Almost a year ago, when I wrote about my very favorite theatre books, high on the list was Peter Filichia’s Let’s Put on a Musical!. I didn’t realize when I had originally written the piece, but Filichia had recently updated the book. Well, I’ve finally acquired a brand new copy of this wonderful second edition. Honestly, theatre fans, you need to check it out.
At first, it may not seem like such a great book for the average theatre fan. It’s a book written to guide theatre group into picking shows that will work for them—outlining general plot, casting needs, significant sets, props, and so on.
But even for the serious musical theatre aficionado, there’s a wealth of interest.
My favorite part is Filichia’s analysis of each show. For each show profiled, he discusses the shows strength and weaknesses (called liabilities). These can include anything from plot holes and weak book-writing to lame lyrics. As one who aspires to write musicals worthy to be produced on Broadway, his insights—don’t forget he is a highly respected critic—are not only interesting but invaluable.
Also of interest is the background he gives on each show, which are brief but to the point, his often detailing their success or failure by listing specific performances for their runs, often including revivals. That’s interesting because it gives you a perspective on how modern audiences have responded to shows.
He also details any suggestions he has or directors have had after working with many of the shows. Again, here are some valuable insights into the construction of the shows, how they work, and how directorial choices affect the final result. It’s interesting to read what these theatre professionals have to say about their experiences with the shows.
Gone from the prior edition are his lame advertising suggestions (well-intended but pretty bad, nonetheless), and replacing it here is the inclusion of any special effects needs, which is a pretty significant consideration in selecting a show.
Also new to this edition are many new shows, from bigger titles like Thoroughly Modern Millie; Beauty and the Beast; and Titanic, to smaller shows, some off-Broadway, like Caroline, or Change; A Man of No Importance; and The Spitfire Grill. Even many of the entries from the prior edition have been updated with new suggestions, revival successes, and other information of note.
As must be expected, there are a few significant absences from the book. My beloved Jane Eyre is not discussed (though, I already know Filichia has qualms with Rochester’s struggle not to get divorced before marrying Jane), nor is the rather big Disney title Aida, which would be high on my list as a high school director (not to mention the show ran for some four years and was far more successful than many other smaller titles included here). There are a number of smaller titles that made it in order to, my guess would be, give choices to small theatre companies looking for small, inexpensive shows. Still, it seems odd to include A Class Act, Pete ‘n Keely, and Thrill Me and to leave out a success like Aida.
Also absent are the “Also Worth a Look” titles from the prior edition, which Filichia only briefly summarized, perhaps because they were shows of lesser interest or higher difficulty. A few of those—Meet Me in St. Louis, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, and Singin’ in the Rain—are produced quite often and their exclusion would probably be noticed by many community theatre and high school directors.
Despite those exclusions, Let’s Put on a Musical! is an invaluable reference, either to learn about shows or just to learn more about ones you know. Whenever I see a production, hear a new cast recording, or even revisit a recording I’ve heard before, I often pull out Let’s Put on a Musical! to get another perspective. In fact, I would say get the new edition AND hunt down a copy of the old one. There’s enough differing material in both to make it worth the while.
the Broadway Mouth
September 25, 2008
Showing posts with label Broadway books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Broadway books. Show all posts
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Reflections from Call Me Anna Part II (Please Indulge)
In addition to the fascinating account of her involvement with the original play and movie of The Miracle Worker, later in Patty Duke’s fantastic autobiography Call Me Anna, she addresses the making of the television remake of her original triumph, this time taking on the role of Annie Sullivan to Melissa Gilbert’s Helen Keller. As elsewhere in the book, she provides an absorbing detailing of the experience, a role she had fantasized about getting since her original run in the supporting role. She also addresses her devastation at being passed up for playwright William Gibson’s stage sequel Monday After the Miracle, which was a project she set in motion.
Interestingly, her own critique of the second filmed version of The Miracle Worker was dead-on for one of the two reasons why I couldn’t sit through the third version—the Disney remake—for more than fifteen minutes, namely its inappropriate candy store colors (the Disney version also used a screenplay that was a more than slightly bastardized version of the original play).
Having now finished Call Me Anna (which I will say had me riveted even though I had not seen many of the television projects she mentions in the book), I was pleasantly surprised by how much Duke addresses the craft of acting. It’s not a handbook by any means, but it allows insights into her acting mind—her process, her working style, and her insights into the work. She shows us Patty Duke in film and Patty Duke on stage, with a particularly interesting few pages dedicated to her touring work with then-husband John Astin, providing insight to his process as well. I loved reading about her work and her perspectives on it.
Of interest to others will include the endearing telling of her experience on the set of Valley of the Dolls and her encounter with Judy Garland before the Legend was fired, her Emmy-Award winning turn in My Sweet Charlie (based on a stage part she was offered but was unable to take), plus her choices in raising two children in the business (very talented sons Sean Astin from Rudy and The Lord of the Rings and Mackenzie Astin from The Facts of Life and Iron Will).
Call Me Anna is a page-turner, but that is not to say that the book is an entirely pleasurable read. The problem is I love Patty Duke. I love Patty Duke as the actress in The Miracle Worker and The Patty Duke Show, but you can tell from her narrative style and how she portrays events (not to mention interviews I’ve seen of her) that she is an incredibly intelligent, funny, and warm person—someone you’d love to have over for Sunday dinner. Because of this, when she first heads down the road of bad choices spurned on by the onset of bipolar disorder, it’s as hard as watching someone you know personally about making/living those choices (or watching the Britney Spears segment on Access Hollywood on any given night, seriously). It’s riveting, but it’s very hard to experience her experiencing it.
However, I have to also add that I greatly admire her ability to move on from those painful times. She reflects on them with great honesty and humor. She acknowledges that she made the choices but that she wasn’t really making them of her own accord. So she doesn’t wallow in guilt. I love that. Perhaps it’s because there’s such hope and life at the end of the tale that you want her to move on in life unencumbered by needless guilt.
I do have to say that Call Me Anna also returns me to one of my soapboxes, which is the lack of roles for talented women over forty, particularly those who haven’t botoxed themselves into kewpie-dolldom. Patty Duke is the real deal. I wish she’d have more chances to shine. In the works I’ve written, I have consciously attempted to write meaty roles for older women. It’s not always possible, particularly when the plot requires the focus to be on young people, fathers, or something, but I have created my fair share of significant roles for women over 40 and 50 in a number of the projects I write. I wish other writers would do the same.
I’m surprised more producers haven’t called her to Broadway since her Aunt Eller moment in Oklahoma! several years ago. Not only does Duke have a sell-able name, she’s the genuine article. I’d love to see her take on Lost in Yonkers, The Glass Menagerie, Death of a Salesman, Doubt, or something entirely new. We can’t let such talented fall through the cracks.
the Broadway Mouth
December 1, 2007
Interestingly, her own critique of the second filmed version of The Miracle Worker was dead-on for one of the two reasons why I couldn’t sit through the third version—the Disney remake—for more than fifteen minutes, namely its inappropriate candy store colors (the Disney version also used a screenplay that was a more than slightly bastardized version of the original play).
Having now finished Call Me Anna (which I will say had me riveted even though I had not seen many of the television projects she mentions in the book), I was pleasantly surprised by how much Duke addresses the craft of acting. It’s not a handbook by any means, but it allows insights into her acting mind—her process, her working style, and her insights into the work. She shows us Patty Duke in film and Patty Duke on stage, with a particularly interesting few pages dedicated to her touring work with then-husband John Astin, providing insight to his process as well. I loved reading about her work and her perspectives on it.
Of interest to others will include the endearing telling of her experience on the set of Valley of the Dolls and her encounter with Judy Garland before the Legend was fired, her Emmy-Award winning turn in My Sweet Charlie (based on a stage part she was offered but was unable to take), plus her choices in raising two children in the business (very talented sons Sean Astin from Rudy and The Lord of the Rings and Mackenzie Astin from The Facts of Life and Iron Will).
Call Me Anna is a page-turner, but that is not to say that the book is an entirely pleasurable read. The problem is I love Patty Duke. I love Patty Duke as the actress in The Miracle Worker and The Patty Duke Show, but you can tell from her narrative style and how she portrays events (not to mention interviews I’ve seen of her) that she is an incredibly intelligent, funny, and warm person—someone you’d love to have over for Sunday dinner. Because of this, when she first heads down the road of bad choices spurned on by the onset of bipolar disorder, it’s as hard as watching someone you know personally about making/living those choices (or watching the Britney Spears segment on Access Hollywood on any given night, seriously). It’s riveting, but it’s very hard to experience her experiencing it.
However, I have to also add that I greatly admire her ability to move on from those painful times. She reflects on them with great honesty and humor. She acknowledges that she made the choices but that she wasn’t really making them of her own accord. So she doesn’t wallow in guilt. I love that. Perhaps it’s because there’s such hope and life at the end of the tale that you want her to move on in life unencumbered by needless guilt.
I do have to say that Call Me Anna also returns me to one of my soapboxes, which is the lack of roles for talented women over forty, particularly those who haven’t botoxed themselves into kewpie-dolldom. Patty Duke is the real deal. I wish she’d have more chances to shine. In the works I’ve written, I have consciously attempted to write meaty roles for older women. It’s not always possible, particularly when the plot requires the focus to be on young people, fathers, or something, but I have created my fair share of significant roles for women over 40 and 50 in a number of the projects I write. I wish other writers would do the same.
I’m surprised more producers haven’t called her to Broadway since her Aunt Eller moment in Oklahoma! several years ago. Not only does Duke have a sell-able name, she’s the genuine article. I’d love to see her take on Lost in Yonkers, The Glass Menagerie, Death of a Salesman, Doubt, or something entirely new. We can’t let such talented fall through the cracks.
the Broadway Mouth
December 1, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Reflections While Reading Call Me Anna
Right now I'm reading Patty Duke's autobiography Call Me Anna. I have had the book for probably ten years and am finally getting around to reading it. Amazingly, I actually saw a copy of it at Barnes and Noble recently, which means that it has likely been in continuous publication since 1987, which is very impressive for an autobiography.
My first encounter with the talent of Patty Duke was in the Nick at Night reruns of her sitcom The Patty Duke Show. We didn’t have cable growing up, but when I’d sleep over at a friend’s house, I’d always sleep on the couch in the living room, where I could stay up late watching great old shows on Nickelodeon. I was never put off by black and white shows because I had grown up loving The Honeymooners, Father Knows Best, and The Andy Griffith Show even though I grew up in the era of 227, The Facts of Life, and Amen.
I guess the appeal of the show was both the spunkiness of Duke’s dual characters—particularly spunky was Patty—and the writing, which was always youthful and clever. I probably laughed more from The Patty Duke Show than I do from anything currently on primetime.
For Broadway audiences, though, she is best known for her work as Helen Keller in William Gibson’s play The Miracle Worker and her recreation of that role in the original film version.
In her book, Duke spends much time addressing the issue of her unusual childhood, which, in short, was completely controlled by her monstrous managers John and Ethel Ross; however, the section I have been riveted by is her detailing of her experiences in The Miracle Worker. Because Duke was writing this in the mid-80s, she is giving the adult perspective on her time in the play (and the movie). Part of what is fascinating is that some of those observations are that of the ten-year-old Patty Duke as well as the reflective older Patty Duke. It’s a joy to relive the experience with the older Patty Duke who looks back so lovingly on the entire experience and on the play itself.
She also vividly illustrates what sets apart a child actor from an actor who is young. Duke, even then, had the inherent understanding of what it requires to develop and play a character. Yes, the Rosses did offer some training, but that inner director was guiding her even as a child. There are some kids who are very talented in being able to emote and read a line believably—but then there are those kids who are truly actors, able to create an interpretation and to make creative choices in presenting a character. This innate ability is why Duke has survived in the business for so long, still making movies and appearing in plays for long after her childhood stardom days.
One interesting anecdote in the book is that on opening night out of town, the cast had eighteen curtain calls. On Broadway, there were thirteen. While I’ve never had the chance to see The Miracle Worker onstage (I have read it and taught it), it is a reminder that audiences love to be moved. There are so many masterpieces that move you intellectually, that make you feel something for the characters, but to write something that genuinely moves an audience to such a degree with a measure of mind and heart is a unique gift (and talent). That’s why Les Miserables has run for so long whereas other musicals have since opened and closed—it moves people. Laughter is great. It can earn a record-setting number of Tonys. But laughter fades, while something that is sincere, heartfelt, and truly moving always touches the heart.
One particularly heartfelt moment in Duke’s book is when she reflects back upon her father, a struggling alcoholic who was pretty much run out of her life by her controlling managers. Some years after the run of the play, a woman tells Duke that three or four times a week during the run of The Miracle Worker, her father would use his pittance of money to buy standing room tickets to The Miracle Worker just to be near his daughter, never once going backstage or approaching her.
the Broadway Mouth
November 27, 2007
For Your Irresistible Viewing Pleasure:
My first encounter with the talent of Patty Duke was in the Nick at Night reruns of her sitcom The Patty Duke Show. We didn’t have cable growing up, but when I’d sleep over at a friend’s house, I’d always sleep on the couch in the living room, where I could stay up late watching great old shows on Nickelodeon. I was never put off by black and white shows because I had grown up loving The Honeymooners, Father Knows Best, and The Andy Griffith Show even though I grew up in the era of 227, The Facts of Life, and Amen.
I guess the appeal of the show was both the spunkiness of Duke’s dual characters—particularly spunky was Patty—and the writing, which was always youthful and clever. I probably laughed more from The Patty Duke Show than I do from anything currently on primetime.
For Broadway audiences, though, she is best known for her work as Helen Keller in William Gibson’s play The Miracle Worker and her recreation of that role in the original film version.
In her book, Duke spends much time addressing the issue of her unusual childhood, which, in short, was completely controlled by her monstrous managers John and Ethel Ross; however, the section I have been riveted by is her detailing of her experiences in The Miracle Worker. Because Duke was writing this in the mid-80s, she is giving the adult perspective on her time in the play (and the movie). Part of what is fascinating is that some of those observations are that of the ten-year-old Patty Duke as well as the reflective older Patty Duke. It’s a joy to relive the experience with the older Patty Duke who looks back so lovingly on the entire experience and on the play itself.
She also vividly illustrates what sets apart a child actor from an actor who is young. Duke, even then, had the inherent understanding of what it requires to develop and play a character. Yes, the Rosses did offer some training, but that inner director was guiding her even as a child. There are some kids who are very talented in being able to emote and read a line believably—but then there are those kids who are truly actors, able to create an interpretation and to make creative choices in presenting a character. This innate ability is why Duke has survived in the business for so long, still making movies and appearing in plays for long after her childhood stardom days.
One interesting anecdote in the book is that on opening night out of town, the cast had eighteen curtain calls. On Broadway, there were thirteen. While I’ve never had the chance to see The Miracle Worker onstage (I have read it and taught it), it is a reminder that audiences love to be moved. There are so many masterpieces that move you intellectually, that make you feel something for the characters, but to write something that genuinely moves an audience to such a degree with a measure of mind and heart is a unique gift (and talent). That’s why Les Miserables has run for so long whereas other musicals have since opened and closed—it moves people. Laughter is great. It can earn a record-setting number of Tonys. But laughter fades, while something that is sincere, heartfelt, and truly moving always touches the heart.
One particularly heartfelt moment in Duke’s book is when she reflects back upon her father, a struggling alcoholic who was pretty much run out of her life by her controlling managers. Some years after the run of the play, a woman tells Duke that three or four times a week during the run of The Miracle Worker, her father would use his pittance of money to buy standing room tickets to The Miracle Worker just to be near his daughter, never once going backstage or approaching her.
the Broadway Mouth
November 27, 2007
For Your Irresistible Viewing Pleasure:
Monday, November 12, 2007
Wicked: The Grimmerie (A Book Report)
by Balliwon Grunmouer
Guest Ozian Book Report Writer
For my book report, I read David Cote’s marvedible book on the Broadway musical Wicked. Lots of humans have seen Wicked, which is an attempt to tell the true story of Elphaba of Oz, following the theories of her actual survival (giving credence to the sightings at a McMorrible’s on the edge of the Impassable Desert, according to the latest Wizernet reports).
Most Ozians are flattered by the human fascification of our Ozian history, but I for one don’t always apprecify their mis-represtentiveness of our culture. However, even as an educated Ozian, I cannot help but find Stephen Schwartz’s songs hummateous and book-writer Winnie Holzman’s Ozian vernacular is so spot-on, she is like the Mark Twain of our land.
If you haven’t read Wicked: The Grimmerie, it’s the story of the making of the Broadway musical Wicked from when Stephen Schwartz contacted lead producer Marc Platt about musifying it for the Broadway stage to its writing and production—including the nature of book writer Winnie Holzman and songwriter Stephen Schwartz’s collaboration, Stephanie J. Block’s role in the original readings, and the out-of-town tryout in San Francisco. For anyoz interested in how a musical is creativated, it is an interesterous read.
It’s always interesterous to hear artists talking about their creativate choices, and Wicked: The Grimmerie pulls back the curtain for all to see. For each of his songs, we are given Stephen Schwartz’s insights into each, including what role they have in the story, what the germigate ideas were, and his own emotions related to them. Many of the other creative elements—dance, sets, costumes—also get detailed discussion with first-hand words from the creativate talents about what they desired to achieviate.
Often the original cast members get the glory and all those who follow the originals get forgotten. That’s why it’s so marvedible that Cote details the various interpretations of the characters, using original, replacement, and tour cast members to give insights. This not only provides fans a splendalacious insight into the characters, but it is a fascinatious snapshot into the acting craft. The replacement and tour cast members are also given face-time in lusherizing full-color pictures.
The book is not without its teen girl section with fan-girl fluff that provides little more than eye candy, such as “The Primer,” which provides great pictures (always of appreciatance) and such insightful information as that Elphaba is “Frequently Seen With: Flying broom and The Grimmerie tucked under one arm.” I couldn’t live without knowing that.
There’s also a meatified section of the song lyrics with contextual dialogue. Unfortunately, much of that dialogue is summarized in paragraphs, so it’s not very helpful in trying to understand how the songs are integrated. It’s great to have the lyrics there for instant access (illustrated with beautifulized Joan Marcus photographs), but without the full libretto (which would have been most desirated) or at least unedited libretto sectionotions, the selected format for presenting them is kind of pointless.
After reading the book, I gained a fresh appreciation for what Wicked sets out to do and why it has spoken so vividly to so many humans, but what I most appreciated it for was presenting an insightful view into the creative process. I have a feeling many Ozians (and humans too) who like to theatricalize will be surprised at how insightful it is.
So, that is my book report. I am very happy I read it, and I am very very very very very very very sure you will like it too.
But don’t take my word for it.
Balliwon Grunmouer (with some editing assistance from the Broadway Mouth)
November 12, 2007
Guest Ozian Book Report Writer
For my book report, I read David Cote’s marvedible book on the Broadway musical Wicked. Lots of humans have seen Wicked, which is an attempt to tell the true story of Elphaba of Oz, following the theories of her actual survival (giving credence to the sightings at a McMorrible’s on the edge of the Impassable Desert, according to the latest Wizernet reports).
Most Ozians are flattered by the human fascification of our Ozian history, but I for one don’t always apprecify their mis-represtentiveness of our culture. However, even as an educated Ozian, I cannot help but find Stephen Schwartz’s songs hummateous and book-writer Winnie Holzman’s Ozian vernacular is so spot-on, she is like the Mark Twain of our land.
If you haven’t read Wicked: The Grimmerie, it’s the story of the making of the Broadway musical Wicked from when Stephen Schwartz contacted lead producer Marc Platt about musifying it for the Broadway stage to its writing and production—including the nature of book writer Winnie Holzman and songwriter Stephen Schwartz’s collaboration, Stephanie J. Block’s role in the original readings, and the out-of-town tryout in San Francisco. For anyoz interested in how a musical is creativated, it is an interesterous read.
It’s always interesterous to hear artists talking about their creativate choices, and Wicked: The Grimmerie pulls back the curtain for all to see. For each of his songs, we are given Stephen Schwartz’s insights into each, including what role they have in the story, what the germigate ideas were, and his own emotions related to them. Many of the other creative elements—dance, sets, costumes—also get detailed discussion with first-hand words from the creativate talents about what they desired to achieviate.
Often the original cast members get the glory and all those who follow the originals get forgotten. That’s why it’s so marvedible that Cote details the various interpretations of the characters, using original, replacement, and tour cast members to give insights. This not only provides fans a splendalacious insight into the characters, but it is a fascinatious snapshot into the acting craft. The replacement and tour cast members are also given face-time in lusherizing full-color pictures.
The book is not without its teen girl section with fan-girl fluff that provides little more than eye candy, such as “The Primer,” which provides great pictures (always of appreciatance) and such insightful information as that Elphaba is “Frequently Seen With: Flying broom and The Grimmerie tucked under one arm.” I couldn’t live without knowing that.
There’s also a meatified section of the song lyrics with contextual dialogue. Unfortunately, much of that dialogue is summarized in paragraphs, so it’s not very helpful in trying to understand how the songs are integrated. It’s great to have the lyrics there for instant access (illustrated with beautifulized Joan Marcus photographs), but without the full libretto (which would have been most desirated) or at least unedited libretto sectionotions, the selected format for presenting them is kind of pointless.
After reading the book, I gained a fresh appreciation for what Wicked sets out to do and why it has spoken so vividly to so many humans, but what I most appreciated it for was presenting an insightful view into the creative process. I have a feeling many Ozians (and humans too) who like to theatricalize will be surprised at how insightful it is.
So, that is my book report. I am very happy I read it, and I am very very very very very very very sure you will like it too.
But don’t take my word for it.
Balliwon Grunmouer (with some editing assistance from the Broadway Mouth)
November 12, 2007
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Eight Top Ten Theatre Books I Love
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
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
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