sparkle and a New Yawk accent, “got a quate’?”

I don’t think I ever walked so long a distance in such a short time. A few more experiences like that, and I would have qualified for the speed-walking Olympic team.

Where else could you run from a streetwalker and see a Broadway show all in the same day? Where else can you walk past Chuck Wagner while he’s in the city for Kiss Me, Kate tour rehearsals? Where else can you walk past a guy proclaiming, “I’m not afraid to admit it. She gave me crabs.” Where else can you see Christopher Sieber at a Ranch 1? Where else can a theatre person go and not feel out-of-place? Where else do you get energy just by stepping onto a street and seeing masses of people?

I love New York, the city of dreams.

the Broadway Mouth
January 12, 2008

On my second trip to NYC, I was still waiting at the stage door. Here's Marc Kudish, uber-talented actor from Bells are Ringing, and my shoulder. I really loved that show.

August: New York 2000--Only in New York can you see Rent, Saturday Night Fever, and Beauty and the Beast all on the same cow.

Casting Quandaries: The Most Difficult Role to Cast

2009-05-14T18:10:00.002-04:00

Here we have a 3 for 1 special:

Annie
Casting a play is a little like Christmas as a kid. Growing up, we’d always get the Christmas catalogue from JCPenney and Sears, then page through it, dreaming of all the wonderful toys within our grasp. Casting is the same way. Just replace the toys with talented actors, and you get the picture.

I made a big snafu my first time casting. I was being very practical about it, and after auditions, I knew who I wanted to be my Dolly Levi and Horace Vandergelder. So I didn’t add them to my call back list. It seemed pointless.

There was no greater disappointment than when my two very talented leads saw the callback list. I also have a feeling there was no greater joy then when my two very talented leads saw the final casting notice.

As I write my musicals, I’ll admit to having fun contemplating what beloved Broadway stars might get cast on the day my shows hit the Great White Way. It is, granted, a long shot, but, as the Andrew Sisters would say, I can dream, can’t I?

Casting isn’t always easy, though. I would imagine that in casting big productions of classic shows, you’re always fighting the expectations of the audience (perhaps from prior actors or, worse yet, film versions) while trying to find the actor who will best bring to life a character in a unique but faithful interpretation.

My theory is that one of the most difficult roles to cast in musical theatre has to be Annie. Yes, the plucky little orphan. Because of this, it doesn’t surprise me that the casting problem that plagued the original Broadway production reared its ugly ahead during the last revival. As detailed in the book It Happened on Broadway, the original creators cast a very talented girl in the lead, but they realized that Annie needed to be a tough kid. Out went saccharine Annie, and in came chorus girl Andrea McArdle. In the most recent Broadway revival, the understudy Peggy Sawyered her way to the top as well.

Because of “Tomorrow,” we associate Annie with chipper, cheerful-til-you-puke, pluckiness. As a result, the temptation is to cast the biggest voice or the most expressive kid in the part, which is why so many community theatres get it wrong. There are shades of Annie’s personality that can’t be painted in bright red colors. The song “Tomorrow” is so effective because it is expressed from a place of deep pain. It can’t be oversimplified and be effective, and the one-note chipper Annie simply can’t do justice to the song.

Charlie Brown
As Alice says in Alice in Wonderland:

“If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?”

That about sums up the casting for a couple of musicals. The more apparent one is probably Sally Bowles in Cabaret. She’s not supposed to be a spectacular performer, yet people pay big bucks to see someone who can sing. I believe it was Ken Mendelbaum who identified Susan Egan as the best Sally of the last revival because she was able to perfectly balance those two facets of the character.

Like Annie in “Casting Quandaries I,” there’s another role that’s mysteriously difficult to cast. It’s hard for me to fully comment because I don’t think I’ve seen the definitive production of the show (though I have seen several strong productions). When it comes to Charlie Brown in You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown, the temptation seems to be to take the kid you want to cast because he’s so nice and give him the role. After all, it is good old Chuck; how much stage presence do you need?

I love my Broadway revival cast recording of You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown with Anthony Rapp in the title role, a production I never got to see. It’s interesting to hear it because, though the character is . . . well, Charlie Brown . . . Rapp is still giving an endearing, strongly sung, and theatrical performance. He found a way to bring to life a wallflower, a failure, and a self-defeating character without sacrificing stage presence, warmth, and humor.

It seems to me that the best casting of Charlie Brown would be in finding one of your strongest character performers, then casting him in that role. The show is, after all, named for Charlie Brown. He shouldn’t be the least memorable character in the show (just as he was never the least memorable character in the cartoon specials).

Maria
The casting of The Sound of Music became infinitely more challenging when Julie Andrews stepped into the role of Maria for the film. It’s interesting to ponder that Mary Martin was cast in the role in the original Broadway production after playing parts like Peter Pan and Annie Oakley. Those aren’t roles you would ever imagine Julie Andrews taking on.

Since the movie, what stage production will ever be able to live down the memory of Julie Andrews in one of the most beloved movies ever made? In the last revival, Rebecca Luker and Laura Benanti were consecutively cast as everyone’s favorite postulant, casting choices that followed the film’s lead (and both are tremendously talented women). But look at the choice—you could never imagine casting either Luker or Benanti as Peter Pan or Annie Oakley.

Casting a movie can be a very different exercise from casting a stage production. Often the integrity of the role is sacrificed for celebrity by casting someone who can’t sing too well, can’t sing the role the way it was written, or is too old for the part. Casting Julie Andrews as Maria was inspired, though it fits a film’s style more than it would probably fit a stage production (particularly in the way that The Sound of Music was reconceived for film). What the film captures in a close-up with Andrews may have been difficult for the stage to have successful communicated. I never saw Mary Martin on stage, but my understanding is that her performances were full of pluck, energy, and charm. I have a feeling her Maria didn’t abandon those traits (and the show was written to play to those strengths as well).

Yet, stage productions of The Sound of Music are always caught chasing after the beauty and charm of Julie Andrews, rather than going for someone with the plucky cow-town charms of a Mary Martin.

It’s interesting to compare this to the casting of Millie Dillmount in Thoroughly Modern Millie. The original Broadway Millie was going to be Erin Dilly, a very talented and versatile actress in the Julie Andrews vein (who played Millie in the original movie), but the show’s creators realized that they needed something different. It seems to me that their final choice—Sutton Foster—has more in common with Mary Martin than she would ever have with Julie Andrews. But then again, the needs of casting for the stage are something altogether different.

So, if I were to cast a stage production of The Sound of Music, I think it would be interesting to expand my horizons in casting Maria. A great role is open to many different interpretations, but I would love to see what a Sutton Foster type would do with the role . . . if I could only escape the movie.

the Broadway Mouth
Originally posted May 3, 2008, May 1, 2008, and April 30, 2008

Networking: I Hate It. I Need It.

2009-05-12T17:59:00.002-04:00

It's been a year since I originally wrote this, and I'm still not great at networking. I'm just now getting the hang of not shutting down when someone wants me to describe a project I'm working on. Some of us are more comfortable at self-promotion then others. We all grow at different stages, right?

In the arts, networking is everything. You can be the next Richard Rodgers, but if you don’t know how to network, you’ll never get anywhere. Just check out producer Ken Davenport’s recommendation on getting your work to a producer—get it into the hands of someone who will act as a go-between. Even submit to NYMF, you have to know the right person.

That’s one of the reasons why getting into this business is a challenge, to say the least. The reality is that if my dad had been Steve Martin’s mailman, I would have a much easier time breaking through than I have had. It’s just the nature of the business.

The bummer is that I hate networking. I love people, but I hate imposing on them or putting myself in a position to feel like I am using them. Real networking isn’t using people, but it can become a fine line, particularly if you’ve run across any power networkers in your past.

In my attempts at networking, I have learned much, and as social networking sites like BroadwaySpace.com continue to grow, it’s important to learn a few things about the art of networking.

A few rules I share:

1. Networking is a mutual act. It is not “helping me.” The best piece of networking advice I have ever received is to look at it as helping others. Do what you can to help others because it’s the right thing to do, and when the time comes, they will reciprocate the action.

Several years ago, I spent some time in Los Angeles to scout out the Hollywood scene. While there, I traded business cards with a number of really kind people who were excited to meet me. However, when I emailed them with an idea or to maintain contact, I never got a response. Why? Because they gave me their card so that if I got a show produced, I could call them with a job. That’s using people, not networking.

There was one woman—a propmaster—with whom I did maintain some contact, and she even went as far as to invite me to an industry Halloween party. When my times comes—and come it will if I have to create a project for myself—guess whose card I still have in my wallet.

This means that if you expect people to read your work and comment on it, then you must be willing to read and comment on theirs. Don’t send your MySpace friends a big update about your career and ask for support if you never respond to their calls. If you have a concert, a reading, or a gig, don’t expect anyone to show up if you don’t support them. You haven’t earned it.

2. Cut off the dead weight. If you do find yourself attempting to befriend someone who is clearly using you, delete them from your friends list, don’t respond to their emails, and don’t go out of your way for them. Use your time wisely.

I have cut once-close friends out of my life because I got tired of them never responding to my invitations, never being able to attend my performances without so much as a response to an email, only to then receive minute-by-minute invites to their projects, multiple mailings to raise funds for their causes, and so on.

Everyone is busy, and we have to understand that, but if you really mattered to that person, they wouldn’t treat you like a footnote. Cut them off.

3. It’s all about the work. Talk is cheap, and in the world of the arts, very easy. A great networker is going to get nowhere if he or she doesn’t have work to prove themselves. No one cares about the plans you’re making; they only want to see the result.

To quote myself in my second musical:

There are two kinds of dreamers—those who talk about what they’re going to do and those who do it. It’s in your hands now.

4. Online networking doesn’t replace face-to-face communication. You could literally spend ten hours a day networking online, but what you really need to be doing is getting yourself in a position to meet and work with people.

Online networking is very difficult because the proof is in the pudding, to use a cliché. You might chat with some of the kindest, greatest, nicest people, but in the end, it’s ability that makes the cut, not friendships. Singers and songwriters can post music online, but the rest of us need to get ourselves in a position to have our work read or seen. Nothing will ever replace that.

This is not to say that online networking isn’t valuable. I’ve met some great people online. The Internet is too young to accurately gauge its success in matching people to projects, and perhaps in ten years, we’ll be seeing a string of shows that have grown from online friendships. But don’t neglect the face-to-face kind!

5. Respond. I once tried being part of a Yahoo group called Musical Makers. I was shocked at the lack of professionalism from the people in the group. I would get emails from people wanting to collaborate, and if I knew our styles were not compatible (or if I didn’t care for their work), I gave a speedy reply that was both respectful and personable. If someone reaches out to contact me for that, that’s the least I can offer.

This pansy, no-response thing, I don’t get it. I have had people interested in working with me (actors and songwriters) who just drop off the face of the earth without so much as an email. That’s what you do in tenth grade when the “special” girl in class keeps hitting on you; that’s not how you react as a professional, creative adult (particularly when you initiate the contact). In some ways, for me, it was good when that happens because then you don’t waste time on that person. But if you’re not in the game to play, then go back to the minor leagues.

I once had someone contact me for collaboration, to which I responded promptly with some information. Not only did the songwriter not respond, but he put me on his email list for updates about his career. Yeah, thanks for the spam.

6. Remember the Ten Minute rule. At one point, Idina Menzel was ten minutes away from never being a wedding singer again.

the Broadway Mouth
originally posted April 17, 2008

From the Mouth of Mary Martin: On the Writing and Selecting of Roles

2009-05-07T12:00:00.000-04:00

In her autobiography My Heart Belongs, Mary Martin writes:

A fine libretto, wonderful music, a role full of vitality can make milestones in the careers of entirely different personalities in the theater. Annie [Oakley] was one of those roles. It was one of Ethel Merman’s unforgettable ones; it gave Delores [Gray] her first big break; it afforded me many of my happiest hours onstage.

And that brings up one more thing I have learned: beware of any role which somebody says is "written especially for you." If the role isn’t written so well, so strongly, that any professional can play it, don’t get involved. That, too, is what theater is all about.

Some examples:

Mama Rose: Ethel Merman, Angela Lansbury, Tyne Daly, Bernadette Peters, Patti LuPone (not to mention the many great regional Roses)

Dolly Levi: Carol Channing, Ethel Merman, Mary Martin, Pearl Bailey, Ginger Rogers, Martha Raye (and that’s the short list)

Charity Hope Valentine: Gwen Verdon, Shirley MacLaine, Debbie Allen, Donna McKechnie, Charlotte d’Amboise, Christina Applegate

Perhaps Martin’s statement rings true because the basis of any production of a show that is either new or used is interpretation. The interpretation is derived from the libretto, which means that a great role can survive many different interpretations, provided they are rooted in the text and supported by the playwright’s intentions. If someone is writing a show for a specific personality, that means that they could be using that actor’s natural charisma, acting style, or personality as a crutch, to cover any gaps in characterization.

As you can imagine, I’m always casting shows as I write them, organizing my dream cast as I go along; however, it’s equally delighting to think of the many different actors who could also play the part. I feel like I’ve done my job if I can imagine people with different appearances, voices, or personas taking on the roles.

the Broadway Mouth
April 2, 2008

I'll Forget You

2009-05-05T12:00:00.000-04:00

I just saw the Legally Blonde tour (more on that when I'm back into the swing of things) and was thrilled to to see three familiar names in the cast--Coleen Sexton (who I knew was the cast, though I ended up seeing her understudy), Natalie Joy Johnson (from the NET Godspell tour, though I saw her understudy in Godspell), and Kate Rockwell. No, I don't forget easily, I guess.

Nancy Opel in Making It On Broadway:

I had a baby and I left the business for two years. I literally had to move away. I knew that if I didn’t, I would stay in this business. The lure is too strong. I was warned by some people, “If you stay away too long, they will forget who you are.”
Damn it, that’s right. They do forget, and I don’t care. I did the right thing for my family. Do I have regrets about the things I may have missed? Not really. A scrapbook isn’t the same as a healthy, well-adjusted child.

It’s interesting to watch the trends in Broadway casting; people do get quickly forgotten. Watch how new people are quickly cast from one show into another. One minute, they are nobody, and the next, they are in the latest hit show. While the people who did that a mere five years ago are nowhere to be seen.

Take, for example, Tyler Maynard, who was able to move from Altar Boyz into The Little Mermaid. Tony Yazbeck got Gypsy after A Chorus Line, just as Mara Davi got The Drowsy Chaperone.

Everyone gets their breaks in their own ways, and I’m thrilled for anyone who can make a go of acting on Broadway because each role in earned with much blood, sweat, and tears. I’m not saying that Maynard, Yabeck, and Davi haven’t earned their roles—I’m not implying that at all.

But, as Nancy Opel mentions, I wonder of the great talents who have been forgotten along the way. It’s so easy to focus on the big talents who have deservedly managed to get from one show to the next because they are wowing us right now, but as we reflect on who we’d love to see in roles, let’s not forget that there’s a truckload of major talents who are, from reports, still in the business. It’s not atypical for people to enter into the profession of starring on Broadway, only to then tire of it, crave the stability of family, or to choose other avenues for their talents. However, just because we don’t see them doesn’t mean they are not out there, trying to get seen.

The hot tickets of not-too-long ago, I can’t just forget them. I choose not to forget them. I don’t know what reason we haven’t seen them on stage, but it wouldn’t be surprising to know that they simply haven’t been able to get seen.

Let’s all take a moment and remember all the fantastic performers from the past fifteen years who are still out there—the Matt Bogarts, Sandra Allens, Chuck Wagners, Maya Days’—pounding the pavement, trying to a nice man like a Ziegfeld or a Weismann to get them into a great, big Broadway show.

I’ll not forget you.

the Broadway Mouth
Originally Posted March 31, 2008

Ten Minutes Ago

2009-05-03T13:00:00.000-04:00

Ten minutes ago I saw you
I looked up when you came through the door
My head started reeling
You gave me the feeling
The room had no ceiling or floor
--Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella

Ten minutes ago she was a secretary. Ten minutes ago she was a wedding singer. Ten minutes ago she was scooping poop. Ten minutes ago he was fired from TCBY. But now, they are Ethel Merman, Idina Menzel, Laura Benanti, and songwriter Jeff Marx.

Never underestimate people of talent and ambition, even if that ambition seems far-fetched or muted by shyness. That man waiting your table before you head off to Cry-Baby really could be a Broadway star next year. That kid promoting his songs on BroadwaySpace could write the next Hairspray. That girl with the funny voice who keeps calling you about attending her reading could write the next Les Miserables.

Sure, there are a lot of folks out there knocking on doors who really aren’t the best dancers, aren’t that great with their monologue, and maybe don’t even write strong lyrics. But, some day, if you open your eyes, you’ll find someone who really is the undiscovered Heather Headley or Marc Shaiman.

Idina Menzel has my favorite story, told in Making It on Broadway. She was a wedding singer, one of the same that gets pushed to the back of the brain because she sings “while people chew.” Worst of all, the bandleader of her band once had the sound guy turn her mic down so his girlfriend would be louder. Some time after that, she starred in Rent, Lippa’s The Wild Party, Aida, Wicked, See What I Wanna See, and now people are paying $20 a pop to buy Enchanted, where she became the Disney princess and $15 to hear her new solo album.

But it’s no Cinderella story. It takes a lot of hard work, a lot of determination, a lot of faith in yourself to become something. But the truth is that Idina Menzel was always Idina Menzel, and starring in Rent didn’t change that. If she had never gotten the Rent gig, she’d have the same voice, the same talents, even if she was an administrative assistant.

So, the quiz of the day is:

1. Who will the people around you become in ten minutes?

A) Someone I will later regret not taking seriously.
B) Someone who’ll invite me to the opening night party.
C) Someone I’ll be glad for keeping in touch with.
D) Someone who could have made me a ton of money.

2. In ten minutes, who will you become?

A) a Broadway performer
B) a Broadway songwriter
C) a Broadway book-writer
D) a Broadway producer
E) a Broadway director
F) a Broadway set-designer
G) a Broadway costumer
H) a Broadway historian
I) all of the above except A and C
J) all of the above except A-F
K) I’m going to Hollywood.

the Broadway Mouth
Originally posted March 27, 2008

Amazing Discovery: Joseph Kramm’s The Shrike

2009-05-01T13:54:00.000-04:00

This was such an awesome find that I'm happy to share it again.

It plays out like a modern movie. A man, in a moment of desperation, attempts suicide. After failing, he finds himself in a mental institution with only his estranged wife to comfort him, not to mention to keep his new girlfriend at bay. With his estranged wife bearing sole legal power to free him from the confines of state custody, he grows increasingly agitated at being a sane man in an institution, as his wife begins to peel away all his connections to the outside world.

Over a year ago, I stumbled upon an old Random House copy of Joseph Kramm’s 1952 Pulitzer Prize-winning play in a used book store on a search for rare musical libretti. Not wanting to leave empty-handed, I grabbed The Shrike on a whim, knowing nothing about it. The play was produced and directed by Jose Ferrer, who also starred as Jim Downs, the man whose life hangs in the balance. According to the book Show Time, Ferrer won the Tony for the role and later brought it to the screen in 1955 opposite June Allyson. The play itself ran for 161 performances and also starred Judith Evelyn as his desperate wife and Isabel Bonner as the female psychologist Dr. Barrow whose feminine perspective inadvertently imprisons him longer.

The story begins as a curious depiction of a man facing a life of broken dreams but emerges as a tense observation of a woman desperate to escape loneliness, despite her mutual consent to the condition. By Act Two, it is unclear exactly why Jim is in the hospital—Is he really, indeed, mentally unstable, or is he being driven there by a system that requires him to give up sanity in order to appear sane. In reading, The Shrike becomes a page-turner.

In all my years of bookstore shopping, in all my years of keeping an eye on plays, I’ve never seen The Shrike before. If you’re into reading plays, particularly in search of something of high interest for your theatre group, check out The Shrike.

From Dictionary.com:

shrike (noun)— any of numerous predaceous oscine birds of the family Laniidae, having a strong, hooked, and toothed bill, feeding on insects and sometimes on small birds and other animals: the members of certain species impale their prey on thorns or suspend it from the branches of trees to tear it apart more easily, and are said to kill more than is necessary for them to eat. any of numerous predaceous oscine birds of the family Laniidae, having a strong, hooked, and toothed bill, feeding on insects and sometimes on small birds and other animals: the members of certain species impale their prey on thorns or suspend it from the branches of trees to tear it apart more easily, and are said to kill more than is necessary for them to eat.

the Broadway Mouth
March 20, 2008

From the Mouth of Arthur Miller: The Nature of the Adaptation

2009-04-27T09:25:00.000-04:00

“I had never thought to make a play of [the real event that formed A View From the Bridge] because it was too complete, there was nothing I could add. And then a time came when its very completeness became appealing.”

That’s what Arthur Miller wrote as an introduction to a published edition of his revised A View From the Bridge, his 1955 play about a man driven to sacrifice his name and honor out of an unspoken love for his niece, a daughter figure in love with a spellbinding illegal immigrant.

I found this an interesting quote because there is a strange hypocrisy at work among stage people, myself included. As writers, we crave to find our own entry into a story, some way to make it personal and workable to us. We don’t just adapt a life story, for example, but we alter it to fit our own interpretation. If this doesn’t happen—this interpretation of the work—we become critical, call the musical “faux,” and walk away lamenting the easy path taken by the show’s creators.

However, when Hollywood takes on a property, we are not so forgiving of any attempts to personalize a work. Most people, it seems, found the new scenes in the recent A Raisin in the Sun to be unobtrusive, but most did not welcome them with open arms. We accepted Tim Burton’s Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street without ever agreeing to the cuts to Harold Prince’s original version. To me, I never accepted the add-ons Arthur Miller himself gave the film adaptation of The Crucible, insisting that showing the girls in the forest steals from the mystery of the unraveling of the events.

The problem is that most pieces of creative work are personal. They are somehow a reflection on one’s own ideas and worldview. I recently contemplated how a book would adapt to the stage, and I found myself attempting to interpret the story and characters, not only to breathe some life into them for the new dimension but also to find my way into the story, someone else’s story. I was doing exactly what I dislike Hollywood doing. This is not unusual—the few other works I’ve contemplated adapting for the stage were all rooted in my interpretation—but it still makes me a hypocrite of sorts.

Perhaps the criticism for whether an adaptation is a bastardization or a blessing lies in the success of the work. No one ever complains about the alterations made to the movies of The Sound of Music or Hairspray because they work so beautifully. If Hello, Dolly! or Guys and Dolls had been immensely entertaining, I guess no one would mind the changes.

the Broadway Mouth
Originally posted March 14, 2008

You Don’t Really Know This Man (or That One or That One): The Musical as an Entry to the Writers’/Writer’s Psyche

2009-04-24T09:27:00.000-04:00

This revival is in honor of Next to Normal's opening on Broadway:

There’s something very personal about The Glass Menagerie. It’s as if Tennessee Williams opened up his soul and gently laid it on the stage. The Great Gatsby is also a very personal work. When you study the life of F. Scott Fitzgerald, you can almost see him hiding behind both Gatsby and Nick Carraway, one foot in Nick’s arm-length distance and another in Gatsby’s parties, trying not to want the life that’s there. Most pieces of great literature seem to be that way—Charlotte Bronte’s hopes and ideals in her Jane Eyre, John Steinbeck’s social concerns and love of nature in The Pearl, or August Strindberg’s meditations on truth in The Father.

Compare that intense personal expression with most musicals that have been successful on Broadway. It’s hard to see that kind of personal expression conveyed in, say, Guys and Dolls or Hairspray or even Meredith Willson’s solo opus The Music Man. Perhaps one or two of the Sondheim shows feel that personal and Rent. Rent is unique, however, in that Jonathan Larson had the chops to write the book, the music, and the lyrics, so Rent is largely his own creative expression.

The problem is that musicals are, by nature, a collaborative art form. One hundred percent of Sweet Bird of Youth is Tennessee Williams; there is no lyricist to take over for part of Chance Wayne’s dialogue or a composer needed to help convey Heavenly’s psyche.

It’s also important to remember that musicals are typically adapted from another source, so Flower Drum Song is a derivation of C.Y. Lee’s vision and The Secret Garden brings to life Frances Hodgson Burnett’s unique worldview. Sometimes those works might be filtered through creators’ lenses (such as the fairy tales in Into the Woods) or re-imagined/refocused to become a personal reflection of a creative team (like Annie), but the art form is still largely a group effort.

It’s such a rare occurrence that, when it does occur, you can’t help but sit up and take notice. In listening to Bernarda Alba recently, I was reminded of the singular nature of Michael John LaChiusa’s work, for which he typically writes the book, music, and lyrics. After having CD exposure to four of his works—Hello Again, Marie Christine, The Wild Party (librettist duties shared with George C. Wolfe), and Bernarda Alba—it’s fascinating to study the unique voice that emerges from his work despite their adaptive nature. You could never watch How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying and feel like you are getting an entry into Frank Loesser or Abe Burrows’ minds, but in LaChiusa’s work, you begin to see patterns, thoughts, and ideas that give entry to his soul.

If we can ever get to the place where musicals don’t have to be like The Producers or Spring Awakening to hit the cash cow, where audiences and critics welcome personal shows without requiring laughs every three minutes or broad comic caricatures, it would be interesting to see how else music can be used to express emotions.

I find Lin-Manuel Miranda’s creation of In the Heights interesting. In a recent Gothamist interview with John Del Signore, Miranda discusses the origin of his show:

The first song I wrote is called “Never Give Your Heart Away.” It came out of a conversation with a Latino friend of mine. At the time I was in a long term relationship and my friend was sort of your classic player. And he was telling me what his mom told him as a kid: "Never let a woman play you; play them first!" And I remember thinking about what a f--- up life lesson that is. I wrote that song on the subway from West 4th Street, riding back to my home on 200th Street, imagining a mother imparting that lesson to her son. That character ended up becoming Benny.

In an original work, those revelations belong to the creator. In an adaptation, those revelations belong to the creator of the original work, sometimes losing something in the process of interpretation (and sometimes gaining something else). In The Scarlet Pimpernel, for example, Frank Wildhorn and Nan Knighton reinterpreted and refocused Baroness Orczy’s original tale. Whatever motivated Orczy to create the character is reinterpreted for the musical. Sometimes what gets adapted is pop in nature. For example, Elle’s journey in Legally Blonde is an interesting one, but it lacks the level of insight that it might have had had the characters been created by someone on the creative team. Similarly, Arthur’s final dilemma in Camelot is a fascinating one, but it is not one that seems to be a fervent concern of Alan Jay Lerner’s. It’s one that fits the story well.

This is not in any way a negative perspective of these works; it is an observation for the sake of discussion. In my musical comedy, which I would call intensely personal despite its physical humor and fun caricatures, the journey of the main character is strictly at the musical comedy level.

I loved the Alice Ripley interview with Andrew Gans on Playbill.com in which she discusses her off-Broadway musical Next to Normal. In it, he writes:

Ripley plays the mammoth role of Diana, the manic-depressive wife of Dan (Brian d'Arcy James) and mother to Natalie (Jennifer Damiano) and Gabe (Aaron Tveit). After years of a drug-induced existence, where she experiences neither life's highs nor lows, Diana tries to find happiness, at first without the aid of medication and later through more drastic methods. While researching the role, Ripley says, “I did everything that I could. I definitely did a lot of homework, reading up on the subject matter of the show — books and online research. Also, I'm drawing from my mother's side of the family. Diana's story is in me personally. Even though I don't have the same story . . . the bloodline of what she goes through is definitely in my family.”

That sort of depth of character is something the musical hasn’t seen much of; it is something that can’t be nurtured in an adaptation or in an atmosphere where only comedy is welcome.

But it’d be awfully interesting to watch.

Broadway Mouth
February 27, 2008

Defining a Golden Age

2009-04-22T21:18:00.000-04:00

I don’t know if you can actually identify a golden age while you’re in it. It’s one of those phenomena that only become apparent after some distance and reflection.

Yet I have written about (and others have been considering) the possibility of there being another Golden Age for musicals on Broadway, perhaps something akin, if not replicating, the great Golden Age spurned on by the revolutionary Oklahoma! in 1943.

But before the question of a Second Golden Age of musicals can be answered, the term must be defined.

First of all, it’s important to remember that, while a critical element of theatre, a Golden Age is not defined by financial success alone. Financial success is extremely important in the world of Broadway because it is an arena of the arts that is still largely financed by individual investors as a means of earning a profit. Success breeds interest and more success. Historically, great shows that have now been identified as brilliant and ground-breaking are shows that have had a measure of success. No one stands and takes notice of the revolution made by a flop.

However, the definition of a Golden Age must take into account something other than financial success. In terms of financial success, Broadway has never matched the heights of the 1920s, particularly in the 1927-1928 season in which, according to Michael Kantor and Laurence Maslon in the book Broadway: The American Musical, an astounding 264 new productions opened. Broadway was tremendously successful in the 1920s; however, the era has never been defined as a Golden Age. The shows of that era are products of their time, and while many of the songs live on, the shows themselves tend to be footnotes to greater shows from the Golden Age or have only survived by falling victim to post-Oklahoma! sensibilities as their books have been reshaped to be palatable to new generations.

Compared to the plethora of quick-closing shows of the 1980s (Rags, Starmites, Wind in the Willows, Smile), Broadway is indeed in “great shape” as Elaine Stritch says in Rick McKay’s Broadway: The Golden Age. We still have our fair share of shows that close in the red (The Civil War, Jane Eyre, Urban Cowboy, High Fidelity, Brooklyn, The Pirate Queen, Sweet Smell of Success, to name a few), but the shows we’ve had with great runs are also very impressive. For original shows, there are fourteen new shows from previous seasons (non-revivals) still running on Broadway, not to include recent closers The Drowsy Chaperone and The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee.

However one may bemoan the state of musicals on Broadway, the reality is that The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, a modest show, ran 1136 performances on Broadway, compared to the original Carousel at 890, Damn Yankees at 1019, Guys and Dolls at 1200, and Hello, Dolly! at 2844. Yes, the theatre was smaller, but what’s important is that it was financially feasible for a comparative number of performances (in other words, profit is profit). A few other impressive runs of late: The Color Purple at 910, Hairspray at 2274 and counting, Thoroughly Modern Millie at 903, Avenue Q at 1878 and counting, The Full Monty at 770, and Rent at 5,012 when it closes in June. Other shows with impressive runs include Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, The Drowsy Chaperone, Tarzan, and The Light in the Piazza.

It is, indeed, an exciting time to love Broadway. While we have few of the big name-recognized stars of the Golden Age (like Carol Channing, Ethel Merman, John Raitt, Gwen Verdon, Alfred Drake, Mary Martin), we do have a growing number of names that are becoming recognizable to the outside world—Audra McDonald, Nathan Lane, Kristin Chenoweth, Idina Menzel, Patrick Wilson, and Anika Noni Rose. Almost as important, we also have a growing number of stars who have been able to make a career on the Broadway stage, people who have managed to parlay one or two successes into reoccurring roles—Sutton Foster, Hunter Foster, Donna Murphy, Marin Mazzie, Rebecca Luker, Brian Stokes Mitchell, Norbert Leo Butz, Karen Ziemba, Christine Ebersole, Kerry Butler, Christopher Sieber, and many others. That’s tremendously exciting.

We are also in a time when Broadway is getting increased visibility. No, it’s not to the same height as the Golden Age, but it’s getting there. Grease: You’re the One That I Want was not a ratings powerhouse for NBC (though enough of a hit to warrant extending the series by an episode or two) and still turned a poorly reviewed production into a hit, not to mention giving several very talented people a leg up on a Broadway career (and more than just Max and Laura). Disney’s High School Musical and the feature film adaptation of Hairspray spotlighted the magic of musical theatre and will surely create an entirely new generation of musical fans; they all already have songs from those movies on their iPods. MTV turned Legally Blonde into a teen favorite (when was the last time anyone outside New York was singing Broadway songs from a new show on such a grand scale?), and not only was it impressively successful when it aired, it has since spawned a reality television search for a woman to star in the tour, which will not only help make the tour a rousing success but will further the cause of Broadway.

Other than Hairspray, we’ve had many other Broadway film adaptations that have sparked the interest of a new generation—Chicago, Rent, The Phantom of the Opera, The Producers, Dreamgirls, and Sweeny Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.

Let’s not forget, as well, that not only did Fantasia create a stir on Broadway, but she performed “I’m Here” on American Idol and at Clive Davis’ pre-Grammy party, causing someone from Variety (quoted on Broadway World) to suggest that “Broadway shows could be a great source of material and there are not enough A&R execs mining this increasingly rich territory.”

Even without Fantasia, with LaChanze in the leading role, Oprah helped make The Color Purple a must-see show, generating intense interest by featuring it on her daily talk show. To top this off, there’s Idina Menzel’s new CD and Marissa Jaret Winokur on Dancing With the Stars, two great opportunities to showcase Broadway talent to the rest of the country. That’s all very exciting.

Those are all signs of a healthy theatre season.

However, there is another qualification of a Golden Age, shows must be of a certain quality. The Golden Age is the Golden Age because of Oklahoma!, Guys and Dolls, The Pajama Game, My Fair Lady, and Fiddler on the Roof. We’ve had many fun shows the past five years with tremendous scores, but I’m not sure how many of them touch the great shows of the past. The greatness is present today; there’s simply something missing in the recipe—perhaps the struggles of adapting films to stage, concepts that are a stretch for a full evening, or a missing element in the creative team.

As I’ve written before, I saw seven shows on my last trip to New York in August of 2006, and the only one in the league above was Hairspray. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy myself very much, it’s simply that the shows didn’t leave me with that tremendous impact (as compared to, say, the trips I took in which I saw The Music Man, Follies, or Kiss Me, Kate). I think we’re on the way to getting there; our creators are building their muscles.

In looking over the selected chronology in the book Broadway: The American Musical, it’s interesting to note when shows opened. It varies from year to year, but during the Golden Age, two or three superb (or beloved/remembered) musicals would open in a year—in 1960-1961 there was Camelot, Do Re Mi, and Carnival!; in 1961-1962 there was How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying and A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum; in 1962-1963 there was Oliver! and She Loves Me; and in 1963-1964 there was Hello, Dolly! and Funny Girl. In 1997-1998, we had Side Show, The Scarlet Pimpernel, The Lion King, and Ragtime. It seems to me that those shows all make for a more interesting season than most recent years.

A third key component for a Golden Age is the road. We are no longer in a time when a young Elaine Stritch could take Call Me Madam on the road (or when road audiences would know Mary Martin and John Raitt on tour in Annie Get Your Gun). Look at how Dirty Rotten Scoundrels (one of those fun shows with a tremendous score from my last Broadway trip) struggled on the road with Norbert Leo Butz as the lead. As a person who thrives on road companies, the past five years have been pretty pathetic in terms of Broadway tours. The road never got the revivals of Gypsy, Wonderful Town, or Man of La Mancha. With non-Equity actors (and the related changes to staging and choreography), we got sacked with Oklahoma!, The Music Man, and The Wedding Singer. Many of the shows that tour from Broadway now are the shows with name or music recognition (Saturday Night Fever, All Shook Up), changes from Broadway (Seussical and Sweet Charity), and small casts that can keep costs low (Little Women and Brooklyn). Part of a Golden Age is when the energy and excitement from New York spills over into other parts of the country.

This is not to be doomsdaying, however, because there is much to be excited about in the theatre—In the Heights is giving us the first Broadway musical incorporating hip-hop, not to mention that shows like Rent and Spring Awakening are able to thrive alongside Hairspray and Curtains (a show whose staying power is very Golden Age-like). There are so many very talented people performing and auditioning, and there are folks like Robert Lopez and Jeff Marx, David Yazbek, Stephen Schwartz, and Jason Robert Brown writing new music for Broadway.

Yes, I still say we are on the verge of something great.

But then . . . I don’t know if you can actually identify a golden age while you’re in it. It’s one of those phenomena that only become apparent after some distance and reflection.

the Broadway Mouth
Originally Published February 23, 2008

Memoir: What I Did For Love

2009-04-20T08:00:00.000-04:00

It's now been seven years since the reading referenced here. And the sentiment still applies.

I was twenty-five when I endeavored to produce a reading of my own work. I was a little like J. Pierrepont Finch with my copy of Mark Hillenbrand’s Produce Your Play Without a Producer in my hands, excited to elicit some interest for my self-proclaimed masterpiece.

The most difficult part of producing the show was getting people to help. At one point I contemplated driving around to find someone with a “Will work for food” sign to run the sound board. Finding actors wasn’t much easier.

There are plenty of actors in my area. At least there must be because we have plenty of theatres. Perhaps I simply didn’t know how to find them.

After placing several ads in the city’s major newspaper, I rented out space at a community center for auditions. My biggest hindrance to finding actors was actually Equity. Several friends from college had committed to taking part in the work, none of whom were Equity. If they were willing to take part, I wanted them in my reading no matter what. In fact, having them in the reading was a dream come true.

The problem was that while I was paying above Equity minimum for a reading, I couldn’t hire any Equity actors because, with my four college friends lined up to do the show, I would have had to give any Equity actors special billing and paid them a certain amount above the other actors, which would have been prohibitive. Even for a reading there has to be a certain ratio of Equity to non-Equity actors. I actually had interest from two Equity actors to take part, including one who had toured with The Phantom of the Opera; however, I was not willing to turn a blind eye to union rules. I respect Equity, and I figured that starting out my life as a producer would best be done playing by the rules.

I’m not affiliated with any theatre, so I needed to find a respectable place for people to audition, which is how I wound up auditioning at a community center. I had four women to audition for the female lead, a soprano role I would have died to give to one an alto friend. The best part was that my room in the community center was next to a room being used for kids’ soccer refs in training. It was an entire room filled with future refs, and whenever we had an audition, they could hear it through the thin walls. These women sounded great, and they could project! The organizer would stop over and give us the dirty eye, saying, “We’re trying to have a meeting here.” I apologized, but what could I do? Besides, it’s not like this was a cattle call; I had four women showing up!

The final actress to audition had a gorgeous operatic soprano, and she gave it all to the non-existent rafters. Being in the same room as that voice was thrilling, and when she performed her monologue, she knocked us (me and my collaborator) out.

When she left, the soccer ref organizer popped his head into the door to say, “She was good.”

Yes, she was. In fact, in the first day of rehearsal, she nailed the character 99%.

Oddly enough, I also hired one of the other women from the audition, and she and my female lead turned out to be former roommates. It’s a small world.

For the actresses I didn’t hire from the audition, I called them and let them know the news first hand. It was important to me that they not be waiting endlessly to know, that they knew how much I admired their work (for which I gave specifics in praise) but, for whatever reason, I had cast another person.

Finding the three remaining male roles, which included the lead, was much more difficult. I had actually scouted out some non-Equity talent prior and tried to establish contact, but I was young. I have a feeling I came off as a dreamer and not a doer, or perhaps I just sold myself poorly. Nothing came of it. From my first newspaper ad I found one of the very talented Equity actors whom I didn’t even audition. I actually had to run a second ad in the newspaper, and it resulted in a last-minute phone call. The actor had quite a bit of experience, but because of the timing and his lack of a vehicle, there was no way to audition him in person. He sang “Falcon in the Dive” for me over the phone. I didn’t know what else to do. It was him or no one. Sight unseen, I cast him.

He wasn’t perfect for the role, but he was perfect for the reading. He sang really well, but most importantly, he was a great person. I was such a tyro, and he stepped in to help out in many ways, fixing lyrics (my horrendous lyrics; I learned I am not a lyricist), stepping in in ways a musical director would have (if I was a tyro, my composer was a lump), and interpreting the part well, challenging me in some important ways to make some decisions about the character.

I never did find the final male role. I had two actors lined up—a very talented former student who had to drop out after the first rehearsal and another actor who simply never showed up. I finally divided the part up and had to give some of his roles to one of the actresses (who was so incredibly talented, she made it work beautifully).

I don’t think I could possibly thank all those people enough for helping me out on that reading—the actors, the photographer, the graphic designer, the website designer, the photo shoot costumer, and the hair stylist. I was pretty scrappy and paid as little as I had to/as much as I could (I financed the thing myself out of my teacher’s salary). The poster was photographed by a skilled hobby photographer (and very talented actress), the poster created by a very skilled college senior art student, the models worked for nominal pay and the experience, the hair done by my sister, and all the actors put forth so much for so little money. My friends in the cast, knowing me from my more timid days, supported me and ensured that nobody would steamroll me (which wasn’t a risk because I was very possessive, but I was thankful for their concern).

The experience was a bust in some ways. A big producing theatre in the area had promised to be there, and despite my reminder call, no one showed up. I mailed out expensive invites to many local theatre people, and none showed up. No matter what I did—phone calls upon phone calls, a write up in the local paper, expensive desserts for after the reading—very few people outside the friends of the cast showed up. I spent over $4000 on that reading.

And seriously, I wasn’t even in New York. I was pretty darn stupid.

Yes, the experience was a smash in other ways. At twenty-five I had practiced the rudimentary steps of producing and had actually produced something. I had directed a cast of professional actors. And I learned that, though there was much work to be done, my show had much promise. People seemed to like it, and the cast was enthusiastic for its possibilities.

Another big learning experience from the reading was the whole collaboration thing. The day following the reading, I called my collaborator and broke ties (It had been my project to begin with). He was a nice guy, but we didn’t communicate well, and he talked a lot but produced little (some of the blame which lies on my horrendous lyrics, some of which lies on him because he promised much and produced little). The song the cast seemed to like best, oddly enough, was the one where I had generated the basic melody. It’s best to say it was a learning experience, probably for both of us. I learned I needed a true collaborator and not a puppet, not to mention someone who didn’t think Andrew Lloyd Webber was all the rage . . . in 2003.

I write this for mostly selfish reasons. I’m now nearing the five-year mark of that reading, and, even though it’ll have little or no relevance to anyone else, I wanted to take some space and document the experience. I often wish I would have used that $4000 for a few other things that might have changed the course of my life, but then, what I purchased with it was something I could never place a dollar amount on—learning, growing, solidifying friendships, producing, memory-making, creating theatre.

I guess I did what I had to do. No, I won’t forget, can’t regret what I did for love.

the Broadway Mouth
January 26, 2008

P.S. I earlier wrote “You Simply Cannot Do It Alone or, How I Became a Theatre Expert in Three Easy Steps” about my learning curve when it came to collaboration and viewing my own work. If you are an aspiring creator (or aspiring-to-be-produced), it may be of interest.

The Strange Case of Dr. Brooks and Mr. LaChiusa: Seriously? Make 'em Laugh!

2009-04-19T08:00:00.000-04:00

There are so few laughs in Death of a Salesman, The Crucible, The Glass Menagerie, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, A Raisin in the Sun, A Doll House, and Fences. They’re so bleak, so joyless. To quote from one of my favorite theatre writers (about another work), some of them have “a bunch of characters so unappetizingly drawn that you wouldn’t especially want to go to dinner with them.”

Take Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, a play that fills the stage with so many obnoxious and unappetizing figures, you even hate the kids. Is there anyone in the play you’d ever want to talk to on the phone, let alone go to dinner with them? What about Death of a Salesman? I guess Happy isn’t so bad, but he’d still not be my choice dinner companion.

But naturally, these are plays. You like what the playwrights say or how the playwrights say it, not necessarily the characters with which they express it. It’s a given (and forgiven). They are entertaining via their ability to enlighten and communicate. You enjoy Death of a Salesman even though you aren’t necessarily entertained in the traditional definition of the word.

Okay, so I really do “get” why straight plays don’t have characters with whom you’d want to sup. What I actually don’t understand is the dual standard. If a serious play, movie, or novel lacks broad comic characters or witty banter, that is acceptable. No one questions it. But let a musical do that, and it’s blasphemy, a dour and dull night at the theatre, devoid of any redeemable qualities.

It’s a curious situation.

Many of the great contemporary musical theatre pieces were ones I first experienced on CD. When I first heard Marie Christine, for example, I was a young twenty-three or so, enraptured by the story it told. I couldn’t imagine anyone not finding themselves fascinated by LaChiusa’s updating of the Medea story. It was quite the shock when I read some of the critics’ responses to the show several years later.

One of those beautiful “serious” shows I have experienced in the theatre was Parade, which I was able to catch on tour. I don’t recall laughing much during the show, but I do remember it riveting me, drawing me in with the power of its story and what it had to say. The fact that I wasn’t laughing every five minutes didn’t even occur to me.

I’ve read similar critiques of other shows whose scores I’ve loved—LaChiusa’s The Wild Party and Bernarda Alba, Frank Wildhorn’s Jekyll and Hyde, Bill Russell and Henry Kreiger’s Side Show, and Paul Gordon’s Jane Eyre. A few of these I’ve seen on Broadway, a few I’ve seen regionally, some I’ve only heard the score. I was never bothered by the almost solely dramatic nature of the pieces.

The problem is that the Broadway musical has developed so that, as Arthur Laurents says, it’s now okay to die or be raped in a musical and even to have a sad ending. We still haven’t gotten to the place, however, where the musical can completely sever ties with its comedic past and still be a success. Critics still enter shows with certain expectations—that musicals should entertain through comedy, that only straight plays can settle for being thought-provoking (or moving or gothic or exciting).

I love musical comedy. There’s nothing like a laugh and a song. However, if we truly believe in the power of music, and the emotional expression that can be accomplished uniquely through song and dance, then there’s no reason why a musical can’t be the equivalent of Death of a Salesman in the musical form. Some musical ideas are better suited to humor, but just because others may not be doesn’t mean that they aren’t riveting and intriguing stories worth being told filled with themes needing to be heard.

The final vote always goes to the paying audience. The problem is that to a great extent the critics act as an entryway to the more unusual or unknown shows. It is possible that the masses simply aren’t ready for Parade and won’t be for some time. Yet, it seems like shows with great critical appreciation—which non-humorous shows seem to rarely receive—can still overcome audience trepidation to achieve a level of success.

Look at the score of Parade; “The Old Red Hills of Home,” “My Child Will Forgive Me,” and “This Is Not Over Yet” are amazing songs, songs that are fitting for the show’s tone and perspective. The story of Leo Frank is one that deserves to be told even if it doesn’t allow for subplot hilarity. Willy Loman didn’t need any, so why does Leo Frank?

the Broadway Mouth
January 23, 2008

Tell My Father I Didn’t Break the Rules

2009-04-17T09:00:00.000-04:00

“Too Darn Hot” could be entirely excised from Kiss Me, Kate without affecting the story. Entirely. First off, it doesn’t develop anything. If you look at it literally, it’s Paul and chorus singing about it being too hot, then dancing, which means that they’re actually making themselves hotter. It does nothing to advance the Fred/Lilli or Bill/Bianca plots. Paul and Hattie are there, but it does nothing for them. Second, it’s hardly even character-specific. It could be Paul singing, that chorus guy, that other chorus guy, or someone from any other show. Thirdly, it’s basically 1940s pop. Had it not been so ribald, it would’ve been a major pop hit in its day. It’s that generic.

Fortunately, though, for those of us who are fans of the show, the creation of a Broadway musical, as with any other form of artistic expression, is not a simple matter of mathematics. Kiss Me, Kate is far more than just a love story and a love story subplot with an energetic opening number, love song, dynamic Act One closer, energetic Act Two opener, love song reprise, eleven o’clock number, and exit music.

Yeah, “Too Darn Hot” is essentially disconnected from the plot, is not terribly character-specific, and is pop. But it works. It works because it’s a great song in a perfect location that affects the audience in just the right way.

It’s not math. It’s art.

Sometimes we get caught up on the rules of structure. It’s not that the rules of structure aren’t important, but it is not an end in itself. I’ve read plenty of critiques of shows—both on message boards and in publication—that focus too much on what the show “should” have rather than what it does have.

In Ethan Mordden’s thought-provoking The Happiest Corpse I’ve Ever Seen, he takes to task “Tell My Father” from The Civil War because he says the audience is expected to feel emotion for a character they’ve hardly known. Now, I only saw the tour, which was altered from the Broadway production, but the context seems about the same.

The Lehman Engel book of thought would agree with Mordden—and it certainly is a more than accurate theory in pretty much every case. If you have no emotional connection to a character, you’re not going to care two cents about their plight. If you saw the final scene of West Side Story without the rest of the show, it’d be just another girl crying over her hoodlum boyfriend. Yes, it makes complete sense.

However, it’s not math. It’s art.

To me, “Tell My Father” was extraordinarily effective because it was tapping into a character type, one that doesn’t need much to gain sympathy. I don’t have to know a person to see a story on the news and have my heart go out for the wife of a shooting victim, the daughter whose parents have been deported to Mexico, or the student who was brutally hazed. In the context of The Civil War, a piece that walked a fine line between musical theatre, concert, and mosaic, there was no need for established characters. I don’t have to know the personality of a boy killed in battle to sympathize with his last wishes. It’s an incredibly poignant song, a dying boy whose final thoughts are for earning love and respect from his father, a man who will undoubtedly have markedly different worries on his mind when the tragic news arrives.

Sometimes when the rules are broken, it flops big time. There’s a whole decade of shows Mordden details in his book whose memory has not survived past 1989. But even when you paint by the numbers, the show might thud anyway.

Then sometimes, you play with the rules, shifting things, experimenting, trying, or just doing what seems right for your story, and you wind up with Oklahoma! or Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street or Assassins.

It’s not the rule. It’s the effect.

the Broadway Mouth
January 18, 2008

In My Fashion: The Unique Struggle of Revivals

2009-04-15T20:36:00.001-04:00

This one was originally posted in December 2007, and it's as true today as it was then.

The Crucible is one of my favorite plays, tied with A Raisin in the Sun as tops on my list. I was assigned to read it as part of a high school America literature class, and it instantly gripped me by the transcendent elements of the story; I knew people in my own life who would have easily found themselves caught up in the hysteria. Finishing the play became painful. I wanted to know the ending but dreaded reaching it, knowing that there was no way it could possibly arrive at a happy conclusion.

I recently watched parts of the Nicholas Hytner film version, which I have yet to see in its entirety. I loved the play so much that, even though I had never seen it on stage, when the movie came out, I didn’t see it. I had envisioned it so vividly all the times I read it, I couldn’t face the changes in the movie. I even read Arthur Miller’s screenplay, published at the time of the movie’s release, while never seeing the movie.

For me, the idea of showing the events in the forest—one of the scenes from the movie I’ve never watched—spoils the mystique of what actually happened. In the original play, the audience finds out about it piecemeal, like good exposition should be given, but the result is an element of surprise as the reader/audience learns about it, all shadowed by the darkness of the unknown, allowing the imagination to take over from the dialogue.

What I have seen of it, I have also struggled with the difference between the images cultivated in my head by multiple readings and those of Hytner. I know that Arthur Miller thought Daniel Day-Lewis to be ideal for John Proctor, but not only did he not look the part to me, he never fully embodied my vision of the man, though I do like the choices of Winona Ryder and Joan Allen as Abigail Williams and Elizabeth Proctor.

But this latter point is the nature of a revival. Yeah, this was a film adaptation, but the concept is the same. A new work arrives onstage without any opinion or bias shaping its reception. There is no Pearl Bailey rendition of “I’m Here” to haunt LaChanze and no Robert Morse or Bonnie Scott to influence our hearing of “If I Told You.” In thirty years, should The Color Purple or The Wedding Singer be revived, that’s exactly what the future generation of actors will need to face.

It seems to me that many of the complaints I hear about revivals are simple matters of choices. The choices the director made in comparison to the choices someone on a message board would make. I had heard “Conga!” from Wonderful Town probably two-hundred times before the Donna Murphy revival opened. When they performed the song on The Today Show, I had envisioned the staging in my head so many times, it was slightly disappointing. It wasn’t that Kathleen Marshall didn’t so a fantastic job, because she did; it was that I had my own picture formed.

Truth be known, the vision in my head was no more correct than Kathleen Marshall’s. I would not be so presumptuous to even suggest that I could direct anything a fraction as well as Ms. Marshall does. I had simply formed my own stage pictures from the process of listening.

Unfortunately, many people take their choice preferences, formed by prior productions, years of listening to original recordings, and their own imaginations, and use that as a reason for discouraging the new production of an existing work. If a libretto or play is rich enough, it will withstand and welcome the interpretation of directors, readers, and audiences (though if enough alterations are made to book or songs, that’s another matter entirely). It boils down to choices, choices that, many times, are really just differences of opinion.

That is not to say that every revival is great or that one shouldn’t make criticism; however, I think it is important to analyze what is motivating that criticism. For many plays and musicals, the production requires the director to make a series of interpretive choices. It also requires the actors to do the same. Sometimes, these choices are a matter of preference. One preference doesn’t trump another; it’s all a matter of personal taste.

the Broadway Mouth
December 10, 2007

Those Rotten Critics (And Other Reasons We Hate Mirrors)

2009-04-10T09:40:00.000-04:00

Here is one from November 2007. Even though it's getting a revival, I still reserve the right to renounce this.

In watching the commentary track on Dori Bernstein’s Show Business: The Road to Broadway, I was confronted with the issue of the theatre critic. Those on the track, including producer Bernstein, actor Alan Cumming, and songwriter Jeff Marx, can barely contain their loathing for the critics as they watch them partaking in the round table discussions.

But interestingly enough, Bernstein, Cumming, and Marx become critics themselves as they discuss the shows. During the discussion, we learn how much they loved Taboo (though it was not perfect) and Caroline, or Change, and we hear about how great Idina Menzel was in Wicked, though they don’t seem particularly filled with praise for the show itself. By their lack of praise for Wicked in relation to the other two shows, they are basically voicing their feelings (and Cumming goes on record as saying he hates “Popular,” a song I would categorize as great).

So who is allowed to share an opinion?

I understand the aggravation, it’s one I hope to someday have the opportunity to risk experiencing myself, but I don’t know how valid of a concern it is.

No one likes to face criticism. As a writer, I love hearing criticism because it helps me improve, but once that baby is frozen and on its own, it’s got to be awfully hard to hear someone saying, “Well, this part isn’t very good.” As someone very sensitive to critique, it would be a big challenge for me to know how to process that without doubting myself or the final presentation I so desperately would want to love.

We’ve all adored shows the critics have hated or were mixed about—Jekyll and Hyde, The Scarlet Pimpernel, Aida, Jane Eyre, Bells are Ringing, Follies, The Wedding Singer. It could be a never-ending list. We vehemently disagree, we get angry at the effect they have on shows and audiences, we return to the theatre to show our support.

But then there are times we like the critics. If Ben Brantley says something nice about our show, then we like him. But if he says our show is boring or unfunny or lacking in emotion, only then he’s wrong. Right?

I love the interview with Boy George on the documentary when he addresses the issue of the critics. Now, for the record, I doubt Taboo ever had a chance to succeed because a show with posters that feature a man standing at a nasty urinal is not going appeal to a mass audience, particularly if it is a case of truth in advertising. And the adoring fan interviewed for the documentary comments that though people say it’s too gay, “it is theatre;” obviously, if gay people were the majority audience for theatre, Taboo would still be running today. I’m sure Boy George wrote some amazing music for the show, and it’d be great if he’d write another score, but I think his comments about critics are irrational. First of all, I wonder how much effect they actually had on the success of the show. Secondly, he despises the critics only because they didn’t like his show. That’s not a logical reason. He is biased—and his comments are important for the discussion—but his opinion of his own show is not a valid point in the grand scheme of things. The completion of his statement (which I here paraphrase) “If you stop shows like Taboo from succeeding” could be “then you get left with great shows.” I wasn’t in New York when Taboo ran, so I’m only playing Michael Riedel’s advocate, but it begs the basic question of any review or critique—Who should be the one to voice their opinion? The artist? Or the artist’s critic?

Obviously you are going to hate the critics if they don’t like your work. Yes, it is frustrating that one paper and one critic gets so much pull. Yet, it is very frustrating to pay $50+ on a ticket for crap when you could have gone to see Hairspray again.

We need to face the truth that musicals are expensive, and the average audience member needs an idea of which shows are going to be worth $50-450. Not everything is going to be good. Something has to be bad. And nobody is going to have the same opinion on any of it.

Often you hear about how critics have changed over the years, that critics during the Golden Age were so much better and so helpful. I can’t comment on that (except to say that the shows were probably better then as well—that statement makes me a critic— though we have actors on stage now who are just as good as any previous generation—that statement makes me a good critic in many people’s eyes). I’m excited for the next Rick McKay documentary because he will be highlighting that as a topic.

The truth is, though, that reviews appear after opening night, by which time the show is theoretically frozen. By nature of the process, I don’t know how helpful constructive criticism can be at that point. Perhaps critics should critique the show with constructive criticism mid-previews (which producers would hate), then reviewers should review after the opening. Essentially, that is the only fix to the complaint available. By opening night, having specific complaints about the plotting, with concrete examples of where things went wrong, seems futile.

Can one person ever be qualified enough to take on the task of critiquing a show, particularly anyone in as powerful a position as Ben Brantley? (And the collective answer heard all over New York is: Well I am.) It is frustrating that people who hate pop operas get to review them and that people who don’t like completely serious musicals review them, but that is the nature of the business. We have to acknowledge that The New York Times, Variety, and all those other respected publishers of reviews have a system and standard in place to select people to be in those positions who have established their qualifications for reviewing. (Except for Michael Riedel, who isn’t a reviewer but just a gossip-monger. Though, I must add that I adore Michael Riedel, his wit, and his charming smile, and should I ever have a show on the boards, I want to go record as saying that I mean gossip-monger in only the kindest way possible.)

So where was I—oh yes, the critics. Those people we hate because they disagree with us, the us we are who disagree with others, the others with the venue we’d love to have, to voice the opinions others would hate us for voicing.

I think we all need therapy.

the Broadway Mouth
November 16, 2007

(P.S. I reserve the right to renounce this commentary the day after my first show opens on Broadway.)

Four Top Ten Acting Techniques That Need to Go Away

2009-04-07T09:00:00.000-04:00

Yes, stupid title, but important concept. This is one from November 2007.

For everything there is a season, and in observing the Broadway musical over the last seventy years, almost every aspect has turned after a season—the strength of the book, the integration of music, the styles of musical storytelling, the technology of set changes, the use of amplification, and so on. With the latter change, a new style of stage acting was ushered in. Without the need to fill a huge theatre with the voice alone, actors have been able to adopt a more subtle style of acting, one that still fits the medium of stage acting but also takes into account the tastes of modern audiences who daily enjoy the subtlety of film and television acting.

We have so many fine actors today—just take a gaze at my 50 Amazing Broadway Performers in 50 Weekdays list for proof. However, on both Broadway and regional stages, there are yet some acting “techniques” that, like shag carpet and lead paint, need to say good-bye once and for all.

1. overly caricatured acting— I once had a former student who majored in theatre in college (why, I’ll never know; she only once participated in high school shows), but she dropped out because she said “the acting was so fakey.”

The stage will always be an acting medium that requires a larger-then-life performance because, as Carol Channing has said, you can’t perform in a 1000+ seat theatre and be normal. However, technology has allowed a change in acting style from the Golden Era which still has some remnants in professional theatre.

A performance can be stage-fitting without being “fakey.” The stage doesn’t allow for actions/mugging in place of genuine emotional expression. I’m specifically referencing grand expressions that communicate the subtext of “I’m acting on a stage!!!!” instead of “I’m devastated” or “How exciting.” This isn’t just a thought aimed at high school directors; this overly caricatured style still finds its way onto professional stages.

Yes, you need a certain amount of caricature for most types of humor (on stage or off), but there’s caricature still in touch with reality and that which is completely disconnected. The completely disconnected must be, well, completely disconnected for good.

2. Adults playing children—Unless it is a play that, like LaChiusa’s The Wild Party, would expose a child to adult behavior that they shouldn’t be exposed to, the expense in employing a child to play a significant child character pays off.

If the character is a small part and requires limited character development (such as Helen Burns in Jane Eyre, played so tenderly by Jayne Patterson), it can be done well. If the character is an intended caricature, such as those wonderful kids in The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee (which are surprisingly accurate caricatures), then it works. However, if there is complexity or it is a large part, it just doesn’t work. Now matter how talented the actresses playing young Amy were in the recent Broadway/tour of Little Women, a certain humanity was lost in the play. It was as if humans were playing the other sisters while Amy was a cartoon.

When adults take on complex kid roles, the typical result is that overly caricatured acting style which sucks the verisimilitude from the show. A realistic child character ends up with the same treatment as a broad comic character, a caricature of a child. This is not the fault of the actor. It’s simply that most adults cannot effectively portray children in complex or nuanced roles.

3. Squeaky-voiced chorines—Unless the show is a period piece that requires a show-within-a-show effect or the show is a parody of historical shows, the squeaky-voiced chorine is otherwise past its prime. Again, it is the overly caricatured effect that neither creates a realistic character nor brings additional life to the stage. It is an out-moded style of acting that doesn’t work with contemporary audiences.

4. Energy in place of character development—A still common occurrence, this is when actors present their character with energy rather than with emotion, when speed and perkiness triumph over truthful emotional expression. It’s when the audience understands the emotion rather than feeling it inside as a result of the performance. For women, this is often coupled with a raise in the pitch of their voice.

The stage requires energy—without it there is no stage presence—but a great, energetic performance doesn’t have to lack character development. There are so many excellent musical comedy performers who have mastered this concept—Faith Prince, Nathan Lane, Hunter Foster, Sutton Foster, Roger Bart, Susan Egan, and Cady Huffman, to name a few. For the ultimate example, see Kristin Chenoweth in You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown or Wicked. She naturally speaks in a higher pitch but still communicates true emotions.

the Broadway Mouth
November 3, 2007

Redefining Success: How Long Does a Show Need to Be Running?

2009-04-06T21:35:00.001-04:00

This is one from October 2007, and while the shows are a little outdated, the ideas are not. Take out A Chorus Line and throw in Hairspray, Spamalot, or Spring Awakening.

I love the exceptions we set up. No one wants this onslaught of jukebox musicals to continue. Except the music of ________________ would make a great show. Disney needs to stop doing Broadway! Except for the movie ________________ which really would make for a great Broadway musical. And those long-running shows—enough already! Except ________________ is closing too soon!

This was particularly prominent when Beauty and the Beast was closing. Despite all the online objections to Beauty and the Beast being a carbon copy cartoon on stage, on its lack of integrity as a Broadway show, and so on, the moment Disney posted the closing notice, it seems like everyone was saying how Beauty and the Beast should be running longer, that it was sad to see it go so soon.

Broadway fanatics respond to shows very personally. It is as if the alchemy of costumes, book, music, choreography, lighting, sets, and marquee form a human being, we get so attached. Our favorite performers may no longer even be in the show, but we mourn over lost experiences that can never be recreated, the new audiences that will never get to laugh at that joke or be awed by that choreography.

The result is that we want theatres to open up for great new shows without having to lose their previous occupants. Recently there has been much online speculation about the impending closing of The Drowsy Chaperone and The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee based on weekly grosses (neither of which has announced closing) plus much conjecture about Legally Blonde. Each of these shows have their own fan bases, so . . . no one can bare to see ________________ close so early!

In the Golden Era, shows lasted a couple seasons if they were a big hit—My Fair Lady lasted six and that was a mega-hit—then closed. Today, though, we have a new standard, the enormous number of performances racked up by Cats, The Phantom of the Opera, Les Miserables, and Miss Saigon. If you compare, say, The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee to Miss Saigon, okay, its run will be short then.

But even though we have this new definition of a long-running show, the formula for determining success still remains. If a Broadway musical stays open long enough to re-coup its initial investment, then that’s time for celebration. If, like the two current shows named above, they not only re-coup their investments but also brings in some profit . . . then that’s all the success anyone can require of a show. If a show closes breaking even or earning a profit, then its closing is a time for hearty celebration, for not only has it entertained many people but its closing is now nurturing a new musical production which can open in that newly vacant theatre.

So, let’s keep mourning the passing of our favorite shows, but let’s also keep it all in perspective. If A Chorus Line were to close tomorrow (the show’s numbers seem healthy, so it is very doubtful it’ll be closing soon), the show has already turned a profit, as has The Lion King, Wicked, Jersey Boys, and a bunch of other long-running shows.

Who could ask for anything more?

the Broadway Mouth
October 18, 2007

You Simply Cannot Do It Alone or, How I Became a Theatre Expert in Three Easy Steps

2009-04-03T08:30:00.000-04:00

If I could direct any young writer's attention to anything I've written, it would be (and has been) this entry. I've learned so many things the hard way in life, and how to go about finding collaborators is one of the most frustrating of all things learned. Learn from my mistakes!

Step 1
In student teaching 7th graders, I decided to create a unit on William Gibson’s The Miracle Worker. I entered the experience unsure of what I would be teaching, and as I was paging through a literature book from the early 80s, I spotted the play. Instantly I knew it’d be just the thing.

I created a fantastic unit centered on the play which focused on theatre appreciation and the theme of overcoming challenges/disabilities. I began by giving the kids notes on what makes a play—why live theatre is unique from movies sort of things—and pumped them up for enjoying the play. As part of this, I showed them clips from shows on The Tony Awards, including The Lion King and The King and I, to illustrate those points. So, for example, when we watched “Shall We Dance,” we learned how the imagination helps create the set.

I also created a bulletin board complete with photos of Broadway shows, pamphlets from local theatres, pictures of myself doing improv and the few shows I had done in college. I will admit it was a great unit. The kids were excited, loved the play, wanted to read it, and we all had a blast doing it.

My co-operating teacher was very inexperienced when it came to drama, so to him, my use of all this background and knowledge combined with my enthusiasm and the success of the unit made him impressed.

In my letter of recommendation, he wrote, “He has an extensive drama background.” I was 22. By this point in life, I had certainly developed an interest and had seen a respectable number of plays, but my actual formal education weas three theatre classes in college and two literature classes focused on plays (Drama Literature and Shakespeare). I had only acted in two plays, done stage crew for one, but had been heavily involved in improv for 2 ½ years. That was it.

I now had an “extensive drama background.”

Step 2
When I interviewed for a one-year English teaching position at a prestigious arts school three years later, I advertised my artistic talent. Admittedly, by this point, I had developed considerably more in my learning and experience. I had directed high school plays, had written a ton of skits and one longer play (which was basically a gathering of long skits into one cohesive story, but nothing grand by any means), plus I had been working on my first musical (and was in fact preparing it for a local workshop reading). I had even received some encouragement from a local musical development program (headed by a respected Broadway producer) when my work (at the age of 22, pat myself on the back) remained into the second round of selection for development . . . up against some people who had had professional credits on both coasts. I had also studied musical theatre considerably to learn more and to grow as an artist.

As part of that interview, I shared all my letters of recommendation and, to my surprise, was hired.

Step 3
This was a wonderful school, and it was filled with top-notch teachers of the core academic subjects (the group of which I was a part) as well as teachers who were experts in teaching performing, visual, and written arts, including two drama teachers who were very experienced and passionate in the way you would imagine arts school teachers to be.

After I was hired, the school’s wonderful program director mailed out a “welcome back” letter to all the teachers in the building. In that letter, he introduced the new faculty.

I was introduced as the new English teacher who had “an extensive drama background.”

Gee, that was easy.

The Reality
Unfortunately, actually getting an extensive drama background under any other criteria is pretty hard. In watching the Rent 2-disc special edition DVD this past weekend, I was astounded by the fascinating documentary on the making of Rent (both stage and film), which included an extensive look at the life of Jonathan Larson and his dream of writing musicals.

Jonathan Larson labored unceasingly toward his goal. Obviously he was talented beyond belief—just look at the longevity of his show—but he still had to develop his talent. Even as his show was courting Broadway producers, the producers were acknowledging that there needed to be work done on the show. It was rough. Even today when you read analyses of Rent, it is clear people think it is a great show. But I’ve never read an analysis that points to the show as perfect, possibly a result of Larson dying before the show could be frozen to his perfection.

It appears as if Larson was learning the difficult art of collaboration. According to friends on the documentary, Larson resisted collaboration. One even suggests that his resistance to collaboration may have been why his Suburbia never got produced, that it wasn’t because he was a new talent but because it was flawed.

In my journey as a wanna-be-produced librettist, I have learned many important lessons about the art of musicals. Some of these are lessons I learned the hard way, and others I learned by reading from people more experienced than myself. However, I bring them up because in my search for collaborators in the past, I have seen many people making the same mistakes I used to make and those that even the great Jonathan Larson was prone to making as well.

Allow me to be transparent for a few paragraphs. When I started on this journey, I had a musical play I began writing. I was only twenty-three when I started it, and as I mentioned above, I did receive some encouragement on the project.

But my vision for how I would hit the Broadway scene was that I would be an all-knowing creator. I just needed to find a composer and lyricist who could take all the songs I wanted them to write (because the libretto was genius, naturally) in the style my superior judgment understood they should be. I knew exactly where the dance was to be, how I wanted it performed, and that was that.

Then I met Hattie. Hattie is not her real name, but Hattie is a very talented composer-lyricist who has a great concept for a project.

She posted online wanting a collaborator for a project, so I emailed her several samples of my work. She immediately read it, sent back a bruising email in which she strongly critiqued my work point-blank. After catching my breath, I was actually extremely thankful for her harshness because that is the only way you learn. I grew from her comments. A few of them were dead-on, a few of them not. Despite her critique, she was interested in meeting to discuss the project. Over the phone she made it clear, “I don’t suffer fools.”

As I was to learn over our next two meetings, the only fool Hattie suffered was herself. First of all, she had some great songs, but they were tripped up by forced meter and a few off rhymes, though I will say that of all the composers with whom I’ve communicated that claim to be influenced by Sondheim, she’s the first of which I said, “Yes, I can see it,” though her work has a more easily identifiable and instantly pleasing melody than the Master's.

But Hattie was much like I was. She wanted me to come in and write the libretto the way she wanted. She wanted two comedic characters much like those in another show (which, if I had ever done that, everyone would have thought it was ripping off, her idea was so blatant). She had specific plot points in mind. It was all laid out. I just needed to follow her lead.

The problem is that very few artists work alone. A novelist has an editor who gives feedback, and a playwright gets help from a director. A musical requires the typical writer/songwriter to stretch so far beyond their natural talents. I have come to learn that I need a songwriter because I can’t do what a songwriter does. I need a choreographer because he or she better knows how to make a show dance. If I am dependant upon myself to do all the roles in a musical, then there’s going to be a great book and everything else will stink. Collaboration is about individual people bringing their best talents to make the show better than any one person could do it. Michael Bennett, Bob Fosse, Oscar Hammerstein, Stephen Schwartz, and every other successful Broadway creator has needed collaborators. No one else is going to top these people on their own.

The problem with Hattie’s idea was that it was an awesome concept with no conflict or plot structure. It was a series of events in a man’s life—interesting events, no doubt—but there was no dramatic tension. As I tried to propose a plot that would give the story a spine and a sense of direction, she balked at the idea. And she should have balked because I was very far off from her original concept (she wanted me to incorporate all her songs but never handed me her lyrics); however, the idea as she envisioned wouldn’t work.

She said she wanted a collaborator, but when I stepped in to suggest improvements (or at least changes) as a collaborator would do, I realized that’s not what she wanted. She wanted someone who would be a puppet, someone who realized her ideas were as genius as she did.

And honestly, having been there/done that, I can say I have seen much of that in people trying to find collaborators online. They want a clone of themselves who writes the book instead of just the music or writes the music instead of just the book.

But I’m thankful for Hattie because I figured it out before it was too late. I realized that I was just like her, wanting to do everything myself to the detriment of my beloved projects.

As for Hattie, after our second meeting when she rightly rejected my ideas for the plot, she emailed me to say, “Thanks but no thanks” (which, for the record, is a really tacky/chicken/unprofessional means of turning someone down unless you’ve only been communicating through email). Her project still has not come to fruition despite her having a big-time connection to Broadway. And it won’t until she learns what I had to learn.

You simply cannot do it alone.

the Broadway Mouth
October 11, 2007

Every Story is a Love Story: The Great Romantic Musicals

2009-04-01T08:30:00.000-04:00

Originally published in two parts, these are my thoughts on what makes for a romantic musical. Most musicals have love stories to some extent, but not every love story is a romance.

As Tim Rice says, “Every story is a love story.” However, not every love story is a romantic one. Love exists in many forms—the love between parent and child (The Rink), siblings (Side Show), ruler and country (Camelot), and friends (Wicked) to name just a few. And just because a story features a romantic love story between a couple of marriageable status doesn’t mean that their story is romantic. Fanny, for example, features a touching story of love an older man has for the young Fanny, even though she is emotionally devoted to the wayward father of her child. These are surely romantic notions, but the situation itself is hardly romantic. Hello, Dolly! is another prime example. It features two highly satisfying and endearing love stories, though ultimately neither of them sends flutters of romantic sentiment through the heart (and I don’t believe they were ever intended to).

Even as a man, I appreciate a good love story. I think as women read Danielle Steele novels to be swept away by a man of her dreams, I love a good Jane Austen novel because of its depiction of noble and honorable men finding an intelligent and independent woman in a pack if ninnies (and it helps that Austen’s characters are psychologically complex and are featured in fascinating stories of life in Edwardian England). I would go as far as to say there are very few great romantic stories, at least in comparison to the number of them which are created. Perhaps this is because I’m too cynical or approach romantic comedies with too masculine a perspective and find corny Kate Hudson movies to be lacking in true romance that doesn’t induce dry heaves.

So what makes for great romantic stories?

Well, first of all, there has to be some substance to the characters. Character types and cardboard lovers fall flat. In college I had to read a section of a romance novel in a literature class, and it was actually laughably funny (of course, I am a man, so . . . no offense, ladies). The characters should have a psychology and live a plot that rise above the been-there-done-that a hundred times normalcy.

The characters have to meet and fall in love in a reasonably realistic way. This is crucial because you have to believe that these characters are going to “make it.” People need to know each other before it can be believed that they will live happily ever after. There are more than a handful of musicals where the characters meet and fall madly in love in one scene, which is completely fine. It just makes for a love story rather than a truly romantic one.

There should be a clear reason why the characters love each other. Because she’s pretty and he’s strapping doesn’t work for a truly romantic story. I think of Wicked as a great example. Fiyero falls for Elphaba because he gets to know her. Because of this substance, “As Long as Your Mine” becomes a very romantic expression of mature love.

The conflict should be romantic in nature. Romantic conflicts include, but are not limited to, two powerful personalities who clash despite (or because of) their strong feelings, stories where there are roots to connect the lovers (like the woman loves for the man’s children too), love separated by circumstances, horrible misunderstandings that keep lovers apart, situations where one of the lovers almost makes a drastic and life-changing decision, stories where the lovers change because of knowing the other, and stories where two people have been together for years and are still (or are just realizing they are) madly in love.

There are several situations that can inherently sink a story from being romantic. If the characters are too young to really end up happily ever after beyond the end of the show, then it’s difficult to be too emotionally involved (unless the story is of another time or culture where youth equates into lasting relationships). Obsession is also inherently unromantic. It looks like love, but it comes from an emotional void that can probably only be patched in other ways. Stories that depict the main character being intimate with other characters is also not very romantic. Also, stories that are couched in insincerity lack romantic sentiment.

Above all, the story can’t be corny. I can’t think of any corny romantic musicals, but other genres that tell romantic stories are often corny, such as Hugh Grant winning Drew Barrymore’s heart by surprising her with a love song at a concert in Music and Lyrics or Ryan Gosling climbing a Ferris Wheel to woo Rachel McAdams in The Notebook.

That is not to say that there aren’t exceptions to rules. It’s always about how something is done. A musical about a barber who kills people and a woman who then bakes them into meat pies sounds gag-inducing, but the execution (forgive me) is so expertly done, it rises above all musical rules about not writing musicals about barbers who kill people and women who then bake them into meat pies.

And now I present Broadway Mouth’s Top Ten Most Romantic Broadway Musicals.

10. Parade—Even though they are married, Leo and Lucille’s journey forces their awkward relationship to change. She can no longer be a weak Southern Belle, and he can no longer be completely self-sufficient. Through their incredible life circumstances, they both come to love each other passionately. Because of this “All the Wasted Time” is a beautiful expression of their newly re-discovered love.

9. Bells are Ringing—There’s something irresistible about Ella Peterson. She’s extremely cute in how she wants to help everyone and manages win over everyone no matter what she does. While Jeff Moss is falling madly in love with her, it’s hard for us not to as well.

There is also a firm foundation in their relationship. They both need each other. Jeff needs her to help him write his plays, and Ella needs him to have someone to love.

Bells are Ringing has what is probably the most romantic line in any musical, when Jeff says to Ella, “You’re a girl with a lot of love to give. Instead of spreading it around all over the place, give it to me. I need it. I want it.”

That’s like “You complete me” long before Tom Cruise.

8. The Sound of Music—The film adaptation is the quintessential romantic story (and my favorite movie since childhood), and it is also the only case where the movie actually improved upon the Broadway show. But just because the film improves upon the romantic factor by adding location scenes (as well as additional material and re-organizing the songs) which helps create a stronger bond between the children and Maria as well as strengthening the bond between Maria and the Georg, it doesn’t mean that the original stage version doesn’t succeed independently.

There is something incredibly romantic about a love story that includes incredible children. It’s probably part of the happily ever after factor (or in love forever factor) which is so important for a romantic story because here we have one giant happy family when all is said and done. It’s beautiful.

7. Fiddler on the Roof—In our society, we value the concept of love and romance, and yet, we have a huge percentage of love-based relationships ending in divorce. I love in Fiddler on the Roof when Tevye presses Golda to answer, “Do you love me?”

Her response sums it up quite well. She sings, “Do I love him? / For twenty-five years I’ve lived with him, / Fought with him, starved with him. / Twenty-five years my bed is his. / If that’s not love, what is?” Despite my postulations on what makes for a great romantic story, Golda has pretty much summed it up—It’s the daily expressions and motions, the shared experiences, and the drawing closer together that is really what love is about.

The romantic story is also augmented by the experiences of the three daughters. While they are young, they each make severe choices in following their loves, choices rooted in cause and purpose, rather than emotion and whims. You can safely assume that each of these daughters will live with a measure of struggle but also with a life companion to share her pains.

6. The Music Man—You have a conman wanting to take advantage of a seemingly simple small-town woman, even going so far as to praise Hester Prynne for her scarlet letter. However in attempting to woo her in order to deceive her, he falls head-over-heels for her Irish imagination, her Iowa stubbornness, and her library full of books.

Marion is no foolish small town chickie, so when she accepts him for what he’s done for the community in spite of his con, she’s making a conscious decision and not one rooted in romantic notions. It is only when he changes that she really falls for him.

Above all, we love Harold Hill despite his con, and we love Marion for her stubbornness. You can help but cheer for them in the end.

5. Kiss Me, Kate—Here are two titanic personalities who clearly love each other deeply but can’t risk the gamble to admit it. Because of their mutual hard-headedness (or maybe their mutual insecurities), they almost miss out on their chance to have each other forever. Their song “Wunderbar” is beautiful for what it develops, their relationship when they have their guard down. “So In Love” then becomes icing on the cake.

4. Aida—Opposites attract, and when those opposites become not-very-opposite and fall deeply in love, it’s romantic.

Like many great love stories, it starts with the characters. Aida is a wonderful character, and her strength and determination is sexier than however the woman may look who is playing her. Though Radames starts out a jerk, his change is heart makes him a respectable guy (also, we need to remember his kindness to a young Mereb which attests to his inner nice-guys beginnings).

Because we are presented with these two characters we inherently like, we root for their love. It begins as something physical, but it becomes a union of similar personalities, a one-in-a-kind sort of love. Their love is deep, which is defined through several songs, most powerfully “Written in the Stars,” which is passionate even though it is about parting forever.

And yes, I can hardly resist the ending in which they die in each others’ arms.

3. 1776—Here we have a peripheral love story of a married couple separated by many miles, and yet, Edwards and Stone give us several very romantic moments.

John and Abigail Adams have a relationship firmly founded on mutual love and respect, which is always sexy. He huffs and fumes, and she picks on him; it’s a relationship that can only be formed through years of marriage and love. And theirs is a love that has survived separation and strife, only to grow stronger. It’s beautiful when Abigail asks John about the women in Virginia, obviously troubled by the months apart, and, knowing his wife so well, he basically says, “Don’t worry. These women can’t hold a candle to you.” Similarly, when he is in his moment of desperation and everything seems to be caving in, she is there to build him up as well. When she ends the reprise of “Yours, Yours, Yours” with the sending of saltpetre, the subtext of the action is “I love you and believe in you.” That’s more romantic than a kiss or a touch.

If most stories with romance portray the much-desired search for love, then 1776 gives us the love we hope to have forever.

2. Guys and Dolls—While it’s not written as a love song, “Luck Be a Lady” is probably one of the most romantic songs ever to appear on a Broadway stage.

First of all, there’s a romance that develops from dishonorable circumstances which could forever split apart the lovers (and almost does). Sarah Brown is a very sweet and passionate woman who sincerely intends to go great things. I would argue that she is a very modern character. Sky Masterson, while a gambler, is a respectable and honorable fellow. He does take Miss Sarah to Havana and even gets her drunk (unintentionally I believe), but he never intends for it to be harmful. After he realizes that she has downed too many drinks, he takes care of her and keeps her from harm or embarrassment.

When Sarah thinks that Sky has used her and leaves him once they’ve both fallen in love, the audience’s heart aches for these two who people who earnestly love each other but could be forever parted because of a misunderstanding.

That’s why “Luck Be a Lady” is such a romantic song, because of the desperation in which it is sung. Sky realizes he has screwed things up (with Nathan’s help), and this is his one chance to fix things up and get her back.

1. Jane Eyre—I know this’ll be controversial, but I can’t think of a more romantic story ever (and I saw the stage version before I ever picked up the novel, so I didn’t enter the Brooks Atkinson with any novel-based expectations).

It starts with two strong characters. Jane may be ugly, but she is one of the most beautiful women in all literature. I love how strong Jane is. I admire greatly how she refuses to give in to her passions because she realizes that it would betray her conscience and her sense of self-worth. I stand in awe of how she refuses the Rochester family jewels as a sign of her independence and her refusal to lose herself in the signs of wealth. I also adore Jane for her love of knowledge and learning and how that has shaped her view of the world.

Rochester, while certainly flawed, is also a very endearing character in how he treats his women. This complex topic could be discussed in a multi-page analysis, which I’ll forgo, but the fact that he has done his best to take care of Bertha Mason and to honor his wedding vows despite the difficult circumstances in a time when the insane were discarded and locked up under cruel circumstances is very honorable. And while he does attempt the dishonorable by wedding two women, his intentions are pure in his desire to keep both respectable (in a “what you don’t know won’t hurt you” way) and in violating only his own soul.

There’s also romance at the heart of how they meet and live. They both deeply love each other but cannot express it out of fear—Jane’s fear for her appearance and lowly position and Rochester’s fear of his dark secret and Jane’s youth. Then when they finally cross that hurdle, they are almost torn apart forever—each still singularly attached to the other—until a Providential intercession unites them forever. Their love for each other is rich and rooted. Even when circumstances change—Rochester is disfigured and Jane inherits great wealth—their love survives because it springs from their equality in spirit and intellect, their enjoyment of the company of the other.

It doesn’t get much better than this. It really doesn’t.

the Broadway Mouth
October 6 and 10, 2007

Revivals and Revisals: Paint Your Wagon Any Color You Want

2009-03-30T20:19:00.003-04:00

It's amazing how perspective changes things. There are always so many press releases that never come to anything, and this Paint Your Wagon revival was another. Still, I think the reflections that came from it are still valid.

Most recently, there has been some talk of a new production of Paint Your Wagon in which the story has apparently been rewritten to remove the polygamy elements while keeping the characters and basic elements of the original story.

I love my Paint Your Wagon CD. There are so many wonderful Lerner and Lowe songs (I can’t get enough of Olga San Juan’s “How Can I Wait?”), but when I read the libretto a couple years ago, it didn’t quite leave me with the same feeling.

Very few of the revivals to hit Broadway do so without some alteration. In Kiss Me, Kate, John Guare was tapped to make some ghost alterations to the Spewack’s original book, including making major changes to the Ron Holgate character as well as interpolating “From This Moment On” from another Porter show. According to Donna Murphy, there were some nips and tucks to Wonderful Town, while the producers of Bells are Ringing brought in Comden and Green to make some lyrics changes. In addition to her usual new orchestrations to open up shows for more dance, Susan Stroman switched around the order of things for The Music Man. Trevor Nunn got the Rodgers and Hammerstein organization to allow for some changes to Oklahoma!, and The Sound of Music revival added the two songs from the film.

Throughout Ken Bloom and Frank Vlastnik’s Broadway Musicals: The Greatest Shows of All Time, Bloom and Vlastnik make a case for keeping classic musicals just as they are, no re-writes, no updates, no edits. For a long time after reading this book for the first time, I felt strongly about that.

But now, I’m honestly torn.

Broadway musicals, in my mind, are like the plays of Tennessee Williams, the novels of Willa Cather, the short stories of Nathaniel Hawthorne. You don’t mess with great pieces of literature. They act as the signature of the writers, and they should be enjoyed and studied without alteration.

But then the truth is that musicals are collaborative pieces. It’s not just Jule Styne and Leo Robin’s songs, it’s also Joseph Fields and Anita Loos’ book, not to mention John C. Wilson’s direction which no doubt guided the whole effort, plus Agnes DeMille’s choreography. Without any one of those pieces, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes could have become a very different piece.

What changed my mind about Bloom and Vlastnik’s assertions was The Boy Friend. I saw the Julie Andrews tour. I was very excited to see it. Because Julie Andrews was on the CD, I had checked it out of the library several times in high school and copied three of the best songs onto a mix tape. Once I got into Broadway musicals, I bought the CD.

There are a lot of fun songs in that show, and from reading the plot synopsis in the liner notes, I had imagined it to be a funny and romantic show along the lines of Guys and Dolls. I even mentioned this to a friend of mine as a possible show I could direct when I was directing high school plays. She had seen the show and said, “I saw that at a high school once, and there was just nothing to it.” I figured she had just seen a dopey production.

Nope. Nope, she didn’t.

I know the show has fans, but when I finally saw it in production, whatever charms it had on the 1950s audience intimately familiar with the 1920s shows to which it was a valentine, was completely lost to the 2000s me. The plot is paper thin and the characters ½-dimensional.

A show simply must appeal to a modern audience. Theatre is not a museum. So, if that show contains sexist or racial caricatures no longer acceptable or jokes and plotting that wouldn’t connect with a modern audience, then the show needs to either be shelved or altered.

The problem is either when the music is so good or the book is so good except for “that one element” (or is great in summary but not in execution). One could argue that these are the exact reasons why Encores or Reprise exists, to showcase great music from shows that don’t get much play anymore, usually because of out-dated or clunky books.

However, there are millions upon millions of people without access to Encores or Reprise, yours truly being one of them. In its short run, more people saw the Sweet Charity revival (myself included) than could have ever have seen it in an Encores or Reprise production.

That is not to say that all changes are necessary. There is a big difference when “I’m an Indian Too” is excised because it requires Native American stereotypes that will turn off the wealthy, well-educated audience that supports Broadway, and when new songs are inserted in The Pajama Game for no apparent reason.

Honestly, there are many changes made for artistic interpretation of the director. That’s where I have issues. Nobody takes a great modern play, like The Crucible, and begins to add re-writes and switch things around because of their own artistic interpretation. This classic piece of literature, particularly now that Arthur Miller has died, is considered “locked.” Tennessee Williams isn’t around to makes alterations to Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, so nobody else will be allowed to. The director works to interpret what the playwright has given him or her. Like all great literature, it still leaves room for interpretation—is Brick gay or is he straight?—but it does so within the intents of the playwright.

I think of the Trevor Nunn Oklahoma! preserved so beautifully on DVD. As far as I can tell, the changes to that production were essentially interpretative changes—Trevor Nunn saying, “If I had originally directed this, here’s what I would have done.” But, I would say, “You didn’t, and you are compromising the playwrights’ intentions.”

That is really one of the key problems with much of the criticism on message boards. The harshness often comes not from “Where did this production go wrong” as much as “Here’s what I would have done, which is obviously infinitely better.” The problem arises when it results in the compromising of great American works of art.

But then you do have a problem when the shows become museum pieces. Should no one ever hear those great Cy Coleman and Carolyn Leigh Wildcat songs live because the libretto is reportedly weak?

A good example of this is with Richard M. and Robert B. Sherman’s Over Here!, which has a libretto by Will Holt. If you read the synopsis in the liner notes, the show sounds like tons of fun. However, if you read the libretto—published by Samuel French, so you can actually order it and read it—the show is written to the people who lived during World War II. It has a “remember the good old days” aura about it.

I don’t know about you, but I don’t remember the good old days. The good old days to me are Saved by the Bell. And, I don’t think there are tons of people who remember those good old days left to fill a theatre for a long run.

It would be my dream to write a modern musical comedy libretto for Over Here! using the old songs (and probably needing a few more added) to make it palatable for modern audiences, allowing audience to hear that great music again.

Did I mention I would love to see Paint Your Wagon on stage in an entertaining form?

But there I go contradicting myself. Bad, bad Broadway Mouth.

In the end, it’s all about money. Who wants it and who is willing to sacrifice grandpa’s work to get more of it? If I ever get a show or eight on Broadway, I hope to God my grandchildren aren’t bastardizing my work to send their children through college. But then, I also hope I write shows that are timeless enough to survive decades untouched.

the Broadway Mouth
September 26, 2007

Epilogue: 50 Amazing Broadway Performers in 50 Weekdays

2009-03-27T12:05:00.001-04:00

The summer I start my blog, I did a regular sereies called 50 Amazing Broadway Performers in 50 Weekdays. Below is the epilogue to that series. If you'd like to see what I originally wrote about them, just type in their name into the search box in the upper left corner, and any related entries will pop up.

On a side note, I've now seen some of the people mentioned here perform live--Susan Egan, Judye Kaye, and (referenced below) Hunter Foster.

Norm Lewis
Felicia P. Fields
Carol Channing
Chuck Wagner
Susan Egan
Marla Schaffel
Douglas Sills
Mary Testa
Cleavant Derricks
Carly Jibson
Sherie René Scott
Denis O’Hare
Michael Lanning
Amy Spanger
Faith Prince
Emily Skinner
Jose Llana
Stephen Lynch
Rebecca Luker
Randal Keith
Sutton Foster
Lea Salonga
Rick Faugno
Leslie Kritzer
Merle Dandridge
Marin Mazzie
Carolee Carmello
Rachel York
Audra McDonald
Donna Murphy
Brian Stokes Mitchell
Keith Byron Kirk
Craig Bierko
Leslie Hendrix
Christine Andreas
Elaine Stritch
Bernadette Peters
Donna McKechnie
Bebe Neuwirth
Michael Berresse
Heather Headley
JoAnn M. Hunter
LaChanze
Stephanie J. Block
Judy Kaye
Sharon Brown
Tina Maddigan
Christiane Noll
Idina Menzel
Chita Rivera

When I look at this list of talent, I am amazed by these people. I mean, seriously, look at these names and try to tell me that the people out there pounding the boards today don’t compare with those of the past. For each of these performers I’ve seen in person, I look at their names and waves of excitement wash over me as I think about the prospect of being able to see them again. For each of the performers I haven’t seen in person, I get excited in hoping to someday witness their talents in person.

As I said before, nothing will ever replace Gwen Verdon or Ethel Merman or John Raitt, but then, nothing will ever replace Keith Byron Kirk or Donna Murphy or Michael Berresse.

And the best part is that there are so many other talented people not on the above list who are amazing Broadway performers. On the people I’ve seen list, there’d be Felicia Finley, Richard H. Blake, Jessica Snow-Wilson, Diana Kaarina, Andrea Rivette, Coleen Sexton, Elisabeth Withers-Mendes, Krisha Marcano, Kenita R. Miller, Kendra Kassebaum, Jenna Leigh Green, Bob Martin, Danny Burstein, Sandy Duncan, Natasha Diaz, Solange Sandy, Paul Schoeffler, Melba Moore, Adam Pascal, Damian Perkins, John Hickok, Kelli Fournier, Beth Fowler, David Garrison, Deborah S. Craig, Barret Foa, Celia Keenan-Bolger, Sarah Saltzberg, Lisa Yuen, Margaret Ann Gates, Melinda Chua, Luoyong Wang, Christa Justus, Kim Huber, Kate Levering, Christine Ebersole, David Elder, Howard McGillin, Sandra Joseph, Jenny Hill, Blythe Danner, Judith Ivey, Polly Bergen, Mary Stout, Austin Miller, Alli Mauzy, Tom Hewitt, Charlie Pollock, Samuel E. Wright, Tsidii Le Loka, Cherry Jones, Ashley Brown, Amy Bodnar, Brian d’Arcy James, Sara Gettelfinger, Jacques C. Smith, Loretta Divine, E. Faye Butler, Hayley Mills, Jay Garner, Florence Lacey, Cory English, Michael DeVries, Monica M. Wemitt, and Lori Ann Mahl, to name just a few.

If I were to create a list of amazing Broadway performers I’d love to see, names like Tonya Pinkins, Hunter Foster, Betty Buckley, Judy Kuhn, Anthony Crivello, Norbert Leo Butz, Kerry Butler, Sally Murphy, and Kelli O’Hara would make that list as long as the one above.

the Broadway Mouth
September 24, 2007

Get with the (Souvenir) Program

2009-03-25T11:00:00.000-04:00

This was originally posted September 18, 2007, and it's still pretty dead-on. It feels good to be dead-on.

I never leave for a show without the money to buy a souvenir program. To me, the CD and the program are essential elements of the experience. You pay $80+ for the show, and not only do you want to remember every minute of that awesome/expensive experience, you want pictures to help you remember and the music to relive it again and again.

When I come home from New York on the plane, the care of my souvenir programs is of utmost concern. I don’t want smashed corners or bent pages. That means they never go in my suitcases or in overhead compartments. I make sure one of my carry-ons is a nice plastic shopping bag that is small enough to keep my programs close together, and I slide it carefully under the seat before me. I then don’t move my legs (which are quite long, since I am 6’ 5”) for the entire flight unless I can do so without stepping on my programs.

Thankfully, they all still look as good as new.

Lately I’ve seen a few programs popping up at used bookstores in my area, which is how I got my Ragtime program (a souvenir of my Lincoln Center Theatre archive viewing). I often pick them up and am surprised at how vapid a number of them have been, more filler and fluff than actual substance. Now, I know not every theatre-goer out there is as obsessive as I, but on some of these, I can see why they’d have no problem selling them for a quarter to a used bookstore.

If you’re paying $10 (or $20 at Tarzan with a cheap bag), you want something to help you preserve the memory. No wonder people were selling of these Rent tour and various other programs. They gave no real clue about what they had seen on stage. Obviously at one point they wanted to preserve the memory, so the show must have been dear them enough to pay for the program in the first place.

I love my programs. When I want to remember how great Jane Eyre was, I just page through the beautiful photographs. When I want to remember how much I laughed during Kiss Me, Kate, I’ll pick up the Broadway or the tour cast program. If I want to remember how great Jayne Patterson was as Fantine, I pull out one of my Les Miserables programs.

And I know I’m not the only one.

Sometimes, though, I do think the producers’ perspective of what we want to remember and what the audience really wants to get are two different things.

So, dear producers, here are some guidelines to help you as you assemble the program you want to sell to aid your bottom line and to aid us in remembering a (hopefully) magical experience.

1. We want pictures. Lots of them that we can easily see.

On this front, The Color Purple program had to be about the most disappointing program I’ve ever gotten. Many of the pages consisted only of one large picture spread out across two pages. There’s one beautiful picture of LaChanze when Celie finds Nettie’s letters, where the crease comes in at her shoulder, which damages the effect. And since the picture is basically LaChanze (lit beautifully) surrounded by pitch black stage, I’m not sure show two pages were needed for that picture, particularly considering the program as a whole.

In addition to the overall shortage of pictures, there are a good number of pictures printed in the program which are so small, they might as well not be included. Seriously. God forbid you should want to remember any of the supporting characters. For such a beautiful show, you’d think they could include something to better help you remember it.

There is, however, a nice picture of Oprah, as if we don’t get a chance to see her often. She looks great, of course, but she wasn’t in the show.

2. Fewer words. There can be one page dedicated to words about the show, but that’s really about it.

In The Color Purple, we get one page dedicated to Oprah telling about how the book changed her life (she already gets a whole monthly magazine and a daily television show to tell us about herself and her experiences). There’s also a page dedicated to Alice Walker and the various incarnations of The Color Purple (with two very small shots from the show at the bottom, relegating Krisha Marcano’s beloved Squeak to a size smaller than my thumb). There’s also two pages about the creation of the show, and another page dedicated to the composer/lyricists and choreographer. There’s also one page (two bottom halfs) detailing the history of juke joints, and one page and a quarter (roughly ¾ of two pages) dedicated to a timeline of African-American history. Then writer Marsha Norman—oddly enough, almost the least-winded of them all—get her say in less than a page of writing (spread out into two pages). I’m surprised the stage hands don’t have a page to share their thoughts, though perhaps that’s one thing that’ll be negotiated for soon.

So, did I buy this program to remember the $120 I spent on The Color Purple or to get a textbook on African-American history?

My Wicked program is an example of an exceptional program in this regards. There is one page dedicated to Gregory Maguire (spread out over two half-pages), and the rest is pretty much pictures that don’t require a magnifying glass to identify.

And even though the cast pictured is the Broadway cast and not the original tour cast that I saw, the pictures are of significant scenes and costumes so that I can vividly recall the images I experienced that wonderful night.

3. Don’t get too cutesy. Stylish design is good, but you don’t want it to overpower the content. A board game in the Urinetown program, for example, is great fun . . . until you realize how much space it’s taking from other content.

Similarly, my program for The Drowsy Chaperone has ten pages of fun fluff. The pictures in the rest of the program are spectacular, but when I find myself looking I through it again, the two pages dedicated to Gable and Stein’s stable aren’t very interesting. The ten pages of Man in Chair’s scrapbook don’t help me remember the show.

4. Remember your audience. Why do people buy souvenir programs? To help them remember the wonderful experience they just had. As flattering as it surely is, an entire page dedicated to snapshots of the producers at the end of my Hairspray program is not why I bought the program. Don’t get me wrong, I am very thankful for all nineteen people and organizations shown there, but . . . They weren’t in the show, so why are they in the program?

Similarly, the Hairspray souvenir program—which has lots of beautiful pictures of the Original Broadway Cast—sprinkles throughout pictures and bios of the entire creative team. The bios come in the insert in the program (which, by the way, was cleverly printed on a fold-out poster). Not only is it redundant to take up space with them in the program, it’s a repeat of information.

When I see the programs that wind up sold to used bookstores, often, there’s so much information not related to the specific experience that I look at the programs myself and can’t get a feel for what they experienced.

5. Use updated pictures as much as possible. I think, as happens so many times, Cameron Mackintosh leads the way on this one. Towards the end of its tour, Les Miserables would hit my city almost yearly. And with every pass through, the souvenir program would be updated with the cast changes. It was a smart move on Mackintosh’s part because I bet I’m not the only one who didn’t mind double-dipping, particularly when it came to getting photos of favorite performances (for me, it was the amazing Jayne Patterson as Fantine).

It seems to be happening less now, but on tour, it often seems like we just get the New York cast in our photos. That’s still nice, but since it is supposed to be a souvenir of what we just saw, updated photos would be ideal.

And I know late in runs, the New York programs tend to be an amalgam of photos from various casts. I bet most theatre-goers would prefer to see photos of their cast rather than a mix of great casts of the past.

6. Make sure that there is a souvenir program!

Probably the strangest purchase I ever made was a program I got at the Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat tour with Patrick Cassidy and Deborah Gibson, which not only didn’t feature the cast I saw, but it wasn’t even the production. I think it was a program of photos from perhaps the original Broadway production. Strange.

I figure if the non-Equity tour of Godspell can come to town with not only a program of the cast but a CD as well, a Broadway tour could at least manage a souvenir program.

I’ve been fortunate that for several tours, I was able to get missing programs on a trip to New York, but it is annoying to see a show and to discover that the program isn’t available. Sometimes it’s a matter of printing times, such as when The Music Man was so new in New York, the programs just weren’t made yet. However, on a tour like Annie Get Your Gun or The King and I, which had been playing in New York for some time, some form of souvenir program should have been possible until new ones were printed.

Two exemplary souvenir programs that I remember are the programs for Bells are Ringing and Tarzan. For Bells are Ringing, there were a ton of pictures throughout (literally from cover to cover), of varying sizes but all large enough to easily see what was going on. The design includes lines on each page, I think to represent telephone lines, but they don’t obscure any pictures. There is writing (a piece from Betty Comden on the inspiration for the show, two historical sections on prices in 1956 and the history of communication, and a few paragraphs from the producer, and about a page from the director), but the best part is that these writings seem secondary to the photographs. They are beside the pictures, in corners of the actual photograph, and above them. A little less writing would have been nice (who cares about a history of communication—what’s the audience for this program?), but the great and many pictures make up for it. This program, by the way, was designed by Dewynters.

It’s almost unfair to use the Tarzan program as a model because it was for a Disney show and is about twice as long as other souvenir programs, no doubt because of the history of Disney’s success on Broadway (and the additional $10 I paid). The program, however, was filled with so many beautiful photos that the amount of writing doesn’t matter. There are many photos from the show itself, plus many others from photo shoots. There is an essay on Edgar Rice Burroughs, three paragraphs from producer Thomas Schumacher, and a few snippets here and there on the creative team for the show. But it is essentially a luscious book loaded with pictures printed on very high quality paper (even the insert of the actors’ bios is printed on thicker paper).

My love for Broadway and the excitement for seeing a show runs incredibly deep. There are times that I pick up a brochure or catalogue and I am immediately taken back to great memories when the printing smell is that of a Broadway program. That smell—no, aroma— takes me back to so many great experiences in the theatre that it makes me wish I could go run and see Show Boat again or Urinetown.

Souvenir programs not only help the bottom line for the producers, they are an essential part in recalling the experience for many people in the audience. When well-created, it becomes a permanent memory when the shows are long-gone and the casts have moved on. When not well-created, you can buy them for $3 at your local used bookstore.

the Broadway Mouth
September 18, 2007

Eight Top Ten Theatre Books I Love

2009-03-22T12:00:00.000-04:00

I originally posted this column September 8, 2007. I love nothing more than a great theatre book, and here are the best of the best.

Honestly, when I began buying theatre books, I’d pick them up as remainders at a local used bookstore. I never expected to fully read them, just to use them as reference books to look up shows and their creators.

However, the breakthrough came in reading Keith Garebian’s books on “the making of” My Fair Lady and West Side Story about seven years ago. Garebian’s books make for interesting reading, which somehow came as a surprise to me at the time (Give me a break; I was only twenty-three). Since then, I’ve worked my way through a good number of theatre books—from two Ethel Waters autobiographies, another Keith Garebian book (with the other two waiting in the wings), Ted Sennett’s fantastic Song and Dance: The Musicals of Broadway, Max Wilk’s Ok! The Story of Oklahoma!, Peter Stone’s lengthy account on Titanic (not to mention the show’s libretto), Stuart Ostrow’s A Producer’s Broadway Journey, among many others (many of which I have bought brand new, by the way).

And, naturally, like any good reader, I have many more to go, with Donna McKechnie’s Time Steps: My Musical Comedy Life and Letters from Backstage: The Adventures of a Touring Stage Actor by Michael Kostroff high on my list of books to buy.

In all my reading, though, there are eight theatre books I probably have relied on more and revisited more often than any others. Above all, they make for interesting reads about topics that greatly interest me, but a good number of these are also books that have not only kept me informed but have also worked to shape my understanding of musical storytelling structure, characterization, and song placement. For someone like me, that’s invaluable.

Making It on Broadway by David Wienir and Jodie Langel—I’ve already detailed this one in an August blog entry, so I will save time by paraphrasing myself. If you read that blog entry, maybe skip ahead to the next book.

Making It on Broadway is a collection of first-hand accounts from contemporary Broadway performers about the heart-breaks and disillusions they’ve met as they’ve worked to make it on Broadway. Reading it was instant meth. Once I started, I literally couldn’t stop. It’s both hilarious (with many laugh-out-loud moments) but very enlightening and touching too. It’s all real stories by people who have pounded the boards.

Making It on Broadway has honestly had a profound effect on me as a theatre-goer and as a future librettist. When I think about whom I’d love to cast in my shows if they ever made it to Broadway, I think about this book. When I see Jerry Mathers stumbling through a televised performance from Hairspray, I think about this book. When I see people attacking performers on message boards, I think about this book. When I envision the career I’d like to have as a writer and the impact I’d like to have on Broadway no what genre I write, I think about this book.

Honestly, I need to also say again, I really think Wienir and Langel should write another Making It on Broadway book, perhaps dealing with another aspect of the business, like what performers think about current trends—amplification, the types of shows that are produced, savage message boards, etc.

(P.S. If you did read that rather melancholy blog entry, first of all I apologize. Secondly, I never did take a teaching job in California. Despite great encouragement from a recruitment organization, I couldn’t make the timing work. I’m working on Plan C . . . or is that Plan G? Anyway, this will all make for a great memoir someday.)

The TheaterMania Guide to Musical Theater Recordings, edited by Michael Portantiere—This is such an invaluable guide. It’s one of those books I find myself perusing often, re-re-re-reading entries. It’s great for the critical commentary on shows and performances, as well as a go-to guide for which recording is best suited to your needs. I love that there’s such a handy one-stop-shop for finding out which CD is the most complete recording, the best-sung, and all that jazz.

Obviously, there are entries with which I greatly disagree—Les Miserables, Aida, and the revival Hello, Dolly! come to mind—but I can’t get enough of this book and these observations. I don’t know if there’s a plan to update, but I sure hope we get another one soon. There are so many great new recordings I want to read about.

Let’s Put on a Musical! by Peter Filichia—I value this book so much because I have such a high respect for Peter Filichia and his TheaterMania column, though he does produce some darned exasperating quiz questions.

I originally picked this book up when I was directing high school plays, but in the six years since I decided I wanted a personal life and resigned that position, I couldn’t count how many times I’ve paged through Let’s Put on a Musical!.

In the book, Filichia outlines all the information you’d want to know about specific musicals in deciding whether to produce a show for your school, community theatre, or whatever, identifying significant set pieces, the amount of dancing, casting needs, and so on. What keeps me picking the book up are his concise appraisals of the musicals in his identification of assets and liabilities. It grants you a glimpse into Filichia’s thoughts on most of the significant musicals from about Oklahoma! to 1993, the year it was published. It’s like a movie guide from a great movie critic, except for musical theatre.

Whenever I see a show performed or read a libretto or listen to a CD I haven’t popped in for awhile, I love to read other people’s view of the show, and because of that, Peter Filichia’s Let’s Put on a Musical! has been invaluable. Sometimes I just open it up and page through the information on various shows.

There was word a few years back about Filichia updating the text to include the many new shows that have arrived on the scene since 1993. Personally, I can’t wait. I want to see what he has to say about The Scarlet Pimpernel and Titanic and Aida and Dirty Rotten Scoundrels and so on.

Note: Thanks to someone who commented on this thread, I can pass on to you that the new Let’s Put on a Musical! is already published. I’m excited!

Everything Was Possible by Ted Chapin—Again, I paraphrase/quote myself from a June blog entry where I analyzed problems and solutions to Sondheim and Goldman’s imperfect masterpiece Follies (for that blog entry: http://broadwaymouth.blogspot.com/2007/06/road-they-didnt-take-fixing-follies.html) in which I discuss this amazing book.

In Everything Was Possible, Ted Chapin describes with great detail the laborious rehearsal period for the original Hal Prince/Michael Bennett production of Follies. In addition to being a fascinating read because it details the creation of this breathtaking production, it gives you a stripped-away, glam-less documentation of the making of a Broadway musical (which, for the record, has a great many similarities with directing plays at the high school level, which I found fascinating).

It becomes a page-turner as former intern Chapin details the week-by-week developments of the show. You know how the show turns out before you even take in the introduction, but as you read, you do find yourself wanting to know what happens next. It makes for a fascinating read and a must-have for anyone interested in how Broadway musicals are made.

Broadway Musicals: The Greatest Shows of All Time by Ken Bloom and Frank Vlastnik—In this fascinating must-have tomb, Ken Bloom and Frank Vlastnik list and detail the 101 best Broadway musicals of their choosing. This is an exciting read loaded, stuffed, and jammed with rare full-color and black-and-white pictures and tons of interesting information. I know this book received a lot of press in its 2004 publication, but it shouldn’t be ignored or forgotten.

First of all, the book is only $34.95 which, considering its size and plethora of full-color pictures, is a real steal. Most importantly, however, the content is even more impressive.

It is clear Bloom and Vlastnik really researched this book. They reach back to such shows as The Desert Song, The New Moon, and The Student Prince in Heidelberg, often describing these lesser-known musicals in such vivid detail as to make you wonder where they hid the time machine. Most importantly, they make these older musicals—which are only names in books to many of us—come alive and seem vital. In a quick and pleasurable read, I learned so much about the pre-Oklahoma! periods and why those shows were popular.

While incorporating these important older shows, the list does consist of mostly modern (or post-Oklahoma!) musicals, giving you a front-row seat to their glories. In addition to the usual suspects, you get shows such as Destry Rides Again, Do Re Mi, and Fanny, none of which I knew much about until I read this book, beyond being a CD on a store shelf that is.

I love learning about Broadway musicals, and I gained so much insight from this wonderful book. Not only did I take in all sorts of new information about classic shows that I had seen, but I was also introduced to much rarer gems.

Plus, the authors don’t just stop at discussing shows. There are sidebars on legendary Broadway performers and their varied careers, as well as creative team members, such as choreographers and songwriters.

So, for example, in the Brigadoon entry, there are three full-color photos accompanying the main text (including two with great views of the set), a sidebar on Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Lowe (with a black-and-white picture of the pair with Moss Hart) and a color picture of Julie Andrews and Richard Burton in Camelot. The pictures throughout the book are as varied as to include Elaine Stritch out-of-town in Sail Away, Betty Buckley in Triumph of Love, and Tommy Tune and Darcie Roberts in Busker Alley.

Personally, I’d buy Bloom and Vlastnik’s book on the 101 second-best musicals, 101 most mediocre musicals, and the 101 most miserable musicals if there’s this much important information and rare visuals to accompany them.

Broadway Yearbook series (1999-2000, 2000-2001, and 2001-2002) by Steven Suskin—This was a short-lived but cherished series in which Steven Suskin provided detailed analysis and discussion of all the Broadway shows from their respective seasons. Personally, the first two books were particularly nice because those were the first two years where I made trips to Broadway, so I saw some of the shows he discusses with the cast members he names. For me, it really is a beloved record to help me remember (jn addition to all the Playbills and souvenir programs I so carefully hauled home) those two glorious trips.

I hardly feel qualified to criticize Steven Suskin, who is not only extremely knowledgeable about theatre but is also a very skillful and witty writer. I will, however, endeavor to try.

Namely, I often find myself disagreeing with Suskin’s harsh words and interpretation of events. For example, I find his excellent analysis of the structure of Bells are Ringing to be pointless because musical comedy is an art, not a science, and the fact that the songs are unevenly distributed doesn’t matter in the face of what a fantastic show it is (Mel Brooks, by the way, is on my side in this). His harsh criticism of the text of the show seems particularly silly when, in the same book, he so highly praises 42nd Street, a show with a bloated book that I’m betting was written by a fifth grader.

Still, I find Suskin’s informative background information invaluable and his erudite criticism fascinating. In fact, when I disagree with him, I love the books even more. I can honestly say that by reading these books, I have learned much about storytelling in musical theatre and what critics expect of a show, priceless concepts for someone who wants to create.

I don’t think these books are still in publication, but they would be an invaluable addition to any musical theatre library.

Ever After by Barry Singer—This was another one of those books I bought and devoured in a very short time. It is essentially a collection of articles Singer wrote for The New York Times (thanks to Michael John LaChiusa for that info). In addition to being a fascinating read, this is another book that has dramatically shaped my theatrical worldview.

When I started writing my first musical, I was listening to a number of amazing contemporary theatre scores. This was around the time I began shopping at Barnes and Noble, searching for interesting CDs to buy from shows I’d never experienced—which ended up in my exposure to favorites like Triumph of Love, Side Show, Marie Christine, and Ragtime. This was coupled with then-recent touring productions of shows like Jekyll and Hyde, The Scarlet Pimpernel, Titanic, Les Miserables, and Parade. My first attempt at writing the show (which was without collaborators) was heavily influenced by these lush scores of emotionally charged ballads and anthems which I still cannot get enough of. However, in analyzing the list, only a few of those ran long enough to recoup their original investment.

And, as in life, the right role models are so important in art.

But as I read Barry Singer’s book, I gained insights into these and other shows, understanding what audiences want and what critics (usually the door-keepers to any show) perceive. It took a few years of my opus lying dormant on my computer before I understood what needed fixing, but when I did, Barry Singer’s perspective was crucial in coming to see it for myself.

Plus, I love books on contemporary theatre. When I read a book on musical theatre, I want it to be contemporary, so I can learn what is happening now. I also appreciate being able to read about productions of shows I’ve seen. I want to know what people think of Jane Eyre and The Scarlet Pimpernel. I will probably vehemently disagree with what they have to say, but I love learning that new perspective.

The Happiest Corpse I’ve Ever Seen by Ethan Mordden—For many of the same reasons as with Singer’s book, I devoured Ethan Mordden’s book when I finally got it. Here is a discussion of contemporary musical theatre with smart observations and interesting analyses. Invaluable for me was his very strong coverage of the dark ages of the 1980s, where he details what sounds like some pretty fantastically awful shows I never even knew existed (save for Starmites, which I regretfully experienced first hand in a high school production).

I love Mordden’s style which, while a little showy in the superfluous wordy footnotes department and the tossing around of fancy foreign words, is lively and engaging. His style is such that, after reading The Happiest Corpse I’ve Ever Seen, I feel like I would know Mordden if I ever met him on the street. Perhaps someday I will.

Once again, I can’t say enough about how this book, like the Singer and Suskin books, has greatly impacted me as a wanna-be-produced librettist (by the way, that one’s for you, Mr. Mordden). I love theatre, I love musical theatre, and I just want to soak it all up to write the best I can.

I’ve read many theatre books, though I have a great many more to go. While I haven’t been there yet to know the best advice to give to other people in my shoes, where I stand now, I don’t think I could say enough about Making It on Broadway, Everything Was Possible, Broadway Musicals: The Greatest Shows of All Time, Steven Suskin’s Broadway Yearbook series, Ever After, and The Happiest Corpse I’ve Ever Seen as fascinating reads that will shape how you view any writing task before you.

As for The TheaterMania Guide to Musical Theater Recordings and Let’s Put on a Musical!, they are fun reads and valuable reference books. Personally, I wouldn’t want to part with them from my library.

the Broadway Mouth
September 8, 2007

Eight Top Ten Things to Guide You in Recording a Solo Album

2009-03-20T12:00:00.000-04:00

This list was originally posted August 23, 2007.

Emily Skinner wrote in the liner notes to her self-titled solo album:

“What I didn’t want was an ego trip of the ‘Songs I like to listen to myself sing the most’ type.”

I don’t know about everyone else, but I like those kind of ego trips! After all, if you don’t like to hear yourself sing the song, why the heck would anyone else want to hear it? Who cares who picks the songs as long as you sing them well?

I love a good solo album. It’s a delight to hear the stars I love singing songs I wouldn’t otherwise get to hear them sing. On message boards, people are always fantasizing about ideal casts and who they’d die to hear sing different parts. A solo album is a theatre fan’s chance to dream in stereo.

Though while we all love a good solo album, sinking your hard-earned money on a great voice underperforming on disc is a major letdown. Not only is it a waste of money if you don’t like the CD, even worse, it’s a waste of talent. It can also hurt that star’s chance of having a successful second album.

So, as an avid theatre fan, here are some guidelines for recording a solo theatre album that will entertain and delight your fans and hopefully win you a few more.

1. Theatre folk seem to like to pick the most obscure Broadway songs to sing. For example, Dorothy Loudon performed a song from Ballroom on the My Favorite Broadway: The Leading Ladies concert. I’ve read a ton about Broadway musicals, and I’ve never heard of that show. Audra McDonald chose a song from Hooray for What. She sang it well, but, um, it never stuck to the ribs, you know. Heather Headley sang “He Touched Me” on The Love Songs, and I still don’t know which show that’s from.

It’s understandable because an artist wants to have the chance to trod a path that few have trod. There are songs that, because they are so popular, have been performed by everyone and their YouTube-obsessed cousin. But if you are making a theatre CD, the selling point is going to be your awesome voice singing songs people have wanted to hear you sing or have wanted to have on disc.

So, guideline one is to select a variety of songs for your CD that are both new to your audience but also familiar. I like being introduced to new songs. It’s just that when you have a CD that is mostly new songs, it can be difficult to enter in without the hook of familiarity. Theatre songs are linked to stories, so if you are performing a song from a 1930s show that is no longer produced, it’s hard for people to follow your stories. At the same time, it’s nice to be introduced to new songs. It’s great to see a new show and have one or two of the songs in your back pocket to look forward to. A blend of the new and familiar is always a good mix to have.

2. Recording songs from shows that were never recorded, however, is a big bonus. I love that Emily Skinner brought in Alice Ripley to record a duet from James Joyce’s The Dead on her solo album. That’ll be one of the few chances I’ll ever have to hear anything from that score. Similarly, Matt Bogart’s “Tell My Father” from The Civil War, which was never recorded by a Broadway performer, is a highlight on his CD.

It’s also a joy for your fans to hear the songs you performed on stage as a replacement or tour cast member. Personally, I would love to have Merle Dandridge signing an Aida song or Kim Huber singing one of Belle’s songs. We theatre fans eat that sort of thing up. Feed us well!

3. If you want theatre people to buy your CD, do a theatre CD. Audra McDonald can pull off her solo albums because she has the marketing push behind her and has found crossover success. But if you do, say, a jazz CD, then don’t be surprised when it doesn’t sell well. I love Brian Stokes Mitchell, and I have no clue how his Playbill CD has sold. However, it was a jazz CD. Personally, I’m not interested in jazz. Jazz fans buy jazz CDs with jazz songs, and theatre fans buy theatre star CDs with theatre songs with theatre arrangements. Personally, I want a Brian Stokes Mitchell theatre CD, just not with jazz arrangements.

In fact, there is one beautiful theatre voice I won’t name who has permanently destroyed several aging pop songs for me because they were such a poor fit for her tremendous talents, and now I can’t bear the thought of hearing them again. Oh, if only she had recorded theatre songs!

That is not to say that there isn’t room for difference. For example, Adam Pascal’s rock albums are great. But he’s not taking “The Party’s Over” and turning it into a rock anthem. He’s got the voice to pull it off, and he’s doing rock songs. Similarly, Laura Bell Bundy has a country album out. She’s not directly reaching her Broadway fans. She’s not doing “For Good” with a country twang. I’m sure many of her fans will go along for the ride, but she knows her primary audience for the album isn’t Broadway.

So if you want to primarily sell your theatre voice, do theatre songs! And do them with theatre arrangements.

4. Give us theatre interpretations. I love Susan Egan’s solo album So Far. In addition to Egan’s great voice, she gives us a theatre CD in which she sings theatre songs as if she was in the show. That’s really the ideal album for the theatre fan.

I think of as an example the two Fantasia solo albums, both which have not sold to Fantasia’s American Idol fanbase. Fantasia earned a billion votes by singing one style, then produced two albums in a completely different style. She’s probably happy with their R & B integrity and how they reflect the kind of music she wants to do, but she’s not making the kind of music people voted for her singing. The result is that her sales reflect that. It’s the same analogy for theatre albums. If people are buying your CD because they liked what they saw on a Broadway stage (or on YouTube or on an OBCR or whatever), then determine what level of success you want to have before releasing the solo album that deviates from it.

Also, if you do have traditional theatre interpretations, do your character analysis work. A theatre song is not intended to be sung only by hitting the notes. Even if you can hit amazing notes, there’s more to a theatre song than that. That’s actually really boring. Unfortunately, I bought a CD by a theatre star whom I esteem highly, but his CD is so boring. It’s like a solo choir concert—a performance lacking emotion.

5. Make sure that the sound quality is top notch. There are a few CDs out there with great voices I won’t name that sound like they were recorded in a tin can in a basement. The vocals are strong, but they don’t have a clear audio quality. If you’re going to go through the process of recording your voice, do it justice!

6. If you do a gospel album, you’re not allowed to be photographed without a significant percentage of your clothing for a ten-year time span. Jubilant Sykes (from the Encores! Bloomer Girl), for example, did an album that showcased his voice beautifully through Gospel songs in 1998. He’s never been photographed without a majority of his clothing. And he’s got one year to go.

7. As for arrangements, if you can’t finance a full accompaniment, follow the example Chuck Wagner set on his self-named solo album. I once read how many instruments he used, and while I don’t recall that number, I do know the final tracks don’t sound like they were done on a budget. The ideal is a full orchestra, but if you can’t do that, be creative.

8. Do an album. Actually record it. I don’t know the financial aspect of recording a solo album, but there are plenty of people out there who need to do a solo theatre album—Carolee Carmello, Rachel York, Donna Murphy, Brian d’Arcy James, Anthony Crivello, and Norm Lewis all come to mind.

When I think of great solo theatre albums, several come to mind as great examples. One of those is Matt Bogart’s Simple Song album. His song selection is a mixture of classics, contemporary, and rare. A sampling of the seventeen tracks include “Soliloquy” from Carousel (classic), “I Don’t Hear the Ocean” from Marie Christine (contemporary), and “Proud Lady” from The Baker’s Wife (rare). I know that when I finally get to see The Baker’s Wife (or Anyone Can Whistle), because of Bogart’s album, I’ll have something to which I can look forward.

In his own words (from the liner notes), his “aim was to create a theatre album where I could bring the appropriate theatricality to each of these pieces as though I were simply performing them live and on stage . . . I feel these theatre songs demand a certain attention be paid to their design to tell a specific story.” As Michael John LaChiusa also writes in the liner notes, Bogart understands that a song “needs no embellishment, no ego-driven interpretation.” And because of this, it’s an extraordinarily effective album. When I hear his “Written in the Stars,” I feel like I’m sitting in the theatre watching the show.

I’ve never seen Matt Bogart perform, but the CD showcases his talents beautifully. The songs use traditional arrangements, but he makes them his own through his theatrical character-driven interpretations. Because there is a mixture of songs, you can focus on hearing the new ones for the first time and take the time to figure them out, while enjoying the better-known songs instantly. There’s also a blending of different styles of songs, so it doesn’t feel like one long ballad or you don’t skip ahead to the songs that have a different tempo just for a change of pace. It is a well-rounded CD that perfectly showcases Matt Bogart’s talents.

In thinking about Bogart’s Simple Song CD and Susan Egan’s So Far, both produced for Jay Records by John Yap, I wonder why this Yap fellow isn’t doing this with other people. He should be calling Sutton Foster, Brent Carver, or Marla Schaffel.

So . . . In short, don’t forget your roots. If you want to do something different, then go completely different. But after that, come back and do a theatre CD. We love your voice. It’s just that there’s a lot of CDs out there vying for our money, and we want to spend it on what we love.

the Broadway Mouth
August 23, 2007

Amplification: Back to Before?

2009-03-18T12:00:00.001-04:00

Here is one on amplification on Broadway from August 18, 2007. This is one of those topics that never seems to go away.

One of the theatrical controversies that always pops up in theatre books, documentaries, and message boards is the microphone debate. I’ve honestly never heard a great voice un-miced, which I think would be an awesome experience, but there are other considerations to take in mind when it comes to this issue. It’s about so much more than just actors on Broadway being able to sing with that kind of projection and clarity.

First of all, we have to acknowledge what Marin Mazzie said in one of the American Theatre Wing seminars, which is that microphones in the theatre allow for a more nuanced style of acting. Everything still needs to be sold to the back balcony, but it can be taken down a notch because the voice isn’t required to do so much work. We still have some remnants of that style of acting left on Broadway, but it’s still often prevalent in high school and community theatres when big facial expressions and gestures replace genuine emotion. Thank God that’s slowly going the way of the dinosaurs! By today’s standards, set by film and television, the sort of acting un-miced on a stage in a theatre the size of the Palace, the Broadway, or most touring houses would require would be a major turn-off.

The presence of microphones has also allowed for more naturalistic staging. Not everything has to be sold out front all the time anymore. Book scenes can happen with one character facing the back of the stage, turning around, or whatever. I’ve often wondered how spectacular the revered acting performances of the past would seem today now that we have the ability for more nuance in acting style and staging.

We also need to acknowledge that audiences have changed. Cameron Macintosh said this in the Broadway: The Golden Age documentary, that modern audiences require amplification. When I attend reputable regional theatres that don’t have amplification, it’s a major frustration for the first twenty minutes or so because you do miss words or partial phrases. It’s not even the actors. It’s that guy with the cough, the woman with the squeaking seat, or the guy who needs to take his pill twenty minutes in. These are common occurrences in the theatre, and the presence of amplification takes these distractions away.

Heck, even in a movie theatre I get annoyed if the promised THX or DTS sound doesn’t kick in. I panic about not being able to hear properly or easily get distracted by popcorn crunching or soda slurping. Of course you settle in and survive, blocking out the distractions, but as an average person from the generation of stereos, headphones, car stereos, and concerts, my ability to block out distractions and hear clearly is limited. Add to that any other theatrical distractions (like air conditioning in theatres as one sound person pointed out), and you have someone paying $120 for a show they can’t hear clearly.

Then there are the shows that require amplification. Amplification, for example, pumped Tarzan with some much-needed energy. Other shows with rock scores require, by the nature of the genre of music, to be amped. You can’t have Amneris rocking out “My Strongest Suit” and not have those guitars and drums pulsing through the theatre.

I particularly hate when people use this issue as an excuse to attack actors. There are plenty of people out there who could do classic shows eight performances a week without microphones. As someone on the Broadway World message board recently pointed out, many modern scores are too taxing to perform eight times a week without amplification. Could you imagine trying to be Jekyll/Hyde without it? Or Aida? Or Eva Peron? But there are plenty of actors who could do traditional scores without mics.

But more importantly, there are many, many more who could easily learn to do it. There are the Betty Buckleys of this world who are born with pipes o’ steal, but that’s not a requirement. It’s usually about technique. Actors don’t develop that part of their voice because it’d be a waste of time. There’s no need to spend time learning to sing in a huge Broadway theatre without amplification because that’s not the scenario anymore. We have nuance now. In the old days, if Gertrude Lawrence, Sam Levine, Gwen Verdon, and Barbara Harris could do it—all extremely talented people who starred in un-miced musicals but were not known for strong singing voices—then there’s no reason why most contemporary performers couldn’t learn to do it too. Right now, I can’t drive a semi-truck, but with the proper training, there’s no reason I couldn’t do it. It’s the same thing for actors and singing un-amped.

This is not to say that amplification is the ideal. When I went to Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, I sat in the orchestra section under the balcony in the Imperial Theatre, and the speakers sounded like $99.99 Wal-Mart specials. When that happens, it just takes time for your ears to adjust and get used to it. So if there is amplification, the speakers have to be of a quality to help make the sound appear to be natural, not like it’s emitting from a tin can.

I also remember sitting in the front of the balcony for the tour of Titanic and literally being unable to make out 85% of what the men were saying because the sound system was such crap. This was really sad because it was the first Broadway show for two of my friends, and they really didn’t get much out of it for obvious reasons. The actors were doing their thing. The producers and the theatre were the problem.

I will agree that no mics would be best. I’ve often sat close to the stage, wondering what it would sound like if there were not speakers audibly sending out sound from my right or left. But I also know that I appreciate the benefits that amplification brings—namely nuanced acting and staging techniques, not to mention the comfort of hearing comfortably. Personally, I’d love to go to un-amplified concerts, but as for my Broadway shows, I want to enjoy the story without any distraction.

the Broadway Mouth
August 18, 2007

Broadway Revivals: The Right Canvas

2009-03-16T12:00:00.000-04:00

I originally posted this one on July 6, 2007.

Important English teacher philosophy: You breathe in by reading, and you breathe out by writing.

Writers read, and what you read influences how you write. I love reading the likes of Willa Cather and Jane Austen and Richard Wright because I learn so much and it inspires me to write things that aspire to their heights.

There’s been a lot of discussion about revivals on Broadway and how they take up space for new works. As someone who wants to write those new works, I really hope there’s plenty of space for new works. When my times comes, I don’t want to have to wait two years for a theatre to open.

At the same time, we need something to breathe in. As I said in a blog last month, I loved seeing The Color Purple and The Wedding Singer, but I still don’t think many of the big shows of today yet compare with the big shows of the past. You’ve got to have amazing, flawless works staring down at you as you write so you can ask yourself, is this even close to being as good as Kiss Me, Kate (or The Music Man or Guys and Dolls or The King and I)?

On Broadway you get the best performers, the best directors, the best choreographers. Where else but Broadway could you get Brian Stokes Mitchell as Fred Graham, Faith Prince as Ella Peterson, Kelli O’Hara as Babe Williams, or Michael Cerveris as Sweeney Todd?

There are tons of productions of any number of great classic musicals all over the country. At any given time, I can see a high school doing Anything Goes, a college doing Guys and Dolls, a community theatre doing Annie, and maybe even an Equity production of The Music Man. In fact, I’ve seen them all, but none of them have come close to seeing them on Broadway. I live in a city with a very large theatre community, but we generally get 2-5 Equity productions of great Broadway musicals a year, and there’s typically nothing to compare with the Paper Mill Playhouse or the Pasadena Playhouse.

The first time I saw The Music Man, it was at a community theatre. It was an okay show, but I didn’t walk away in awe of an amazing score or libretto. When I walked out of the Susan Stroman revival, however, I felt like I had seen a spectacular show.

That’s because nobody does it like Broadway. Seeing a community theatre production of Oliver! is comparable to watching an epic film like Gone With the Wind on DVD. It’s better than not seeing it at all, but it’s the way the show was meant to be seen.

Not only does Broadway do them better, Broadway provides opportunities for shows to get produced that wouldn’t otherwise be seen. I think I could die without ever seeing a middling local production of Bells are Ringing; Kiss Me, Kate; The Pajama Game; Sweet Charity; 110 in the Shade; and a host of others, let alone a first-class Broadway production surrounded by first-class Equity talent.

In fact, I wish people like Tommy Tune who, in the Rick McKay documentary DVD, complain about revivals taking up New York theatres, would put their money where their mouths are and direct great touring productions of classic shows that haven’t been tampered with (like the Michael York Camelot was revised). He could give us Broadway names in Call Me Madam, Gypsy, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, and a host of other shows that would help fill out the gaps between great new Broadway shows coming into town on tour.

The good news is that all Broadway musicals are a gamble. You have the revivals that make money, like Kiss Me, Kate and A Chorus Line, but then you have those that don’t run long and probably don’t make money—Wonderful Town, Sweet Charity, Bells are Ringing. So, people get a chance to see these amazing shows, they run their season, and they generally quickly open up space for new productions, just like new shows do the same thing.

Mame is a Broadway musical, and it was meant to be seen on Broadway. You can see the Mona Lisa in a book, but if you are really passionate about experiencing and studying art, you don’t settle for a book in the library. If new creators want more new musicals, then they need to create shows that deserve that space, both to inspire the next generation of writers and to delight audiences to keep them coming back to Broadway. Until then, revivals play an important part not only in providing opportunities to see these great shows in the way they were meant to be seen but also in allowing the next generation of creators to learn from them.

Broadway Mouth
July 6, 2007

From the Mouth of Alan Jay Lerner

2009-03-13T11:57:00.000-04:00

This has been one of my favorite blogs to quote because what Lerner writes here is so relevent, even all these years later. I originally posted this on July 1, 2007.

When I wrote the blog entry “A Hundred Million Miracles,” I did so because I wanted to share something exciting I had found with the people who read my blog. I am very thankful to those who upload footage onto You Tube and Blue Gobo because it’s all about education. The more I can see of, say, Gwen Verdon from the original Sweet Charity, the more I can learn. Theatre is a living art form. You can gain much from reading about the great performances and from hearing first hand accounts, but until you see Heather Headley and Adam Pascal singing “Elaborate Lives” or see Gower Champion’s original “Before the Parade Passes By” choreography, you can never fully understand.

So below, I’ve scanned in the foreword to the published Paint Your Wagon libretto from which I quoted in my “Hello and Faux” blog entry. It is entitled “Advice to Young Musical Writers” and is written by Alan Jay Lerner himself. Reading this article really gave me perspective on a number of the current trends on Broadway.

The longer I study Broadway, how true it seems to me that the more things change, the more they stay the same. In the Rick McKay documentary Broadway: The Golden Age and on the DVD bonus features, a number of significant theatre folk acknowledge that people have been bemoaning the state of Broadway since the 1970s. In looking at this article, it’s clear that people have been bemoaning the state of Broadway much longer . . . even in the midst of the great Golden Age.

So I propose that we limit complaining, continue learning, continue creating, and continue to fight the good fight of getting a great show on Broadway.

Advice to Young Musical Writers
by Alan Jay Lerner

In recent years there has been an ever-increasing number of adaptations in the theater and, by consequence, a steady decline of original works. This has been especially-true of the musical play (musical play as opposed to musical comedy). There have actually been only three successful original musical plays in the last decade. This dearth has frequently been mentioned in the press, and when it has been, it has always been accompanied by a mournful cry for more fresh creation. As one who has written four originals, the one between these covers included, let me hereby warn all aspiring authors and composers to stuff their ears with cotton and pay no heed to this soulful wail. No one, neither critic nor public, is clamoring for originality. The only desire is for something good. And to be good is quite original enough. If you create a total work that finds general acceptance, no mention will be made of what you have done. If it's unsuccessful, no one will commend you for your effort and encourage you to continue. All this I can state as a positive fact. And though it may seem edged with bitterness, I can assure you it is not. I have always been fully aware of the folly of that end of my endeavor and have often cursed the ambition that drives me. But with it all, my rewards in the musical field have been far in excess of what I truthfully feel I have contributed. No, my reasons for the above advice are sound and practical and come from one who loves his trade and has deep respect for it as a medium of expression.

The lyric theater is the one, and only one, true invention that has been made in theatrical form for many years. It is also a purely American creation; so American, in fact, is this subtle interweaving of word, song, and dance, that no other country has even been able to approach it. Because it is new, it also has great possibilities for development. And with a public that is searching for escape almost more avidly than it did during the war, there is a large, waiting audience. But there is also a problem. And this problem is a serious one. The spank in the machine is that there are very few people writing musicals. I don't believe there are more than a dozen composers, librettists, and lyricists in all who are regular practitioners and who have committed their careers to the musical stage. Not only that, but of that number no more than three, possibly four, have been developed in the past ten years. The rest have been the backbone of our musical theater since the twenties and early thirties.

There are a myriad of reasons why this should be so. The most important one, however, is economic. Although there are many struggling neophytes composing musical plays, the cost of production these days is so astronomical that investors are reluctant to trust their funds to any but the tried and true. The hazard is further increased by the fact that the cost of attending a musical has risen so that although there is a public longing for entertainment, people are unwilling to risk the price of a ticket unless they have been assured by the press that the evening will be a rewarding one. This means there is no room for the moderate success. A musical show is either a smash hit or it will invariably be a financial failure. And to increase the hazard even more, favorable notices by a majority of the eight New York critics are not sufficient. There are two of the eight writing for the daily press who must be pleased above all. Survival without their blessing is relatively impossible; even though survival with their blessing is not absolutely guaranteed. All of this naturally has immediate effects on the economic and emotional plight of the author and composer. How long can they continue writing without seeing production of, and receiving remuneration for, their efforts? Where do they make mistakes and thus learn? And how long can anyone endure without some sign of encouragement?

And so I return to my early thesis. With the risks being what they are—and I have only mentioned a few of the multitude—your chances not only of reaching production but achieving success will be inestimably enhanced if you begin with a book, a short story, a motion picture, or a play that has already been approved by public and critic alike. The value of the basic story cannot be exaggerated. There is often a general tendency to regard the book of a musical as of little consequence. This is especially true when the musical is a success. But let the opening night be a two and a half hour wake and you will read the next morning how neither the cast, the music, the scenery, nor the dancing was able to overcome the inept plot. I can tell you the book is all-essential. It is the fountain from which all waters spring. So start off on the right foot and select a story that is all prepared for you. The translation of that story to musical form is quite complex enough. Within that frame you will find more than adequate challenge to your originality and enough on which to experiment.

January 25, 1952

Originally published as a foreword to the published libretto of Paint Your Wagon

MLA Citation Information:
Lerner, Alan Jay. Foreword. Paint Your Wagon. Coward-McCann, 1952. vii-ix.

(Blogger doesn't allow for underlining, but please be aware that MLA requires titles of plays to be underlined instead of italicized.)

Please Note: I would just like to acknowledge that I am a big fan of copyrights, having ownership of a few of them myself. My intent in posting this piece of copyrighted work is solely education. I make no money from this blog. Since it has been long out of print, I trust that by posting it, I am not taking away from any earning potential from those who own the copyright.

I would be a happy camper if I got an email saying that this essay was going to be collected into a new collection of articles about Broadway over the past century, and therefore, I needed to remove it; however, since that seems sadly unlikely, I make it available. If you are the owner of this copyright and would like me to remove it, please contact me.

Broadway Mouth
July 1, 2007

The Road They Didn't Take: Fixing Follies

2009-03-12T12:54:00.001-04:00

This has probably been my most popular column, originally posted June 27, 2007.

When I walked into the Belasco Theatre on Wednesday, June 13, 2001, I was entirely clueless about Follies. By this point, I had seen quite a few Broadway tours, had been following Broadway online often, had been to New York once before where I had seen quite a few shows, and had gotten into the habit of buying Cast Recordings quite often. Yet, I didn’t know exactly what Follies was or how significant Sondheim is (trust me, I’ve since made up for it and then some).

But in seeing Follies for the first time, all that worked to my benefit because I also didn’t know how “Loveland” was supposed to look or how Phyllis was supposed to sing or how “I’m Still Here” was supposed to be staged or anything.

So that night when the lights went down . . . Oh, what a show!

Immediately when the ghosts of the follies past entered, I was captivated. They were humans on stage, but it really was as if they were from another world. As the story unfolded, I was stunned by the storytelling, the past commenting on the present, the present living in the past. I can still remember how my insides churned with excitement during “Who’s That Woman” and after that, how Polly Bergen stopped the show with “I’m Still Here” in the way that stars used to stop shows. Then came “Loveland,” and I just couldn’t get enough of those songs and what they were expressing and how. The entire evening was astounding, exciting, imagination-inspiring.

At the end of the night, I left the Belasco almost speechless. The story seemed like that of a straight play, but the music pulled it deeper psychologically. I wanted to get my hands on the libretto because I felt like I had been so dazzled that I needed to read the ending again to understand it all.

When I returned home, no matter how I tried, I couldn’t fully communicate to people the excitement that was Follies. Unless you see it for yourself or read the libretto with a vivid imagination, I don’t think an average person could fully grasp that show.

But now matter how excited I was about the show itself, the story that really piqued everyone’s interest happened at the stage door.

At this time, I was still waiting at the stage door to meet the stars of the shows I had seen. In this cast, I knew who Marge Champion was and knew who Betty Garret was from Laverne and Shirley. Marni Nixon I knew, as well as Treat Williams and Erin Dilly. But by the end of the show, I was a big fan of everyone involved and so desperately wanted to meet them. Unlike most other shows I had been to that week, only a small gaggle of fans gathered outside this theatre, but we still scrambled as each diva exited.

As if each performer wasn’t generating enough excitement, Blythe Danner walked out with daughter Gwyneth Paltrow (star of the movie Emma, which I love) beside her. Thankfully, people were very respectful, though, as you can imagine, excited to see such a film star. I was more interested in meeting her mother after such a riveting performance in a riveting show. I politely asked Ms. Danner if I could have my picture taken with her, and she said yes, but because I was alone, I didn’t have anyone to take the picture. Used to this, I turned to the people around me and said, “Could anyone take our picture?” to which a certain Academy-Award winning actress said shyly, raising her hand timidly, “I could.”

“Oh my gosh, I just had my picture taken by Gwyneth Paltrow!” I said after thanking Phyllis Rogers Stone for a spectacular performance and Gwyneth Paltrow for taking the picture. At that very moment, Marge Champion came out, so I let other people grab at the movie star while I met Ms. Champion who, for the record, is much sweeter in person than she is on stage in Elaine Stritch’s show.

When I got pictures with a few other stars from the show, I turned to see mother and daughter movie star walking down the street, knowing that now away from the stage door, they deserved their personal time without my interruption. I never regretted not getting my picture with her because, well, she wasn’t in the show. I am, after all, a movie fan who is a die hard Broadway baby.

For the record, Gwyneth Paltrow takes a very fine snapshot, and I’d sell my camera on eBay for oodles of money if I could prove her fingerprints were on it.

So anyway, about a year or so after seeing the show, I discovered that the Follies libretto was available and bought it.

It’s amazing how truthfully Follies deals with the issues of the past and our response to it. Every time I read it, I connect with the events and the characters more deeply. And the more people I know getting married, getting divorced, and even re-connecting after divorce, the more I can see how the show mirrors life.

Recently, I finally read Ted Chapin’s soon-to-be legendary book Everything Was Possible, in which he describes with great detail the laborious rehearsal period for the original Hal Prince/Michael Bennett production. In addition to being a fascinating read because it details the creation of Follies, it gives you a stripped-away, glam-less documentation of the making of a Broadway musical (which, for the record, has a great many similarities with directing plays at the high school level, which I found fascinating).

Reading it shed a great deal of light on why Follies is the way that it is, which is brilliant but, to my opinion, not perfect.

The Cause
As a writer, you generally have an idea of where you want your story to go. The journey getting there might be unclear, but you have a clear idea of where you want to go and how. You then build your work to ready your audience for that end.

The problem in the creation of Follies was that there were several key pieces missing from the plot puzzle for a significant portion of the rehearsal period. With the exception of “Losing My Mind,” the songs for the final follies sequence—“You’re Gonna Love Tomorrow,” “Love Will See Us Through,” “The God-Why-Don’t-You-Love-Me Blues,” “The Story of Lucy and Jesse,” and “Live, Laugh, Love” were not written. And Phyllis was actually set to sing “Losing My Mind.”

The older actors were really struggling with some of the material. In fact, Chapin says that, for the entire run of the show, several of them regularly botched their songs. “Who’s That Woman” was particularly challenging for the older women, and Michael Bennett and his team worked tirelessly with them to get it down. Because of that, can you imagine what it must have been like to have only begun to conquer all that dancing and music . . . then to be handed “The Story of Lucy and Jesse” or “The God-Why-Don’t-You-Love-Me Blues”? When reading Chapin’s book, by the time these songs are ready and the show is complete, you can almost feel the sigh of relief from everyone involved in the production just at the thought of having a complete show . . . and that’s without having the show entirely on its feet. There would have been no way to make major changes to the conclusion or to the opening without threatening the ability of the cast to pull it off. Also, I doubt there was time for anyone to really sit back and objectively observe and reflect on how the story came together and how it should be altered. The result was that the show never fully comes together thematically.

Unjustly, James Goldman tends to get much of the brunt of this criticism, but if you look at the timing when those songs were completed, the amount of work that was still before the cast, and the break-neck pace at which everyone was working . . . The guy deserves a break for even having had a chance to write anything for the actors to do after Ben’s breakdown. Even if he had had the time to understand what changes needed to be made, there would have been no way he could actually implement them without risking the whole show.

The Problems
I humbly submit these as the key problems with Follies. Please note that these thoughts are largely derived from the edition of the play published by Theatre Communications Group after the 2001 revival, carrying a copyright date of 2001 by James Goldman. If you haven’t seen Follies, I highly recommend you pick up this relatively inexpensive book and read it as soon as you can. I know that there is an older edition published with the text of the original Broadway show. In my dream world, I would have copies of each libretto; however, right now I don’t, so my comments reflect the currently published edition.

First of all, as Steven Suskin points out in his Broadway Yearbook 2000-2001, the placement of Ben’s song as last and the show pivoting on his breakdown sort of makes him the main character. The problem is that the show isn’t about Ben Stone. Suskin does mention how the actress playing Phyllis Rogers Stone typically gets top billing, which would indicate Phyllis as the main character; however, billing isn’t always connected with the size of the role. For example, Dorothy Brock gets top billing in 42nd Street (and wins Leading Actress awards), but it is the character of Peggy Sawyer on which the major dramatic question of the show rests (and who gets the most stage time). This structural dilemma in Follies is understandable because of the stress in constructing the show. As Suskin points out, a show about follies girls should not be centered on a man. With this ending the show seems to be about Ben, but I don’t think the creative team could have done anything to set it up differently at that stage.

Secondly, the characters leave the reunion returning to their original spouses without there being any indication of their ability to do things differently. Each character goes through a moment of self reflection in the follies sequence’s songs, but they never come to a conclusion. For example, Phyllis identifies her problem, but there’s no resolve. The ending never indicates that Lucy and Jesse will finally combine. This makes for an unsatisfactory ending because the characters never really make a decision; their choices just seem to happen as if there’s nothing better to do. The audience cannot believe that these couples will be truly happy, and an unhappily ever after ending doesn’t comment on any other part of the show or fit into a grand thematic statement. There’s nothing elsewhere in the musical to suggest that there’s a good reason for them to have to be unhappy.

As I said earlier, when I left the theatre, I felt like I needed to read the ending to fully realize its deeper meaning. When I finally read the play, what I realized was that there were no deeper meanings to get. That’s because, again, the ending seems disconnected from the rest of the show.

Thirdly, the cause of all this mess is never entirely clear. It is known that Sally gave it out, so to speak, too quickly, and she even acknowledges this in her fight with Young Sally. However, why Ben picked Phyllis (who seems to have given it out as well) when he really loved Sally is never clear. And not only is it not clear, but it’s very important because Ben’s choice is the impetus for everyone’s regrets. This lack of meat in the flashback scenes robs the current plot of its substance. Number one, it makes the events seem more like those in a soap opera, and number two, the psychology of the characters that is so brilliantly depicted in the follies sequence lacks drive or substance.

One could carp about the lack of humor in the show, as Michael Bennett did, but to go through adding more zingers would tamper with Goldman’s style. Besides, as Foster Hirsch noted in his book Harold Prince and the American Musical Theatre (Expanded Edition), the original production wasn’t lit or set brightly enough for humor. It is my supposition that the show requires a darker set because of the nature of the characters’ struggles and the need to bathe the ghosts in a supernatural light, so adding humor to the libretto would also be somewhat futile.

Lastly, one could argue that the show never really says anything concretely, though the makings of some themes are present. It more so presents ideas—the futility of regret, the dangers of living in the past, the naiveté of youth, the nature of youthful marriage—without ever commenting on them (in the way that straights plays do, like The Crucible, A Raisin in the Sun, Death of Salesman, or Sweet Birth of Youth). Sondheim’s shows tend to contain a myriad of ideas, but Follies, by its serious nature, can’t remain observations, at least not in its current form. It needs to complete the statement its unique structure feels like its building to.

Some Fixes
Ideally, someone would be able to take Goldman’s book and, with a concrete driving theme in mind, restructure it to fit in all of Goldman’s original ideas and align them with Sondheim’s ideas without damaging Goldman’s tone and sensibilities. It would be a cut and paste job with many of the same scenes happening, perhaps just in a slightly different order.

As I outline some potential solutions, I do think it’s important to note that, without the ability to fully cut and paste, I don’t know if anyone could really build to a concrete driving theme. Still, I’d like to propose some fixes within Goldman’s current libretto.

The first big change needs to be a clarification of why Ben chose Phyllis when he clearly preferred Sally. It is made clear that Ben wants to be a big success, so perhaps there could be something that happens to indicate that while he loves Sally’s childlike nature, he wants to love Phyllis’s maturity and sophistication. In other words, he really prefers to shop at Wal-Mart, but he wants to want to shop at Macy’s because it’s classier. Ben’s desire to be rich and have the best is very clear, but the connection of his choice of Phyllis needs to be as clear as well.

There needs to be something in the follies sequence that allows the characters to make a choice that foreshadows/builds to the ending. It would be better to break concept and allow the audience to leave the theatre wholly satisfied than to hold rigidly to the concept and leave the audience cheated. In my mind, these choices look like this:

Buddy: In the final chorus of “The God-Why-Don’t-You-Love-Me Blues,” he sings it with caricatures of Margie and Sally. On the final line or note, perhaps he could dip Sally with a kiss, while Sally’s extended leg could kick Margie away. This would indicate his choice.

Sally: Sally is really in love with her personal rendering of Ben Stone. Her entire adult life has been whiled away reliving memories of a man who never was. When, at the end of “Losing My Mind,” she sings, “You said you loved me, / Or were you just being kind?” there should be a pause. A spotlight shines on Young Ben passionately making out with Young Phyllis in their follies costumes. Sally hears this behind her and reluctantly confronts the past she’s desperately tried to suppress. She looks back, finally sees the truth that she’s denied up until this point, then turns to the audience, belting, “Or am I losing my mind?”

Phyllis: In a change of the traditional staging, when the chorus boys come on to back Phyllis during “The Story of Lucy and Jesse,” a caricature of Lucy and Jesse also hit the stage. Choreography could echo the problem indicated in the story. In the final moment of the song, perhaps after its ended, Phyllis should take the hand of each caricature to indicate her desire to get them together quick. This could be done in the button of the song or as a bow after the music has ended.

Ben: I don’t think the idea of a breakdown fully suits the moment, particularly a breakdown of the evening’s events. If anything, the breakdown should consist of the Young counterparts re-singing their follies songs in a psychedelic manner, since it is the past that haunts him, not the other present-day characters.

I think it’s okay to end on Ben’s follies because it doesn’t have to be the climax of the show, and the truth is that the fate of the other three characters hinged on his choice of Phyllis back in the day. Because of this, their ability to overcome their present-day problems also hinges on his present-day choice.

In my mind, when the chorus keeps singing and he’s shouted out his whole “Look at me. I’m nothing” realization, the lights change instantly from follies to reunion, and Ben is left alone on stage, calling out Phyllis’s name with great panic.

The End: As Ben is silently, but with great panic, exiting the stage to find Phyllis before she leaves him, Sally enters. She calls out his name. He turns. She’s honest with him and makes the decision to not go with him, with which Ben eagerly agrees.

Buddy runs onstage and sees Sally with Ben. He pulls Sally aside and declares that he won’t let her leave with Ben. This is important because he needs to make the choice to pick Sally over Margie himself. Sally informs him that Ben was only a fantasy, maybe even saying that she just temporarily lost her mind (to tie the dream follies into real life). Now that Buddy is finally getting what’s he’s never been able to get, he realizes that he’s being confronted with his old problem (from his follies song). There’s a beat, a release. He hugs Sally to show that even though he’s got her, he still wants her. Perhaps Sally speaks a line about really loving Buddy, a gentle reflection on something endearing about him that she’s learned in the years since their youth, as if to say, “You were Plan B then, but now I see you were Plan A material all along.”

Some of the other characters come on for their final good-byes and reflections. Someone asks Ben where Phyllis went to, tells him to tell her it was great to see her again, and they leave. After these people exit, Ben is left alone. Young Ben comes behind him and calls out Phyllis’s name, surreptitiously as if in a scene from the past. Young Phyllis rushes on from the other side of the stage, whispering that it’s too late (as in, at night . . . but for the audience to understand differently in present context), for him to go home.

Then Phyllis re-enters through the theatre door. She calls out Ben’s name. The decision is now hers, and the climax rightfully rests on her shoulders. Perhaps a gentle “You’re Gonna Love Tomorrow” plays from the orchestra.

They key here is that Phyllis can no longer be the caustic, one-line hurling Phyllis of ten minutes ago. Lucy and Jessie have to take some steps toward combining. So she calls Ben’s name. Ben runs to her, saying his lines about “I need you, Phyl” and so on.

Young Ben would say something like, “Phyllis, please” to which Young Phyllis would respond, “Ben . . .”

One of Ben’s problems is that he feels unloved, and Phyllis has become “cold as a slab.” Phyllis isn’t going to feel comfortable enough to throw herself at Ben anymore, but it’s important to show that she’s willing to try, that they now have a chance to make it. Since Ben’s breakdown in “Live, Laugh, Love” has already happened, the audience can see his change of heart. Phyllis’s change needs to be made physical somehow.

So, awkwardly, Phyllis puts out her hand, clumsily caressing Ben’s shoulder. She looks at him a moment, then says, as the orchestra plays the orchestral “You’re Gonna Love Tomorrow,” “Come on, let’s get our coats.” At that, Young Phyllis runs into Ben’s arms, saying, “Oh, you know I can never resist you.” Phyllis and Ben exit, awkwardly holding hands, and the lights go out on the Young counterparts in embrace while the orchestra booms the final part of “You’re Gonna Love Tomorrow.”

So that’s how I would fix Follies. Though, maybe I’m losing my mind.

Broadway Mouth
June 27, 2007

Give Them What They Want / Za Ba Zoovee

2009-03-11T13:46:00.001-04:00

Originally posted June 12, 2007

My favorite entry in The TheaterMania Guide to Musical Theater Recordings has to be David Barbour’s summary of the plot of Aida.

After subduing the nation of Nubia, Radames brings back the Princess Aida (Heather Headley), with whom he promptly falls in love. The three of them proceed to scream their heads off for two acts—lamenting cruel fate, etc., etc.

Perhaps Al Hirschfeld, who was alive to see so much of American theatre in the past century, said it best in the great PBS documentary Broadway: The American Musical when he observed that the “form changes, and that’s difficult for a lot of people to accept. They’re stuck on one period, and they think that’s the period that’s important . . . It changes, and you have to roll with the punches, I think.”

What led to Broadway’s need for life support, as Elaine Stritch called it in the Rick McKay film Broadway: The Golden Age, was not because America fell out of step with the Broadway musical. Instead, as Frank Rich states in the PBS documentary, “Broadway was basically trying to ignore the 60s . . . [and the] Broadway musical [fell] out of sync with pop culture.”

Yes, we need to remind ourselves, Broadway used to be part of pop culture. Broadway albums would be purchased by people all over the country and hit high on the sales charts, much like if the Grey Gardens CD was right up there with Rihanna’s latest success in today’s terms.

Not only was it popular, but some songs were often written to be pop hits. For example, “Hey, There” was intended to be heard outside of The Pajama Game. Its lyrics were made specific to the character but general enough to reach a wide audience to promote the show, and it was skillfully reprised in the second act to reinforce its sell-ability. “If I Ever I Would Leave You” was played on the radio.

Broadway was also talked about and written about. Shows and their stars made the covers of major magazines. It was not uncommon to see performances on variety shows such as The Ed Sullivan Show. And even a mildly successful show, like The Unsinkable Molly Brown or Silk Stockings, made it to Hollywood.

So what’s wrong with Broadway catching up with the times?

Let me state that I agree that there is room for all sorts of different musicals—musical comedies, musical plays, pop operas, rock musicals, deconstructed musicals, linear musicals, and whatever else may arrive on the scene. Of my first three shows I’d like to see on a Broadway stage, none of them are pop or rock or anything threatening like that. But I don’t know why Broadway critics act as if shows like The Pirate Queen can’t coincide with shows like The Drowsy Chaperone. That really annoys me.

Part of the problem is that the average theatre-goer and critic is out of touch with the times. If you grew up with A Chorus Line being the ideal musical and that musical style defining what Broadway music should be, then how can you possibly connect with other styles of music that are currently on the scene or will come on the scene in years to come?

For example, if I listen to rap music, I can probably identify 1/19 of the words; however, if I bought several rap CDs, before long I’d be in the 18/19 range. My lack of understanding or appreciation of rap music doesn’t negate its nuances any more than a rap artist’s lack of understanding or appreciation of a Broadway ballad from the 1950s doesn’t negate its nuances. It’s more to do with the listener than the artist.

In his thought-provoking book The Happiest Corpse I’ve Ever Seen, Ethan Mordden laments the popification of Broadway with shows like Jekyll and Hyde, The Scarlet Pimpernel, and Hairspray (see: Note), arguing that pop music cannot be character specific. Perhaps it’s just that some critics don’t have an ear for the sound.

Several years ago, I heard a rock band at a free concert, and I immediately fell in love with their music. I have since expanded my listening to a variety of other bands, and what was once noise to me is now music. There are rock songs of all sorts and of all emotions. Rock didn’t all of a sudden become high quality—I just caught up with that boat. Now I could appreciate a rock show much more than I could have ten years ago.

Broadway is essentially a pop art, so why it doesn’t welcome pop music forms strikes me as a discordant note. If a show like Spring Awakening could get a song on the radio—either performed by one of its stars or covered by a hot act—it wouldn’t have needed eight Tonys to stay afloat. Even a show like The Wedding Singer, if the song were made into a contemporary pop song with some more generalized lyric alterations, could get “Right in Front of Your Eyes” or “If I Told You” on the radio. Not only would the show probably still be running, but it would attract a wider audience to Broadway shows in general and to tours. Get them once, and you’ll hook them for life.

That is not to say pop forms of music shouldn’t be held to the same standards. Yes, it should be character specific. Yes, the lyrics should have exact rhymes and be poetic. Yes, it should service story, character, and plot.

When Brooklyn came on tour, I took my godson to see it. Even though it was not a great show in terms of plot, he loved it. He’s a very intelligent young man; it’s just that the music spoke to him. It sounded something like the stuff on his iPod. To David Barbour, Diana DeGarmo might have been screaming, but to my godson and to me, it was awesome, power belting much like contemporary music stars do. It’s different than Rebecca Luker stepping out and hitting high notes at the end of “My White Knight,” but that doesn’t mean it’s not as good. It’s just different.

Jekyll and Hyde is one of the few shows in the past decade with original scores that have found life beyond its stage origins. Perhaps the lyrics aren’t Cole Porter, but it seems like most people criticize the show’s music for its pop aspirations. Well, shame on Frank Wildhorn for trying to reach a contemporary audience. How dare he! Memo to me: Put an end to that ASAP.

Let’s get on to more important shows like The Drowsy Chaperone, with its admittedly well-deserved Tony for Best Score. I can’t wait until I see kids singing “Fancy Dress” at their school’s variety show.

A lot of people like power belting. That’s what made Kelly Clarkson a favorite, put Whitney Houston on the map, and allowed Celine Dion to sell album after album after album until she was a gazillionaire. Perhaps Michael John LaChiusa (from his Opera News article) doesn’t care for power belting, but listen to an audience cheer after an actress “hollers an incomprehensible” rendition of “Defying Gravity” at the end of Act I in Wicked. That speaks for itself.

Broadway musicals are in such a vulnerable position. A film or television show can survive disastrous reviews. If movies survived like Broadway shows, National Treasure would have been a huge disaster. But sadly, the costs of attending shows on Broadway or on tour are such that audiences have to observe the reviews. The average theatre-goer isn’t attuned to any potential bias against non-Sondheim types of music, so when they read that a show like The Scarlet Pimpernel or Jane Eyre or Side Show is bad, they don’t risk their hard-earned money to see it.

Aida survived because it was Elton John and Disney. I love Aida. For the record, between Broadway and the tour, I saw it three times, and when I took a group of students and teachers to go, they all loved every minute of it. Watch an average person talk about their fondness for Les Miserables. Ask some theatre kids in Chugwater, Texas, and they’ll sing to you five or six songs from Wicked. Too bad none of them know how incomprehensible it is.

According to Steven Suskin in his awesome book Broadway Yearbook 1999-2000, six out of ten of the major critics panned Aida. Suskin himself states that “[n]othing in Aida was quite enough to impel you toward the Palace—Amneris’s or the Nederlanders’.” Perhaps if there had been something to impel you toward the Palace—obviously the Tony-award winning score, Henry David Hwang’s revised book, Heather Headley, Adam Pascal, Sherie Rene Scott, Matt Bogart, Simone, Will Chase, Merle Dandridge for one performance, Idina Menzel, Mandy Gonzalez, Maya Days, Wayne Cilento’s choreography, Bob Crowley’s sets and costumes, and Natasha Katz’s lighting simply weren’t enough—it might actually have run, right?

Broadway Mouth
June 12, 2007

Note: For the record, I vote that a show containing pop music over forty years old should officially be labeled pastiche because nothing like “You Can’t Stop the Beat” has been popular since Johnny Angel got Peggy Sue pregnant after prom. I know Mordden would probably call me stupid for saying this (or perhaps a purveyor of stupid shows), but I don’t see how much different this is from the music of Thoroughly Modern Millie, a show he generally enjoyed, which utilizes pop music from 77+ years ago.

If They Could See You Now

2009-03-10T12:14:00.000-04:00

Originally Posted June 22, 2007

Beth Leavel as the Drowsy Chaperone. Laura Benanti as Julia Sullivan. Sutton Foster as Eponine. Simone as Aida. Three significant characters in The Color Purple last August.

Yeah, I’ve got my fair share of those pesty little slips of paper saved in my Playbills to remember who I really saw in the role as opposed to who was originally listed. Sometimes it’s not a big deal. Like when you don’t know who Renee Elise Goldsberry is from Wilhema Van Butternose. Other times, it is a big deal—it’s someone you’ve seen before, read about, or has won a Tony—and you want to see that person in that role.

Truth be told, only a few times have I been sorely disappointed in seeing the understudies. At two different occasions, for example, I saw understudies for either of the Thenardiers, and they lacked either the vocal chops or the comedic skills to do justice to the roles; that was quite disappointing. But other times . . . You know, you can’t complain when you see Kenita R. Miller as Nettie or JoAnn M. Hunter as Lois Lane. And I still remember, quite vividly, how understudy Leslie Hendrix turned Eulalie Mackecknie Shinn into a comedic tour de force that made me howl in the Susan Stroman revival of The Music Man.

This understudy thing has become quite the issue of discussion. There are certain stars whom you hear repeatedly missing shows, either for known causes, such as illnesses, or for reasons up for gossip.

I love seeing Kaye Ballard discuss this shift in the times in Rick McKay’s Broadway: The Golden Age, saying that when she was in The Pirates of Penzance in 1982, “it was a joke! Every night it sounded like Nurse Ratched. ‘This one will be out, that one will be out, this one will be out. Someone’s breaking in a new pair of shoes; they’re not coming in tonight’ . . . I never saw anything like it.” In her sixteen months in Carnival!, she missed one performance when she had a temp of 104. Similarly, Carol Channing has been infamous for missing only one performance as Dolly Levi in her entire career, a result of food poisoning, but still going on to perform through cancer treatments, broken bones, and all sorts of illnesses. Ethel Merman was another star known for never missing performances.

While we should look back to see the examples set for us, it’s also important to note that there is a shift and that there are also several other factors going on.

First of all, times are different. The older generation in general valued work above all. I grew up in the generation of day care, latchkey kids, and two parents working. Quality family time was replaced with quality family purchases. It was the norm to put family first by putting work before family time.

I don’t think we can criticize people for choosing some things, like their children, over a performance. Twenty years from now, the applause will be history, but those children will live on, better people for having their parents there when they were needed. Those kids will fondly look back on vacation times taken with their parents and Thanksgiving dinners spent together, with an understudy going on for dad. I think, as a culture, we learned from the mistakes of our parents, and we’ve reacted to that. You hear about how people in general are working fewer hours and are sacrificing job for family in other professions—why not on Broadway? Who knows what mysterious reason people are out of shows—How do we know that there’s not a child going through rehab or a friend going through cancer who needs help?

And sometimes you hear of people taking time off to see a spouse’s concert or to take advantage of another opportunity. Ideally for their fans, their priorities would be the show, but . . . even Broadway stars are people. How can we criticize the value-based personal choices people make in such a situation? You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your marriage to be on Broadway. People did it in the good old days, but that doesn’t mean it was the right decision.

The requirements of roles have changed considerably as well. In the bonus features on the Rick McKay film, Ruthie Henshall jokes about the vocal ranges that stars are expected to have these days. Yes, stars back in the days didn’t have amplification, so they were still working hard, but I have a feeling that Sally Adams in Call Me Madam, for example, is half as vocally demanding as Brooklyn, Jekyll and Hyde, or Elphaba. You never heard Mary Martin mention almost passing out after singing “Do-Re-Mi” in The Sound of Music like Heather Headley talked about in Aida. The roles have changed, and the requirements to do those roles have changed as well.

This past winter, I, who never get sick, managed to catch every germ in circulation. I remember thinking, “What if I was on Broadway . . . Could I really get myself on stage to play even Corny Collins?” Once or twice, the answer would have been no.

But, a-ha, there’s also a flip side to all this. One of the big complaints of people interviewed in Broadway: The Golden Age and David Wienir and Jodie Langel’s book Making It on Broadway is the lack of Broadway star status on Broadway today. In the old days, people knew who Mary Martin, Janis Paige, John Raitt, and Alfred Drake were. Stunt casting consisted of Carol Channing as Ruth Sherwood in Wonderful Town, and a lesser name like Gretchen Wyler could be Lola once Gwen Verdon exited Damn Yankees.

The multiple-absence problem plays a hand in this. Actors become well-known when masses of people see them shining. It’s pretty hard for that to happen when you miss every other Saturday performance. Your producers can’t afford to have the audience too excited to see you in a show when, four months into the run, you’re gone for a week of vacation. When you acknowledge your own insignificance in the show by being gone often, then why should anyone else lift you up?

If you want to make a name for yourself, then you have to make choices. Even if you’re an un-famous Belle in Beauty and the Beast, that’s a chance to make a name for yourself. And though 98% of the audience will leave the theatre not knowing you, even if a few theatre people and those little girls waiting at the stage door walk out with your name permanently imprinted on their minds, you’re a step closer to being a star. I don’t know who was supposed to be Mayor Shinn’s wife in The Music Man that night, but I walked out knowing the great talent that is Leslie Hendrix. Honestly, if the sitcom I wrote had been produced, Leslie Hendrix would have been on my mind.

Being in show business is like being in any other business—you have to be scrappy and you can’t be successful unless you are going after every last dime. McDonald’s, for example, advertises its coffee. Coffee! The same thing you can buy anywhere for cheap, and McDonald’s spends millions to remind people that they have it. Eddie Bauer trains its employees to ask customers if they want socks or belts when they check out. Success comes in not missing a single opportunity, and on Broadway, one of the biggest opportunities is gaining fans.

I would have been sorely disappointed if I had gone to Tarzan and Merle Dandridge had been out. This is a business where you can’t afford to disappoint fans. It’s not movies where people can watch you do your thing a million times; you may have only a few chances to win that fan. If they come to see you in your show and you are gone, there’s a good chance they won’t have the money or chance to see you again. The bond will be broken.

Every missed performance is a missed opportunity, and a Broadway performer needs to weigh what’s important. If we don’t have more Broadway stars, that is partially because we don’t have enough people demanding that they be. I can’t imagine Gwen Verdon being in a show that lasts two months and having given her understudy a chance to steal that spotlight.

And really, maybe we should thank God we don’t have as many of those stars. I must admit that there are some shows where, if the audience were there for names, there’d be big refund lines every night.

Again, if people don’t see you, they’re not going to remember you. If you don’t value your own star presence, nobody else will acknowledge it either.

I still wish I had seen Beth Leavel. And I’m awful glad I got to see Marin Mazzie before she went on vacation. And how thankful I am that the night I saw Wicked Stephanie J. Block didn’t have the flu.

Still, I don’t know if we can ever judge people for the career choices they make. Why should making it to three performances in a Broadway show be any more important than being there for your children or supporting your spouse? How can I say whether someone’s flu or ankle pain or headache isn’t a good enough excuse? For me, what it comes down to is that Broadway stars are people, and their personal needs are no more or less important than mine.

Broadway Mouth
March 10, 2009

Revival Time

2009-03-09T13:42:00.003-04:00

Dear Readers,

I'm trying to find more time in my week to work on my novel, which means that I'm going to take a short break from blogging for about a month or so in order to revise. Some weeks, I can spend as much as five or six hours writing these blogs, and I need to use that time to revise my novel.

Until I return (though you never know when a new blog entry might pop up), I will be reviving some of my favorite columns from the past twenty months. I pour so much into some of these, I've always thought it a shame that most of them will never be read much after they were originally posted. I guess this is a good remedy to that.

I hope you will all bear with me until my return. I love my blog audience, but I also need to be proactive in pursuing all avenues available to reach my ultimate end, publication and production. To quote myself, "Could you imagine if Nicholas Sparks, John Grisham, or Amy Tan wanted to write a Broadway musical? Yeah, skip the overture and go directly to the eleven o'clock number, that's what would happen."

In the meantime, if anyone out there has any knowledge of what to do to pursue publication, I would appreciate any insight! I followed every wrong path to production, so I'd appreciate any mentorship from someone who knows. You can leave feedback here anonymously, or you can email me at broadwayloudmouth@yahoo.com.

the Broadway Mouth
March 9, 2009

Casting Celebrations 2: The Smartest Casting Directors on Broadway

2009-02-25T20:45:00.000-05:00

You know the drill. The replacement and tour casts look and perform as much like the original cast as possible. If you need a replacement Beast, you always look to the guys who played Javert. If you need Javert, you look to the guys who played the Beast. If you need a Belle, she needs to look and sound a certain way unless you cast Toni Braxton. If you need a star name, you cast whoever is least likely to be an embarrassment but still be big enough to get butts in seats.

But last week, we were given the exciting news—Faith Prince as Ursula!

It’s not remarkable that Disney cast Faith Prince. They’ve used big Broadway names many times before—Andrea McArdle, Idina Menzel, Norm Lewis, to name a few. What’s remarkable is that they went in the entire opposite direction of the original casting. Sherie Rene Scott is a pop powerhouse, sexy and young, and they should have cast a Kelly Fournier or a Sara Gettelfinger. Instead, we get the very versatile and cute Faith Prince.

Faith Prince is perfect casting, utterly perfect. She can do character roles with great zest, but she’s also proven her ability to handle more subtle roles, earning strong reviews in The King and I and James Joyce’s The Dead. Her Ursula will be entirely different from Sherie Rene Scott’s—I don’t know how it could be anything except different—but it will also be utterly satisfying and genius in her own way.

Faith Prince is genius casting in anything, but as Ursula, it’s unexpected genius. Theatre fans will be willing to go a second time just to see her interpretation of the role, and general audiences will walk away having witnessed a great performance.

Personally, when I heard about the original cast members trickling away, it made The Little Mermaid less of a draw if I make it to NYC this summer. It’s not that I don’t appreciate the less-known performers out there, but it’s extraordinarily nice to over-pay to see someone you love or have wanted to see perform for a long time. Faith Prince as Ursula is exciting.

Way to go, Disney! You turned stunt casting into stunning casting.

the Broadway Mouth
February 25, 2009

Casting Celebrations 1: The Smartest Person on Broadway

2009-02-23T18:44:00.003-05:00

Laura Osnes may be the smartest person on Broadway right now. She went from a dinner theatre production of Grease, sang her guts out on a TV show no one in the industry respected, got very poor reviews in a very poorly reviewed production, and walked out with a coveted replacement role.

From the start, Laura Osnes was my #1 pick on Grease: You’re the One That I Want, and I felt like she had the talent to make it. But the truth is, there’s so much more to star power than just talent. Sam Levene couldn’t sing strongly, but he was cast as Nathan Detroit in the original cast of Guys and Dolls for other talents. Gertrude Lawrence was also not a singer, but she starred in The King and I, originating some of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s best songs (for the record, every Rodgers and Hammerstein’s score has some of their best songs, except maybe Me and Juliet, but it always seems like the right thing to say). I haven’t yet seen Osnes on stage in a big Broadway show, but I know she at least has the singing talent.

And her recent casting in South Pacific proves she’s got something important, and whatever it is, she’s going to be selling tickets to South Pacific. If I make it to NYC this summer, South Pacific is now on my “Must See” list (it was with Kelli O’Hara, but with just any replacement cast member, it would not have been). And how many Broadway people are out there who are more experienced could have out-performed Osnes in the role? Quite possibly a ton . . . actresses who have been pounding the pavement for years, who have refined themselves with three other lead roles in Broadway shows, earning rave reviews for each one.

But they’re not the smartest person on Broadway.

Why more Broadway babies don’t audition for those singing and dancing reality shows, I’ll never know. It’s a long shot, but auditioning for a Jersey Boys replacements is pretty darn long too. And it’s probably much easier than spending all that time griping about Laura Osnes, Max Crumm, Constantine Maroulis, or Diane DeGarmo "stealing roles from legitimate Broadway performers."

As a performer, take every chance you get. As a writer, take every chance you get. There are darn too few of them that come along to pass any up.

At one point, Osnes’ husband (pictured above) had talked about possibly getting back to performing. After all, the story is that they met in a children’s theatre production of Aladdin. If he has chosen to go that direction, then let me tell you, he needs to take every chance he can get. And he’d better not be shy about using his wife’s connections.

Take every chance you can get.

Take every chance you can get.

Take every chance you can get.

the Broadway Mouth
February 23, 2009

From the Mouth of David Letterman (and Lauren Graham)

2009-02-18T08:00:00.000-05:00

Lauren Graham: I did a TV show for seven years where our typical day was fourteen hours. And you tell people that, and they're like, "Yeah, but that's not theatre." And I'm like, "It's still fourteen hours!" That was a really long day!

David Letterman: That's a lot of standing around . . . and then a lot of this, "Lunch!"

Because I hated even the commercials for The Gilmore Girls, I find Lauren Graham a little hard to swallow, but I enjoyed watching her on David Letterman a couple weeks ago. On the show, she was trying to prove her theatre street cred, making sure to let everyone know that she had earned her equity card at the Barn Theatre in Augusta, Michigan (which is where Jonathon Larson and Marin Mazzie earned their Equity cards, by the way).

I’ve been concerned about the casting of Lauren Graham and Oliver Platt in the revival of Guys and Dolls. Honestly, if Guys and Dolls is a dud, I’m not sure there will be enough shows of high interest to warrant my hoped-for trip to NYC this summer. To me, Craig Bierko, Kate Jennings Grant, and Mary Testa are huge draws, but a show like Guys and Dolls thrives on all the leads being fantastic. After all, what good is a salad if half the lettuce is rotten?

That is not to say Graham might be bad just because she made her name on television. She obviously has stage experience, and she is presumably very talented. Perhaps the same can be said for Oliver Platt.

I just hope she is more Eric McCormack (who was great in The Music Man) than Christina Applegate (who, in Sweet Charity, was strong for someone who hadn’t been on Broadway before) or David Hasselhoff (does that really need to be qualified?).

A big star name can mean the difference between financial success (A Raisin in the Sun) or financial ruin (Seussical), greatness (Ragtime) or disaster (the Ashley Judd Cat on a Hot Tin Roof). I guess it boils down to that no matter what choice a producer makes, it’s a mighty big risk. And if your Hollywood star turns out to be Jeremy Piven, then I guess that’s the gamble you take and the result you deserve.

Broadway shows need stars to survive, but they also need talent and professionalism too.

As for Guys and Dolls, I’m hoping for the best.

the Broadway Mouth
February 18, 2009

Critical Interception: Analysis of a Review (Part 3)

2009-02-15T16:50:00.000-05:00

Note: You can find Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

3. Bullying

I one time wrote a skit about two friends who had been at the same potluck dinner. Sarah was very upset that there had been two tater tot casseroles at the potluck, and while the other dish was all gone, hardly anyone had touched hers. Naturally, she called her pal Barb to vent about the other casserole, “which wasn’t even that good.” Of course, we learn it was Barb who made the other casserole and what follows is an overly pleasant, sub-text heavy advice session laden with such helpful hints as:

Sarah: Honey, I was thinking that next time, you might want to add a little water before cooking your casserole. That’ll help make it less cementy.

Tone is everything. I would have no problem telling my mom that something she made was a little dry, but to say it was cementy is more than just a little brutal.

The same thing is true about reviews. You can easily say that something is ineffective or that it doesn’t work without resorting to bashing or insulting. It’s almost like middle school all over again, with one kid trying to gain popularity by besting another. And true, funny insults get mileage. Years ago, Broadway.com published a selection of funny lines from reviews on works during the prior season, and I laughed very hard. But when you consider all aspects of a review, it doesn’t seem like the most production route, no matter how funny.

In Suskin’s review of Thou Shalt Not, for example, he goes as far as to say that the “I Need to Be in Love Ballet” “looked more like ‘The Laundress Has Conniptions.’” Admittedly, it’s a very funny description. That is until you think about Kate Levering or Susan Stroman reading it. No matter how ineffective the dance was, there was an intention behind it, a bold move to communicate something through dance. And to reduce it to an insult just doesn’t seem productive, particularly when you think about Levering needing to do this choreography eight shows a week after maybe reading such reviews. Again, there’s nothing wrong with the nature of the criticism, it is the spirit in which it is communicated that seems wrong.

Suskin, in particular, has a habit of piling on the criticisms. It’s as if it’s not enough to say that something doesn’t work, but then you have to nit-pick. In Thou Shalt Not, he questions the lyrics “all alone in your all night gown,” asking, “What, pray tell, is an ‘all night gown?’” Call me a fool, but I have a feeling that when Bierko sang this to Levering, all alone except for a bed, the audience didn’t have any trouble answering that question. In earlier editions of his Broadway Yearbook series, Suskin also questions the phrase “welcome hinges on the door” from Bloomer Girl and “secret soul” from Jane Eyre. It doesn’t seem too hard to figure out what “welcome hinges” mean, and as for “secret soul,” not only does it come directly from Charlotte Brontë’s novel, but she likely got it from a hack playwright/poet named William Shakespeare who used the term in an almost-forgotten work he wrote called Twelfth Night, when Duke Orsino says to Viola/Cesario, “I have unclasped / To thee the book e’en of my secret soul.”

Once again, let me clarify that I am not attacking Steven Suskin. As I have written numerous times before, I love Suskin’s Broadway Yearbook series and was greatly saddened that it did not continue, for his observations are invaluable to those of us who got to see the shows as well as to those of us who didn’t.

At the same time, I find reading reviews like Suskin’s to be crippling at times. Plays are like people. You just plain old like some people and dislike others. A personality trait you tolerate in one person, you may readily attack in another simply because you don’t like him/her in general. Similarly, what you overlook in your best friend you may find annoying beyond belief in that co-worker down the hall. In short, it’s all about the adjectives. Your best friend is funny, while the guy down the hall is judgmental. It’s hard to say “which label [will be] able to persist.”

When I think of the plays I’ve written, I wonder what critics would say if the plays actually got anywhere. Would they attack the traditional plotting and lose sight of the humor? Would the unabashed romance help them ignore the number of ballads? Will the review be about the clever show-within-a-show, or about that fact that it’s yet another backstage musical?

I suppose the solution is to always stay close to your original vision, to focus on the act of creating in hopes that you have the talent to make your intentions shine through. Then, I suppose you need to hear the criticism of the creative team, the audience, and the out-of-town critics in order to use what they communicate to improve the show in every way possible for opening night.

Then when that’s done, you try really hard not lose sight of their meaning when someone tries to help you by calling your passion piece “The Laundress Has Conniptions.”

the Broadway Mouth
February 15, 2009

Critical Interception: Analysis of a Review (Part 2)

2009-02-11T08:00:00.000-05:00

Note: You can find Part 1 here.

2. Attacking Bold Moves

I’m not a big fan of the “Well, they tried hard” school of thought. Intentions don’t do a heck of a lot to the couple who dished out $125 a ticket for Tarzan.

However, too many critics—those who get their voice heard because they were hired by an editor or those who get their voice heard thanks to the Internet—love to pull out their swords and go on the attack against those who dare to rock the status quo.

In his review for Thou Shalt Not, Suskin comments on one particular dance, saying that the “program called this the ‘I Need to Be in Love Ballet’. . . This was followed, fifteen minutes or so later, by the related song. (In musical theatre, we usually sing the song first and then do the dance, so that the audience knows what the character is dancing about. But we’ll let that pass.)”

How patronizing! It’s so obvious that Susan Stroman doesn’t know the rules, right?

Yeah, so maybe this structure didn’t work for the show, and maybe it landed with a thud like a boulder dropped from the top floor of the Empire State, but isn’t it enough to comment that it was ineffective? Does a critic need to be insulting about it?

The problem is that the creator needs the freedom to experiment. If everyone always plays by the rules all the time, then there’s never an Oklahoma!, a Cabaret, or a Rent. Experimentation leads to innovations and exciting new works with bold moves and daring choices. And yes, sometimes it leads to turkeys, laid eggs, and Bombay Dreams, but without the freedom to try in the absence of holier-than-Thou-Shalt-Not digs, the creator can never find that something new that works.

The famous words one observer had for Oklahoma! out of town was “No legs, no jokes, no chance.” Of course, Oklahoma! was such a smash because it had no legs and no gags. And I don’t want to lose sight of this most important point, which is that Oklahoma! broke the rules and was a smash because it broke the rules to create a spectacular evening of theatre. And yes, at $125 a ticket, no one gets a free pass, and yet, I can’t help but wonder what critics would have intoned about Oklahoma! or A Chorus Line if they hadn’t appreciated the bold moves their creators made. Would Agnes De Mille’s ballet have become “a superfluous reminder that ballet is not Broadway and that Broadway is not for ballet” or “a text book case of why God gave us dialogue and lyrics”? If you’re strictly operating under the “Business as usual” model, then all you’ll ever get is “Business as usual.”

The words of a critic can be harrowingly powerful, and it doesn’t have to be insulting or degrading. Remember that writer Kate Chopin’s The Awakening was so brutally attacked by critics that’s never wrote another novel. The Awakening is now regarded as an important American classic, and even if the book really had been wretched, that’s not to say her next work wouldn’t have been grand.

Instead of attacking the idea of a choice, perhaps it is better to critique the choice itself.

the Broadway Mouth
February 11, 2009

Mary Poppins on DVD Broadway Bonus Features

2009-02-10T12:01:00.001-05:00

I have not yet had the chance to see the recently re-re-re-released Mary Poppins DVD which contains more than just a peek at the Broadway show. Until I have, here is a look at what the DVD contains to see if it’s enough to entice you into purchasing it.

The Broadway Mouth
February 10, 2009.

Luba Mason’s Krazy Love

2009-02-09T18:32:00.001-05:00

I have one jazz album on my shelf of 300+ CDs, and that is my recently received copy of Luba Mason’s Krazy Love. And I can’t help but wonder . . . Do you have to know something about jazz in order to comment on a jazz album?

Luba Mason was a Broadway star of the 1990s, appearing in such shows as How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, Jekyll and Hyde, The Capeman, and Chicago. Now married to Latin music star Ruben Blades, Mason has spent a number of years away from the Broadway spotlight, and she finally returns, not in an album of Broadway standards but in Krazy Love, a Brazil-flavored jazz album featuring eight tracks written or co-written by Mason herself (and two additional tracks, including one duet with Blades).

As discussed previously, my favorite solo albums are those in which Broadway stars do what Broadway stars do best, interpreting Broadway songs as if they were singing the songs on stage. That doesn’t prevent Broadway names (like Adam Pascal, Idina Menzel, and Alice Ripley) from doing silly things like branching off in other genres and expressing themselves in other artistic forms. For the Broadway fan, the core of any Broadway star’s fan base, this can be a hard pill to swallow. While many Broadway fans appreciate a variety of music styles, it’s hard to accept a solo album by Heather Headley when all you want to do is hear her belt out a favorite from Aida, not whisper through an over-produced R&B ditty.

So what is a Broadway Mouth to do with Brazil-flavored jazz?

Best news of all is that Mason is in fine vocal form on Krazy Love. True to the genre, she isn’t belting out anything or singing with a lyric soprano, but her cool, subdued jazz vocal stylings are a natural fit for her very versatile voice, never seeming forced or whispered. With great ease, she caresses, embraces, and seduces with the lyrics, allowing us to forget that she has the vocal chops to perform roles like Lucy Harris from Jekyll and Hyde.

Lyrically, Mason’s songs sometimes dwell in abstraction. In the title song, for example, she sings of a powerful love that has disappeared; however, instead of painting any concrete details, we are told about “poison no longer flowing through my veins” and “No longer swimming / With the falling stars”. At the same time, the melody of the song, combined with the depth of Mason’s voice, creates an atmosphere that allows the lyrics to melt into the distance. What remains is the impression of the song, the fragrance of an emotion set to a pretty jazz melody.

Where the album excels is in the convergence of Mason’s voice and the jazz melodies. In the second of the ten tracks, “From Me to You,” we are given a sultry Mason longing after an untrustworthy man who has moved on to another woman, the Latin beat celebrating both the passion and the loss. In “Gorgeous Fool,” she flirtatiously sings to her gorgeous fool, a man whose rich inner beauty overcomes his outward flaws. And perhaps the best song is “Lovely,” and it excels because of this convergence. Mason caresses, her lovely voice on a jaunt with the lyrics, the Latin rhythms dancing behind her as she sings of her romantic daydreams outside a launderette. It’s a lovely and charming song, and while the lyrics don’t fully connect (her husband comes in at the end, but there is not clear connection between the hero who “who appears wearing tight faded jeans” and her husband who “boats of me as his beautiful queen”), everything else about the song allows you to get lost in its charms.

The album, however, is not without a few weak links. “A Summer Night” is one of those songs so slow and intentionally soothing that it’s almost background music, and “Olhos nos Olhos,” the only track without any English lyrics, fails to register because of its lack of rooting in English, leaving the listener to focus almost entirely on the department store melody/arrangement.

Someone who is totally opposed to jazz or has no interest in music outside Broadway will not find Krazy Love to be too enlightening; however, Mason sets forth with a solo album with great beauty and charm, and for those fans who enjoy music of many different styles, Mason’s CD just might be a tempting divergence. I know I’ll be listening to it again.

the Broadway Mouth
February 9, 2009

Critical Interception: Analysis of a Review (Part 1)

2009-02-05T08:45:00.001-05:00

It’s a love/hate relationship. Yes, I love reading Steven Suskin’s three Broadway Yearbook volumes (for seasons 1999-2000, 2000-2001, and 2001-2002) and soaking in all I can. The first two are particular favorites because I was actually in New York to see some of those productions with the casts that he writes about in such detail.

I love the books because Suskin is well-spoken, entertaining, and his analyses are always thoughtful and written with a clear knowledge of the subject at hand. At the same time, as I read the individual entries, I can’t help but feel that I am also witnessing some pretty standard crimes against my beloved Broadway.

Perhaps I’m also afraid of how my own work will stand under such scrutiny. Second-guessing what you do can be pretty crippling.

I honestly don’t get to read many New York reviews—I don’t have tons of time to locate and read them online—though I do follow the general leaning of reviews via the various Broadway message boards (I do miss the days when Broadway.com would publish a survey of the reviews).

Yet, I’ve read enough of them to feel like Suskin’s writings in the Broadway Yearbook series are a good representation of the beast, though Suskin also takes the added step of including a vast amount of background and historical detail related to each production.

As a model for analysis, I use his Thou Shalt Not review from Broadway Yearbook 2001-2002. Thou Shalt Not was the 2001 Harry Connick, Jr./Susan Stroman musical that starred Craig Bierko, Kate Levering, Norbert Leo Butz, and Debra Monk. Coming off the highs of Contact and The Producers, Thou Shalt Not was another Stroman baby; however, unlike so many of her other children, this one received a harsh critical backlash and was brutally expelled, as is typical of anything that aims high and thuds hard.

I did not see Thou Shalt Not, so I cannot speak to its quality. My only experience with the work has been through the bonus CD included with the revival recording of The Pajama Game starring Connick, Jr. Despite the considerable talents of the songwriter and Kelli O’Hara, who perform several songs from the show on the CD, nothing on the disc ever registers. As earnest an effort as it is, the recording never rises above in-one-ear-and-out-the-other status.

1. Experiencing the Source Material is Not a Necessity
It would seem reading the book, reading the play, or renting the movie would be a good first step in reviewing a big new Broadway production. It certainly is an honorable thing to do (a tradition that I’m sure could come to an abrupt end if anyone ever writes Portrait of a Lady: The Musical!).

The problem is that “the movie is never as good as the book.” And even if the adaptation is better than the book, no one who’s read the book can recognize that. Nothing ever beats mom’s sugar cookies because you ate them first. The definition of sugar cookie was defined by mom’s recipe. The only place to go from there is down.

As an example, I offer Pat Conroy’s huge novel The Lords of Discipline, his fictionalized account of his years at the Citadel. While the book was not a favorite by any means, I enjoyed much of the narrative and characters and so rented the movie. It’s a somewhat okay movie, but the characters are an abbreviated version of the novel’s characters, the plotting is summarized, and the conflicts are reduced. While The Lords of Discipline as a novel could amble its way through some 500 pages or so, it didn’t warrant a five hour epic on the big screen. Someone had to make some cuts somewhere, and they just happened to make a lot of the wrong ones.

But the problem is that I couldn’t honestly evaluate the movie of The Lords of Discipline as a movie because I was evaluating it as a novel. Whether it succeeds or fails as a movie independent of the novel, I’ll never know. Millions of Americans have not read the novel and will encounter the movie version in an entirely different way. As an aspiring-to-be-produced writer, it’s an important educational exercise to evaluate and learn from the adaptation, but in purely determining its quality as an independent work, experiencing the source material doesn’t allow one to speak to that.

In his review of Thou Shalt Not, Suskin compares it significantly with its source material, the Emile Zola novel Thérèse Raquin, highlighting the differences between what made the novel work and how the adaptation offset the delicate balance Zola created, thereby making for a crappy evening of theatre.

Not surprisingly, Zola’s Thérèse Raquin was far superior to Stroman’s Thérèse Raquin. And I should certainly hope so.

What makes for an effective adaptation is a topic in itself, but in short, the successful adapter needs to decide between faithfully adapting the work for a new medium (think Jane Eyre), revising the work (think Thoroughly Modern Millie), or interpreting the work (think Marie Christine). And to borrow a phrase, it is indeed brain surgery. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t. The problem is that if you are bathing yourself in the source material immediately before reviewing the show (and the source material is of high enough quality to have survived generations), there is a statistically higher chance that it is not going to work in the show’s favor. And since most people aren’t out to adapt You Don’t Mess With the Zohan or Zoolander, this is typically a reviewing recipe for disaster. It’s the Mom’s Sugar Cookies effect.

The most annoying example of this was with the comparisons between Judy Holliday’s Ella Peterson in the Bells are Ringing movie and Faith Prince’s Ella Peterson in the revival. As far as film musicals go, Bells are Ringing is a pretty minor work. It’s enjoyable, but I can’t imagine it ever rivaling one’s affection for, say, Meet Me in St. Louis, The Sound of Music, or State Fair. I can’t for once believe that most of the critics dancing the “She’s Not Judy Holliday” ballet were basing the evaluation based upon their Comden and Greene period back in ’89. As much as I love the show, the movie hasn’t particularly stuck to my ribs. So by watching the video—and how else would Holliday’s performance be so fresh (it’s not, by any means, a remarkable film performance, though it probably was so on stage)—people were bringing on the Mom’s Sugar Cookies effect.

the Broadway Mouth
February 5, 2009

Shrek to Elphaba: Green With Envy

2009-02-04T13:54:00.003-05:00

I don't get the fuss about Shrek. Sure, its box office may be struggling, and sure, it may be DreamWorks's attempt to best Disney (something they've been failing to do almost since inception, that curious Shrek 2 Oscar aside), but a show is a show is a show. And shows are big risks that often fail.

I have not seen Shrek because I don't live in New York, so this is not comment on the quality. But big shows fail--Elton John and Lestat, Michael Crawford and Dance of the Vampires, those Les Mis people and The Pirate Queen. I don't think Shrek deserves any more dancing in the news (or bad publicity) because of it. Just because it's Shrek, it's not a shocker.

What I'd rather hear more about is why. Why is the show failing to find an audience? My guess is that there's just too much competition for those types of shows, and while people love Shrek, The Little Mermaid and Mary Poppins are beloved. If I had kids to take to a show, I'd take them to either of the Disney shows. If I didn't have kids to take to a show, I'd go to In the Heights.

So, I'd love to hear other thoughts. Why do you think Shrek is currently (and that is an important word) failing to find an audience?

the Broadway Mouth
January 4, 2009

Luba Mason Autographed Krazy Love CD Winning Broadway Memories

2009-02-02T18:39:00.001-05:00

Thanks big time for everyone who submitted a favorite Broadway memory! The entries that won an autographed Luba Mason Krazy Love CD are below. Look for my own discussion of the album soon.

From Dan:

Many years ago, I was taking acting classes, and the instructor told us that to help learn our craft, we needed to see how other actors performed. And since we were starving artists, he told us to wait until a Broadway show broke for intermission, then sneak into the balcony when everyone went back in. Of course, it would have to be a show that wasn’t sold out. Five of us from that class tried this with The Buddy Holly Story. I was so nervous that when the usher came around to hand out the program for Buddy’s last performance, I thought he was coming to kick us out. Fortunately, we made it through the second act, but I still wish I could have seen the whole thing. I still remember that incident and show vividly.

From Kathy:

My mother had grown up loving Broadway musicals, and I had a tradition of taking her to a show in New York on Mother's Day every year. In December of 1986, she was diagnosed with cancer and faced some life-threatening surgery. I immediately went out and bought two tickets for the new musical Les Miserables for Mother's Day 1987 and gave them to her. As we entered the Broadway Theatre that May, she told me that my faith in buying the tickets had given her the strength to fight the disease. To this day, I can't hear the Colm Wilkinson's soaring tenor without remembering that very special day.

the Broadway Mouth
January 2, 2009

Luba Mason in Chicago

2009-01-29T13:00:00.000-05:00

Here's a little clip I thought some would find interesting in light of the two AUTOGRAPHED Luba Mason Krazy Love CDs I'm giving away (courtesy of Miles High Productions).

Krazy Love dropped January 27, 2009, and it is a departure for Mason’s Broadway fans as she explores a Brazilian-tinged jazz side to her talents in an album that is largely of her own writing.

How to Enter
No need to sign up for any annoying newsletters or to create some stupid password you’ll never remember. To win one of two autographed copies of Luba Mason’s Krazy Love CD, just write a paragraph telling me about your favorite Broadway memory.

I’ve often written on here about my favorite Broadway (or Broadway tour) memories—seeing Carol Channing in Hello, Dolly! or almost crying during “It’s Your Wedding Day” in The Wedding Singer. Tell me what your favorite experience was and then explain how that show, performance, song, or whatever affected you in a paragraph.

The two winning entries will be edited for content and clarity and posted next week. Enter by Friday, January 30, 2009, by emailing me at broadwayloudmouth@yahoo.com. Send me your paragraph and your first name, and if you are a winner, I will email you on Monday to get your address for mailing you your autographed Krazy Love CD. Then, look for my review of the CD early next week.

the Broadway Mouth
January 29, 2009

Broadway as an Educational Tool 2: Jason Robert Brown's "Stars and the Moon" . . . in Kiddie Jail

2009-01-28T13:48:00.008-05:00

There are some things you only do for money. Prostitution and teaching in a juvenile detention center are high on the list. I think dressing in that spider costume from Tarzan might be on there somewhere as well (but no judgments). Selling drugs is high on that list too, I think, and if you're under eighteen, it comes with no 401K but a great free meal plan in a juvenile detention center.

Let me start at the beginning. I first encountered Jason Robert Brown's song "Stars and the Moon" on Audra McDonald's first solo CD, Way Back to Paradise. In fact, hearing his work on that album was one of the main reasons I made it to Parade on tour (that and seeing the performance on the Tony Awards).

"Stars and the Moon" is a song about a woman who wants to marry for money. On the road of life, she encounters men who offer her excitement, romance, and adventure, but they don't have what she really wants in life. Finally, she accepts the proposal of a rich man who provides her with a life of the rich and indulgent. By the end of the song, however, she looks back on her life of wealth and security and realizes all the things she's missed out on. It's a beautiful and moving song, starting with a soothing and memorable piano intro, and topped, of course, by McDonald's stunning voice and interpretation.

I first taught "Stars and the Moon" to low-ability sophomores my first two years of teaching. In that class, I was always trying new works to pull the kids in. Some things were effective--Sherman Alexie, short plays, short stories dealing with gangs--some things were not--Maya Angelou, anything in the literature book, anything long. When I first selected it, my principal was coming to observe me, and I wanted something good. "Stars and the Moon" was just the thing.

I began by having my kids draw pictures of what they wanted their life to look like in fifteen years (it was always the big car, the big house, all the money), and then we'd share. When we got to the song, which I'd always play for them as they read along, we discussed the different sections of the song--looking at what each of the men are offering (i.e. what is "the open road" representing, what is meant by the stars and the moon). Then we discussed the ending, exploring how she could be unhappy after getting exactly what she wanted. After that, we evaluated the message of the song and kids shared ideas about what is of more value, the stars and the moon or champagne.

Okay, so I'm not exactly doing justice to the lesson here, but it may help to know that my principal was very impressed with the selection, and essentially for the same reason I was, because it would speak to the kids at their level without talking down to them. There was some new vocabulary in the song, but it wasn't so far beyond them that they couldn't comprehend it. And it was high interest. Best of all, the kids really liked the song and enjoyed getting to share their ideas about the concepts in it.

"Stars and the Moon" has come in handy at all the schools I've taught at. When I taught a discussion class, I used it as a basis for the kids to enter into a discussion (and my singers were all writing down the name of the song and songwriter for later use). When I taught middle school, I used it in a unit with Our Town as a pre-read activity to get the kids thinking about what in life is of value. I also used it once in an eleventh grade unit on The Great Gatsby as a related work. The Great Gatsby is about the American Dream, and "Stars and the Moon" ties in so beautifully with that concept.

The most interesting response to the song, however, was when I taught summer school at a juvenile detention center. Talk about a horrible place to teach. The first day on the job was a training on self-defense techniques--what to do if a knife is held up to your back, what to do if a student has you by your hair, that sort of thing. We learned the different emergency codes to use (one was if you needed a student removed from your classroom, the other if you needed emergency assistance from about everyone in the building--I used that one once).

I'm an idealist, and as much as teaching wore me out more than inspired me, I really worked hard for my kids. I always put in 110% and really longed to inspire and motivate my students to become more than what they imagined they could be (I am, at heart, a nurturer).

But let me tell you, it was hard there. As everyone young and naive (or is that stupid?--I was 30) thinks, I really felt like I had the chance to change their lives. But as the days wore on, I realized the chances of that happening were slim to none. Dean (not his real name), for example, started out really eager to do work, to read, to engage in conversation, but then two days later, he was belligerent and rude and remained that way the whole five weeks. Mitch informed me that when he got out he'd go back to dealing drugs because that was the easiest thing to do and the whole time refused to do any work, to focus, or to even be pleasant. Little John was in for spray-painting a police car (he was about fourteen), and though he wanted acceptance more than anything, he could not earn anything but scorn from the older kids. He would certainly never do anything as un-cool as be respectful or do work.

And it wasn't a question of me being nice. I was so nice to those kids and did everything I knew how to do to bond with and engage them, but for the most part, it just didn't work.

When I wound up with about forty-five minutes at the end of the day with no district-endorsed curriculum (though I quickly learned the district-endorsed curriculum was worthless for these particular students anyway), I decided to round up some songs to teach. I wanted to find songs that had some literary depth to them but would speak to something about their situation in life--give them hope, give them motivation, inspire them.

I don't remember all the songs I used, but the one that the kids liked best was undoubtedly "Stars and the Moon." Here's a room with eight or so really tough kids, most of them people of color, and I'm playing for them a song performed by operatic Audra McDonald. And they liked it!

There was one kid, Jimmy, who would close his eyes and move his head to the music, playing an imaginary piano. He was trying to get a response from the other kids, but at the same time, I could tell he was connected with the music. After discussing it, he said, "That was a good song." And he wanted me to play it again.

At the end of the summer, five weeks after I had originally played "Stars and the Moon," we discussed our final song, and Jimmy asked me to play "that one with the piano." There were some new kids in the class now (there was a constant rotation of kids in and out of the detention center), and he wanted them to hear it too.

When I gave up the district-endorsed curriculum, I replaced it with high-interest articles from People and Ebony. Like the songs, I tried to find articles that gave them hope--stories about people rising out of poverty, using their time in prison to develop their talents, that sort of thing. A number of times, after reading the articles or the songs, one of the kids would say, "Are you trying to tell us something?" or "Did you pick this just for us?" I'd always answer, "No, I just thought it was interesting."

They always believed me. I don't know if that's a good thing. Yet, I still hope that one of those kids remembers something from that summer, maybe even that sacrificing your freedom and joy to make quick, easy money won't bring true contentment.

I don't know if any will, but I will always hope.

the Broadway Mouth
January 28, 2009

Note: Don't forget to enter the giveaway for one of two autographed Luba Mason Krazy Love CDs. For info, see below!

Autographed Luba Mason Krazy Love CD Giveaway!

2009-01-26T13:34:00.001-05:00

For those of you familiar with Luba Mason through her work as Heddy LaRue from the 1995 Broadway revival of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying (appearing on the cast album), Mason’s latest CD—Krazy Love—will seem quite the departure. As Heddy LaRue, Mason was the cure for the common secretary, the empty-headed sexpot who had her claws in boss J.B. Biggley and almost ruined things between Matthew Broderick’s J. Pierrepont Finch and Megan Mullally’s Rosemary Pilkington. Her tracks on the OBCR are in a rich, squeaky character voice.

Mason’s Broadway credits, however, show her depth as a singer and actor. Her debut had been in The Will Roger Follies, which was followed by Sunset Boulevard. After H2S, she appeared opposite Marc Anthony and Ruben Blades (who is now her husband) in Paul Simon’s controversial The Capeman, then as the big-voiced Lucy in Jekyll and Hyde. As if jumping from dancing, character, and singing parts wasn’t enough, Mason’s last appearance on Broadway was as triple-threat Velma Kelly in the popular revival of Chicago.

Krazy Love drops January 27, 2009, and it is a departure for Mason’s Broadway fans as she explores a Brazilian-tinged jazz side to her talents in an album that is largely of her own writing. Soon, I’ll be reviewing Mason’s latest work, but until then, you, dear reader, have a chance to win one of two autographed Krazy Love CDs courtesy of Miles High Productions.

How to Enter
No need to sign up for any annoying newsletters or to create some stupid password you’ll never remember. To win one of two autographed copies of Luba Mason’s Krazy Love CD, just write a paragraph telling me about your favorite Broadway memory.

I’ve often written on here about my favorite Broadway (or Broadway tour) memories—seeing Carol Channing in Hello, Dolly! or almost crying during “It’s Your Wedding Day” in The Wedding Singer. Tell me what your favorite experience was and then explain how that show, performance, song, or whatever affected you in a paragraph.

The two winning entries will be edited for content and clarity and posted next week. Enter by Friday, January 30, 2009, by emailing me at broadwayloudmouth@yahoo.com. Send me your paragraph and your first name, and if you are a winner, I will email you on Monday to get your address for mailing you your autographed Krazy Love CD. Then, look for my review of the CD early next week.

the Broadway Mouth
January 26, 2009

Broadway as an Educational Tool 1: Elaine Stritch and The Glass Castle

2009-01-22T13:55:00.000-05:00

One of my assistant principals (from my teaching days) always managed to observe me on a day when I was showing my students a video clip. It got to the point where we would laugh about it in my post-observation meeting. I was never big on showing entire movies (of course I usually did it once a year in most classes, incorporating it into an actual unit and making it a valuable learning activity), but I’d often show short clips and scenes to illustrate a point.

I never used Broadway clips to indoctrinate my students (though it sometimes resulted in that); I used them because when you are up until midnight trying to figure out the best way of illustrating something, you grasp on to what you know well and what will be the most effective manner of communicating the idea. As my assistant principal agreed, showing five-minute clips was much more effective than showing entire movies. I also think the Broadway clips I showed were important because it exposed the kids to art, something they wouldn’t otherwise see. I always felt like I was expanding their minds in one tiny way or another.

Elaine Stritch At Liberty came in handy when I was teaching Jeanette Walls’s The Glass Castle, her memoir of growing up in a crazy household where her parents moved constantly and required parenting themselves, often leaving their children without food, without heat in winter, without even proper garbage removal. Life begins for the Walls children as an exciting adventure as their father moves them around the country in hopes of striking it rich and inventing great things. As his dreams crumble, and he is faced with the reality of the life he has created for his children and that it is vastly different from the dreams he had, he begins to medicate with alcohol, which causes things to deteriorate even more rapidly for the children.

One of the greatest pains I experienced as a teacher was knowing that my students would spend their weekends drinking and drugging themselves up and not being able to do a single thing about it. It’s particularly troubling when you read the statistics on teen drinking and how it relates to alcohol addiction later in life. I don’t know the statistics now, but the relationship between teen drinking and adult alcoholism is astounding. In my first years of teaching, I thought if I shared with them the moderation with which I lived my life that they would see they didn’t need reckless behavior to enjoy their time on this earth. Well, that backfired quickly, and I never knew really how else to address this effectively.

I also wanted to delve into the psychology of the characters in The Glass Castle (these were eleventh graders in a class for students with low ability/achievement) without it turning into me preaching. My objective was to help them process and interpret the characters in the story while also helping them to understand the steps of addiction.

I popped in At Liberty and began by showing them the scene when Stritch has her first drink. It’s a funny memory, and the kids laughed (one said, “She’s crazy”). I have a feeling a number of them could relate to the “fun” of first getting drunk. I then showed the scene in which she’s performing in California and is forbidden from drinking backstage, to which she forges congratulatory notes on bottles of booze with rigged corks to mask the sound of opening the bottle. Again, it’s a very funny story, but Stritch hints at why she was depending on alcohol, and it begins to become apparent that this is more than a choice. I ended with the wrap party in which she starts out with one drink, and then argues with herself about having another, then another, until she almost kills herself because she lacks the control she perceives herself to be exerting. I then fast-forwarded to the part at the end of the show when she says she’s had a great life and almost missed it all.

Yeah, it was an old woman singing, and I did have to explain that she was wearing dancer’s tights and wasn’t walking around in her underwear, but it helped us enter into a discussion of the dad in The Glass Castle. It helped us engage in a discussion on the power of addictive substances, how people come to depend on them, and we looked at why both Stritch and Rex Walls came to be alcoholics. The discussion wasn’t forced, it wasn’t me preaching; it was a discussion.

I ended the unit by showing the Sherman Alexie-penned Smoke Signals, which allowed us to discuss (less vibrantly) the effect of parents and how a person’s intentions aren’t always the same as their actions. It was a good unit, and the best part was that Elaine Stritch helped me cover the topic I was least-skilled at covering. Stritchy rocks.

the Broadway Mouth
January 22, 2009