Here's a teaser (of sorts) for the Rent: Filmed Live on Broadway screenings. There's not a lot of meat there, but just hearing the song makes me excited to see it.
Showing posts with label Rent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rent. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Friday, March 7, 2008
Pop Culture?
I’ve been talking much lately about getting Broadway into mainstream culture. Well, one way of that happening is getting people to write about it. Two recent articles of note that you might be interested in and links to them:
Entertainment Weekly, March 3, 2008—This is the issue with the Oscars on the cover. There’s an article inside that consists of snippets from interviews from people involved with the Broadway and film versions of Rent, including Fredi Walker-Browne and Daphne Rubin-Vega discussing not being in the movie.
Time, March 10, 2008—This is the issue with the back of Obama’s head on the covering and the headline “How Much Does Experience Matter?” There’s a great article here about the closing of Rent and, more importantly, discussing the future of Broadway in terms of reaching out to new audiences and changing the storytelling perspectives to more personal subject matter (which I recently wrote about myself). The article highlights In the Heights and Passing Strange.
the Broadway Mouth
March 7, 2008
Entertainment Weekly, March 3, 2008—This is the issue with the Oscars on the cover. There’s an article inside that consists of snippets from interviews from people involved with the Broadway and film versions of Rent, including Fredi Walker-Browne and Daphne Rubin-Vega discussing not being in the movie.
Time, March 10, 2008—This is the issue with the back of Obama’s head on the covering and the headline “How Much Does Experience Matter?” There’s a great article here about the closing of Rent and, more importantly, discussing the future of Broadway in terms of reaching out to new audiences and changing the storytelling perspectives to more personal subject matter (which I recently wrote about myself). The article highlights In the Heights and Passing Strange.
the Broadway Mouth
March 7, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 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
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:
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:
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
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
Friday, December 28, 2007
Broadway Documentaries: Feature Film Bonus Feature Bonanzas
Hairspray Shake and Shimmy Edition
As part of the 2-Disc DVD edition, we get a chance to explore the roots of the musical Hairspray, including the hit Broadway show. The original producers take part is explaining how the Broadway production came to be. Interestingly, lead producer Margo Lion talks about searching for a youth-friendly property, not necessarily a movie-based property, when she stumbled upon the film of Hairspray. She and the other producers do take us through their journey of workshops, with some additional insights from librettists Mark O’Donnell and Thomas Meehan. The only cast member to share experiences, though, is Marissa Jaret Winokur, who addresses not only her battle with cancer but also her tortured history with the show. She was the first Tracy the creators saw, and as she plugged on through the workshop process, she kept being forewarned that she would not be their final choice to open the show. Sadly, the doc contains no clips from the show, only still pictures, though there is a sampling of Nathan Lane singing as Wilbur Turnblad.
Honestly, it’s not a particularly insightful detailing of the creation of the Broadway show, but for someone who eats up that kind of information, I am still glad to have doled out the extra money for the 2-Disc edition just to have it.
Rent 2-Disc Special Edition
Okay, so I’m not really a Renthead. It’s not that I don’t greatly admire the late great Jonathon Larson’s work; it’s just one of those cases where the material, as a whole, doesn’t resonate with my experiences.
For me, though, the purchase of the 2-Disc edition of the movie was a must because of No Day But Today, the excellent doc on not only the making of the Broadway show but also on Jonathon Larson’s life, drawing on the remembrances of close friends as well as family members. As one who aspires to be produced on Broadway (and elsewhere), I found great inspiration in Larson’s life story, which is not only filled with a thriving in the joy of lack but also a love for life and art, the pain of learning the hard way, and the jubilation of triumph. I also found inspiration in the mechanics of Jonathon Larson’s success, the knowledge of what he had to do to get where he got.
After establishing many of the sources of inspiration for the events and characters of Rent, the documentary (which runs almost two hours) details the workshop and off-Broadway production of the show, including the process of casting and the pain of collaboration. It walks us through Jonathon Larson’s unexpected death as well as those days after in which the cast and creative team found a way to move on, as well as the show’s triumphant opening on Broadway. In fact, not even a full thirty minutes of the doc is dedicated to the film version. Best of all, the producers of No Day But Today call on original cast members Daphne Rubin-Vega and Fredi Walker to share their experiences in the process.
We’ve had a string of fantastic documentaries in recent years—Broadway: The Golden Age, Broadway: The American Musical, and Show Business: The Road to Broadway—and Rent’s No Day But Today belongs right up there with it.
The Phantom of the Opera 2-Disc Special Edition
Count me as one of those who really enjoyed the film adaptation of The Phantom of the Opera, a show I enjoyed on stage but was more blown away by the movie. I probably never would have bought the DVD, though, because I find it pretty much impossible to set aside the chunk of time needed to watch it all. However, I couldn’t pass it up when I heard about Behind the Mask: The Story of The Phantom of the Opera documentary on the 2-Disc edition.
If Behind the Mask is less interesting than No Day But Today it’s because The Phantom of the Opera is a less interesting show than Rent without the seasoning of the passion and struggles of a starving artist in the story of Jonathan Larson. Still, Behind the Mask is an interesting snapshot into the creative mind of one of the most successful and beloved theatrical composers of our time.
Running just over an hour, Behind the Mask follows Andrew Lloyd Webber’s show from the idea to the final production, peppered with many scenes from the stage show. As one might expect in such a thorough documentary, it covers the hiring on of key creative personnel, including interviews with them about their experiences. Hal Prince shows up for the documentary, as do lyricists Richard Stilgoe and Charles Hart. Included in the story is the show’s premiere at Sydmonton, Webber’s country estate where he annually premieres shows and songs. At one early presentation of The Phantom of the Opera, the Phantom was played by Colm Wilkinson, who appears here in footage from that 1985 performance (as does original Raoul Steve Barton in a later Sydmonton performance).
There’s the inclusion of the story of original lyricist Richard Stilgoe and “replacement” Charles Hart, with them discussing how they view their work today. Of interest is the inclusion of original Phantom Steve Harley (whose biggest regret in leaving the show was not being able to work with Hal Prince, whom he says changed his life).
The doc is loaded with clips from the stage production as well as the original music videos that were used to promote the show in London. We even get the scene from the stage show in which Christine’s voice gets replaced by a pre-recorded track, a switch which is identifiable only if you know about its use in advance. Choreographer Gillian Lynne also explains her choices in “Masquerade” which help cover up the use of dummies on the stage (which I had not known about until seeing this doc, and I’m not alone—according to Hal Prince, George Abbott didn’t figure it out either). We even get to see the dummies up close to see how they work. Also of interest is the inclusion of some photos of the process used in creating the look of the Phantom.
I guess if I despised The Phantom of the Opera (as some theatre folk do), I wouldn’t enjoy the documentary, and while there are no great revelations overall, not a whole lot that a creator myself can take away for future reference; it is still a pleasant and worthwhile story of the creation of the longest-running show on Broadway.
the Broadway Mouth
December 28, 2007
P.S. For info on the Bombay Dreams documentary and a musical-themed bonus feature on The Wedding Singer, click on "Broadway documentaries" below.
As part of the 2-Disc DVD edition, we get a chance to explore the roots of the musical Hairspray, including the hit Broadway show. The original producers take part is explaining how the Broadway production came to be. Interestingly, lead producer Margo Lion talks about searching for a youth-friendly property, not necessarily a movie-based property, when she stumbled upon the film of Hairspray. She and the other producers do take us through their journey of workshops, with some additional insights from librettists Mark O’Donnell and Thomas Meehan. The only cast member to share experiences, though, is Marissa Jaret Winokur, who addresses not only her battle with cancer but also her tortured history with the show. She was the first Tracy the creators saw, and as she plugged on through the workshop process, she kept being forewarned that she would not be their final choice to open the show. Sadly, the doc contains no clips from the show, only still pictures, though there is a sampling of Nathan Lane singing as Wilbur Turnblad.
Honestly, it’s not a particularly insightful detailing of the creation of the Broadway show, but for someone who eats up that kind of information, I am still glad to have doled out the extra money for the 2-Disc edition just to have it.
Rent 2-Disc Special Edition
Okay, so I’m not really a Renthead. It’s not that I don’t greatly admire the late great Jonathon Larson’s work; it’s just one of those cases where the material, as a whole, doesn’t resonate with my experiences.
For me, though, the purchase of the 2-Disc edition of the movie was a must because of No Day But Today, the excellent doc on not only the making of the Broadway show but also on Jonathon Larson’s life, drawing on the remembrances of close friends as well as family members. As one who aspires to be produced on Broadway (and elsewhere), I found great inspiration in Larson’s life story, which is not only filled with a thriving in the joy of lack but also a love for life and art, the pain of learning the hard way, and the jubilation of triumph. I also found inspiration in the mechanics of Jonathon Larson’s success, the knowledge of what he had to do to get where he got.
After establishing many of the sources of inspiration for the events and characters of Rent, the documentary (which runs almost two hours) details the workshop and off-Broadway production of the show, including the process of casting and the pain of collaboration. It walks us through Jonathon Larson’s unexpected death as well as those days after in which the cast and creative team found a way to move on, as well as the show’s triumphant opening on Broadway. In fact, not even a full thirty minutes of the doc is dedicated to the film version. Best of all, the producers of No Day But Today call on original cast members Daphne Rubin-Vega and Fredi Walker to share their experiences in the process.
We’ve had a string of fantastic documentaries in recent years—Broadway: The Golden Age, Broadway: The American Musical, and Show Business: The Road to Broadway—and Rent’s No Day But Today belongs right up there with it.
The Phantom of the Opera 2-Disc Special Edition
Count me as one of those who really enjoyed the film adaptation of The Phantom of the Opera, a show I enjoyed on stage but was more blown away by the movie. I probably never would have bought the DVD, though, because I find it pretty much impossible to set aside the chunk of time needed to watch it all. However, I couldn’t pass it up when I heard about Behind the Mask: The Story of The Phantom of the Opera documentary on the 2-Disc edition.
If Behind the Mask is less interesting than No Day But Today it’s because The Phantom of the Opera is a less interesting show than Rent without the seasoning of the passion and struggles of a starving artist in the story of Jonathan Larson. Still, Behind the Mask is an interesting snapshot into the creative mind of one of the most successful and beloved theatrical composers of our time.
Running just over an hour, Behind the Mask follows Andrew Lloyd Webber’s show from the idea to the final production, peppered with many scenes from the stage show. As one might expect in such a thorough documentary, it covers the hiring on of key creative personnel, including interviews with them about their experiences. Hal Prince shows up for the documentary, as do lyricists Richard Stilgoe and Charles Hart. Included in the story is the show’s premiere at Sydmonton, Webber’s country estate where he annually premieres shows and songs. At one early presentation of The Phantom of the Opera, the Phantom was played by Colm Wilkinson, who appears here in footage from that 1985 performance (as does original Raoul Steve Barton in a later Sydmonton performance).
There’s the inclusion of the story of original lyricist Richard Stilgoe and “replacement” Charles Hart, with them discussing how they view their work today. Of interest is the inclusion of original Phantom Steve Harley (whose biggest regret in leaving the show was not being able to work with Hal Prince, whom he says changed his life).
The doc is loaded with clips from the stage production as well as the original music videos that were used to promote the show in London. We even get the scene from the stage show in which Christine’s voice gets replaced by a pre-recorded track, a switch which is identifiable only if you know about its use in advance. Choreographer Gillian Lynne also explains her choices in “Masquerade” which help cover up the use of dummies on the stage (which I had not known about until seeing this doc, and I’m not alone—according to Hal Prince, George Abbott didn’t figure it out either). We even get to see the dummies up close to see how they work. Also of interest is the inclusion of some photos of the process used in creating the look of the Phantom.
I guess if I despised The Phantom of the Opera (as some theatre folk do), I wouldn’t enjoy the documentary, and while there are no great revelations overall, not a whole lot that a creator myself can take away for future reference; it is still a pleasant and worthwhile story of the creation of the longest-running show on Broadway.
the Broadway Mouth
December 28, 2007
P.S. For info on the Bombay Dreams documentary and a musical-themed bonus feature on The Wedding Singer, click on "Broadway documentaries" below.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
You Simply Cannot Do It Alone or, How I Became a Theatre Expert in Three Easy Steps
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 was 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 dependent 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
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 was 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 dependent 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
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Bottom Line: Returning to a Show = Pleasing the Fans
I would love to be able to see Idina Menzel play Elphaba. I’d love to see Matthew Morrison as Link. I’d also love to see Marissa Jaret Winokur as Tracy Turnblad.
With the recent return of Adam Pascal and Anthony Rapp to the cast of Rent, there’s been chatter about some perceived fall from whatever perceived pedestal for these two very talented actors. I think that’s so dumb. Big Broadway stars who originate roles in shows often have a big following of Broadway fans. This mentality that it’s a step down to go back into a show after two or three or ten years makes no sense.
I would die to see Heather Headley play Aida again—on Broadway, at a dinner theatre, a community theatre, in her living room. I don’t care. That was an amazing performance. If a star wants to return to a show, what a better way to pay respects to your fans. Just look at the numbers Rent has posted since Pascal and Rapp returned. They are making thousands of fans so happy every single night. How can anyone possibly be critical about that?
Personally, I wish more stars would do it. I understand that doing a show for a year or two is going to have its limits in return appeal, but if that performer feels able to come in and give 100% to that character, then if anything, to honor their fans they should do it!
I do get frustrated when, in interviews, people say things like, “I’d never return to that show,” which can easily be interpreted as “I’m too good for that now” even though it’s probably more likely, “I don’t know if that excites me again because I already did 620 times and by that time, I couldn’t Shipoopi (or insert any other potentially tiring song/dance in there) one more time.”
But we all get the chance to change our mind, particularly when we are young. My gosh, I’d hate it if someone recorded all my words from when I was twenty-five and threw it back in my face. I’ve certainly grown up since those years, and Broadway performers deserve the right to go through their own experiences without being judged. What matters most is that they are able to come in now and give a spectacular fan-pleasing performance.
I also really don’t like the mentality some people have as far as status and the roles you accept. A great role in a great show is a great role in a great show no matter how many other people have played it. I can understand Kerry Butler, who has now had leads in a number of shows, not wanting to return to a supporting part in Hairspray because of the effect it could have on their career. But I love how Marin Mazzie takes great roles, even if she’s not originating them. I love Marin Mazzie, and I would have loved to have seen her in Man of La Mancha. Personally, I have no interest in Spamalot, but I would eagerly see it to catch Marin Mazzie doing what she does so amazingly well. Good for her! And even better for us.
A great performance is a great performance. If you can give a great performance and give your fans a memory to last a lifetime, is there anything better you can do?
the Broadway Mouth
August 29, 2007
With the recent return of Adam Pascal and Anthony Rapp to the cast of Rent, there’s been chatter about some perceived fall from whatever perceived pedestal for these two very talented actors. I think that’s so dumb. Big Broadway stars who originate roles in shows often have a big following of Broadway fans. This mentality that it’s a step down to go back into a show after two or three or ten years makes no sense.
I would die to see Heather Headley play Aida again—on Broadway, at a dinner theatre, a community theatre, in her living room. I don’t care. That was an amazing performance. If a star wants to return to a show, what a better way to pay respects to your fans. Just look at the numbers Rent has posted since Pascal and Rapp returned. They are making thousands of fans so happy every single night. How can anyone possibly be critical about that?
Personally, I wish more stars would do it. I understand that doing a show for a year or two is going to have its limits in return appeal, but if that performer feels able to come in and give 100% to that character, then if anything, to honor their fans they should do it!
I do get frustrated when, in interviews, people say things like, “I’d never return to that show,” which can easily be interpreted as “I’m too good for that now” even though it’s probably more likely, “I don’t know if that excites me again because I already did 620 times and by that time, I couldn’t Shipoopi (or insert any other potentially tiring song/dance in there) one more time.”
But we all get the chance to change our mind, particularly when we are young. My gosh, I’d hate it if someone recorded all my words from when I was twenty-five and threw it back in my face. I’ve certainly grown up since those years, and Broadway performers deserve the right to go through their own experiences without being judged. What matters most is that they are able to come in now and give a spectacular fan-pleasing performance.
I also really don’t like the mentality some people have as far as status and the roles you accept. A great role in a great show is a great role in a great show no matter how many other people have played it. I can understand Kerry Butler, who has now had leads in a number of shows, not wanting to return to a supporting part in Hairspray because of the effect it could have on their career. But I love how Marin Mazzie takes great roles, even if she’s not originating them. I love Marin Mazzie, and I would have loved to have seen her in Man of La Mancha. Personally, I have no interest in Spamalot, but I would eagerly see it to catch Marin Mazzie doing what she does so amazingly well. Good for her! And even better for us.
A great performance is a great performance. If you can give a great performance and give your fans a memory to last a lifetime, is there anything better you can do?
the Broadway Mouth
August 29, 2007
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