The Drowsy Chaperone has a very interesting score, particularly when you consider how the show is constructed. A number of the songs are of a declarative nature, where characters have the opportunity to sing about themselves. These are not typically the best songs in any particular show. For example, two of the songs that always get skipped on my Damn Yankees CD are “A Little Brains, A Little Talent” and “Those Were the Good Old Days.”
Why declarative songs tend to be less interesting is probably due to the flat dramatic nature of the song and situation. In a declarative song, the reliance has to be on humor because, after one verse, the information communicated just gets repeated, but if the humor is of clever rhymes and funny situations being told, that alone usually isn’t enough to garner repeat laughs.
Listen to Lisa Lambert and Greg Morrison’s score of The Drowsy Chaperone, however, which is happily repeatable even though its short score contains three significant declarative songs, all of which remain hilarious and/or charming upon repeating listening.
My favorite in the show is “Show Off,” Janet Van De Graaff’s declaration of her desire to give up the stage for married life, all the while basking in the glow of that which she insists she doesn’t want. What tremendously fun lyrics and music (and creative staging) executed with perfection by Sutton Foster.
When I finally saw the show on Broadway, I had seen the number performed on the Tony Awards repeatedly, and not only was it still as exciting as if I had never seen it before, it was beautifully topped with Kitty’s, “Yeah, I’m surprised she didn’t do an encore,” followed by, of course, Miss Van De Graaff’s entrance with, “I don’t wanna encore no more.”
Perfection.
the Broadway Mouth
June 21, 2008
Showing posts with label The Drowsy Chaperone. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Drowsy Chaperone. Show all posts
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Redefining Success: How Long Does a Show Need to Be Running?
I love the exceptions we set up. No one wants this onslaught of jukebox musicals to continue. Except the music of ________________ would make a great show. Disney needs to stop doing Broadway! Except for the movie ________________ which really would make for a great Broadway musical. And those long-running shows—enough already! Except ________________ is closing too soon!
This was particularly prominent when Beauty and the Beast was closing. Despite all the online objections to Beauty and the Beast being a carbon copy cartoon on stage, on its lack of integrity as a Broadway show, and so on, the moment Disney posted the closing notice, it seems like everyone was saying how Beauty and the Beast should be running longer, that it was sad to see it go so soon.
Broadway fanatics respond to shows very personally. It is as if the alchemy of costumes, book, music, choreography, lighting, sets, and marquee form a human being, we get so attached. Our favorite performers may no longer even be in the show, but we mourn over lost experiences that can never be recreated, the new audiences that will never get to laugh at that joke or be awed by that choreography.
The result is that we want theatres to open up for great new shows without having to lose their previous occupants. Recently there has been much online speculation about the impending closing of The Drowsy Chaperone and The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee based on weekly grosses (neither of which has announced closing) plus much conjecture about Legally Blonde. Each of these shows have their own fan bases, so . . . no one can bare to see ________________ close so early!
In the Golden Era, shows lasted a couple seasons if they were a big hit—My Fair Lady lasted six and that was a mega-hit—then closed. Today, though, we have a new standard, the enormous number of performances racked up by Cats, The Phantom of the Opera, Les Miserables, and Miss Saigon. If you compare, say, The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee to Miss Saigon, okay, its run will be short then.
But even though we have this new definition of a long-running show, the formula for determining success still remains. If a Broadway musical stays open long enough to re-coup its initial investment, then that’s time for celebration. If, like the two current shows named above, they not only re-coup their investments but also brings in some profit . . . then that’s all the success anyone can require of a show. If a show closes breaking even or earning a profit, then its closing is a time for hearty celebration, for not only has it entertained many people but its closing is now nurturing a new musical production which can open in that newly vacant theatre.
So, let’s keep mourning the passing of our favorite shows, but let’s also keep it all in perspective. If A Chorus Line were to close tomorrow (the show’s numbers seem healthy, so it is very doubtful it’ll be closing soon), the show has already turned a profit, as has The Lion King, Wicked, Jersey Boys, and a bunch of other long-running shows.
Who could ask for anything more?
the Broadway Mouth
October 18, 2007
This was particularly prominent when Beauty and the Beast was closing. Despite all the online objections to Beauty and the Beast being a carbon copy cartoon on stage, on its lack of integrity as a Broadway show, and so on, the moment Disney posted the closing notice, it seems like everyone was saying how Beauty and the Beast should be running longer, that it was sad to see it go so soon.
Broadway fanatics respond to shows very personally. It is as if the alchemy of costumes, book, music, choreography, lighting, sets, and marquee form a human being, we get so attached. Our favorite performers may no longer even be in the show, but we mourn over lost experiences that can never be recreated, the new audiences that will never get to laugh at that joke or be awed by that choreography.
The result is that we want theatres to open up for great new shows without having to lose their previous occupants. Recently there has been much online speculation about the impending closing of The Drowsy Chaperone and The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee based on weekly grosses (neither of which has announced closing) plus much conjecture about Legally Blonde. Each of these shows have their own fan bases, so . . . no one can bare to see ________________ close so early!
In the Golden Era, shows lasted a couple seasons if they were a big hit—My Fair Lady lasted six and that was a mega-hit—then closed. Today, though, we have a new standard, the enormous number of performances racked up by Cats, The Phantom of the Opera, Les Miserables, and Miss Saigon. If you compare, say, The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee to Miss Saigon, okay, its run will be short then.
But even though we have this new definition of a long-running show, the formula for determining success still remains. If a Broadway musical stays open long enough to re-coup its initial investment, then that’s time for celebration. If, like the two current shows named above, they not only re-coup their investments but also brings in some profit . . . then that’s all the success anyone can require of a show. If a show closes breaking even or earning a profit, then its closing is a time for hearty celebration, for not only has it entertained many people but its closing is now nurturing a new musical production which can open in that newly vacant theatre.
So, let’s keep mourning the passing of our favorite shows, but let’s also keep it all in perspective. If A Chorus Line were to close tomorrow (the show’s numbers seem healthy, so it is very doubtful it’ll be closing soon), the show has already turned a profit, as has The Lion King, Wicked, Jersey Boys, and a bunch of other long-running shows.
Who could ask for anything more?
the Broadway Mouth
October 18, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Get with the (Souvenir) Program
I never leave for a show without the money to buy a souvenir program. To me, the CD and the program are essential elements of the experience. You pay $80+ for the show, and not only do you want to remember every minute of that awesome/expensive experience, you want pictures to help you remember and the music to relive it again and again.
When I come home from New York on the plane, the care of my souvenir programs is of utmost concern. I don’t want smashed corners or bent pages. That means they never go in my suitcases or in overhead compartments. I make sure one of my carry-ons is a nice plastic shopping bag that is small enough to keep my programs close together, and I slide it carefully under the seat before me. I then don’t move my legs (which are quite long, since I am 6’ 5”) for the entire flight unless I can do so without stepping on my programs.
Thankfully, they all still look as good as new.
Lately I’ve seen a few programs popping up at used bookstores in my area, which is how I got my Ragtime program (a souvenir of my Lincoln Center Theatre archive viewing). I often pick them up and am surprised at how vapid a number of them have been, more filler and fluff than actual substance. Now, I know not every theatre-goer out there is as obsessive as I, but on some of these, I can see why they’d have no problem selling them for a quarter to a used bookstore.
If you’re paying $10 (or $20 at Tarzan with a cheap bag), you want something to help you preserve the memory. No wonder people were selling of these Rent tour and various other programs. They gave no real clue about what they had seen on stage. Obviously at one point they wanted to preserve the memory, so the show must have been dear them enough to pay for the program in the first place.
I love my programs. When I want to remember how great Jane Eyre was, I just page through the beautiful photographs. When I want to remember how much I laughed during Kiss Me, Kate, I’ll pick up the Broadway or the tour cast program. If I want to remember how great Jayne Patterson was as Fantine, I pull out one of my Les Miserables programs.
And I know I’m not the only one.
Sometimes, though, I do think the producers’ perspective of what we want to remember and what the audience really wants to get are two different things.
So, dear producers, here are some guidelines to help you as you assemble the program you want to sell to aid your bottom line and to aid us in remembering a (hopefully) magical experience.
1. We want pictures. Lots of them that we can easily see.
On this front, The Color Purple program had to be about the most disappointing program I’ve ever gotten. Many of the pages consisted only of one large picture spread out across two pages. There’s one beautiful picture of LaChanze when Celie finds Nettie’s letters, where the crease comes in at her shoulder, which damages the effect. And since the picture is basically LaChanze (lit beautifully) surrounded by pitch black stage, I’m not sure show two pages were needed for that picture, particularly considering the program as a whole.
In addition to the overall shortage of pictures, there are a good number of pictures printed in the program which are so small, they might as well not be included. Seriously. God forbid you should want to remember any of the supporting characters. For such a beautiful show, you’d think they could include something to better help you remember it.
There is, however, a nice picture of Oprah, as if we don’t get a chance to see her often. She looks great, of course, but she wasn’t in the show.
2. Fewer words. There can be one page dedicated to words about the show, but that’s really about it.
In The Color Purple, we get one page dedicated to Oprah telling about how the book changed her life (she already gets a whole monthly magazine and a daily television show to tell us about herself and her experiences). There’s also a page dedicated to Alice Walker and the various incarnations of The Color Purple (with two very small shots from the show at the bottom, relegating Krisha Marcano’s beloved Squeak to a size smaller than my thumb). There’s also two pages about the creation of the show, and another page dedicated to the composer/lyricists and choreographer. There’s also one page (two bottom halfs) detailing the history of juke joints, and one page and a quarter (roughly ¾ of two pages) dedicated to a timeline of African-American history. Then writer Marsha Norman—oddly enough, almost the least-winded of them all—get her say in less than a page of writing (spread out into two pages). I’m surprised the stage hands don’t have a page to share their thoughts, though perhaps that’s one thing that’ll be negotiated for soon.
So, did I buy this program to remember the $120 I spent on The Color Purple or to get a textbook on African-American history?
My Wicked program is an example of an exceptional program in this regards. There is one page dedicated to Gregory Maguire (spread out over two half-pages), and the rest is pretty much pictures that don’t require a magnifying glass to identify.
And even though the cast pictured is the Broadway cast and not the original tour cast that I saw, the pictures are of significant scenes and costumes so that I can vividly recall the images I experienced that wonderful night.
3. Don’t get too cutesy. Stylish design is good, but you don’t want it to overpower the content. A board game in the Urinetown program, for example, is great fun . . . until you realize how much space it’s taking from other content.
Similarly, my program for The Drowsy Chaperone has ten pages of fun fluff. The pictures in the rest of the program are spectacular, but when I find myself looking I through it again, the two pages dedicated to Gable and Stein’s stable aren’t very interesting. The ten pages of Man in Chair’s scrapbook don’t help me remember the show.
4. Remember your audience. Why do people buy souvenir programs? To help them remember the wonderful experience they just had. As flattering as it surely is, an entire page dedicated to snapshots of the producers at the end of my Hairspray program is not why I bought the program. Don’t get me wrong, I am very thankful for all nineteen people and organizations shown there, but . . . They weren’t in the show, so why are they in the program?
Similarly, the Hairspray souvenir program—which has lots of beautiful pictures of the Original Broadway Cast—sprinkles throughout pictures and bios of the entire creative team. The bios come in the insert in the program (which, by the way, was cleverly printed on a fold-out poster). Not only is it redundant to take up space with them in the program, it’s a repeat of information.
When I see the programs that wind up sold to used bookstores, often, there’s so much information not related to the specific experience that I look at the programs myself and can’t get a feel for what they experienced.
5. Use updated pictures as much as possible. I think, as happens so many times, Cameron Mackintosh leads the way on this one. Towards the end of its tour, Les Miserables would hit my city almost yearly. And with every pass through, the souvenir program would be updated with the cast changes. It was a smart move on Mackintosh’s part because I bet I’m not the only one who didn’t mind double-dipping, particularly when it came to getting photos of favorite performances (for me, it was the amazing Jayne Patterson as Fantine).
It seems to be happening less now, but on tour, it often seems like we just get the New York cast in our photos. That’s still nice, but since it is supposed to be a souvenir of what we just saw, updated photos would be ideal.
And I know late in runs, the New York programs tend to be an amalgam of photos from various casts. I bet most theatre-goers would prefer to see photos of their cast rather than a mix of great casts of the past.
6. Make sure that there is a souvenir program!
Probably the strangest purchase I ever made was a program I got at the Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat tour with Patrick Cassidy and Deborah Gibson, which not only didn’t feature the cast I saw, but it wasn’t even the production. I think it was a program of photos from perhaps the original Broadway production. Strange.
I figure if the non-Equity tour of Godspell can come to town with not only a program of the cast but a CD as well, a Broadway tour could at least manage a souvenir program.
I’ve been fortunate that for several tours, I was able to get missing programs on a trip to New York, but it is annoying to see a show and to discover that the program isn’t available. Sometimes it’s a matter of printing times, such as when The Music Man was so new in New York, the programs just weren’t made yet. However, on a tour like Annie Get Your Gun or The King and I, which had been playing in New York for some time, some form of souvenir program should have been possible until new ones were printed.
Two exemplary souvenir programs that I remember are the programs for Bells are Ringing and Tarzan. For Bells are Ringing, there were a ton of pictures throughout (literally from cover to cover), of varying sizes but all large enough to easily see what was going on. The design includes lines on each page, I think to represent telephone lines, but they don’t obscure any pictures. There is writing (a piece from Betty Comden on the inspiration for the show, two historical sections on prices in 1956 and the history of communication, and a few paragraphs from the producer, and about a page from the director), but the best part is that these writings seem secondary to the photographs. They are beside the pictures, in corners of the actual photograph, and above them. A little less writing would have been nice (who cares about a history of communication—what’s the audience for this program?), but the great and many pictures make up for it. This program, by the way, was designed by Dewynters.
It’s almost unfair to use the Tarzan program as a model because it was for a Disney show and is about twice as long as other souvenir programs, no doubt because of the history of Disney’s success on Broadway (and the additional $10 I paid). The program, however, was filled with so many beautiful photos that the amount of writing doesn’t matter. There are many photos from the show itself, plus many others from photo shoots. There is an essay on Edgar Rice Burroughs, three paragraphs from producer Thomas Schumacher, and a few snippets here and there on the creative team for the show. But it is essentially a luscious book loaded with pictures printed on very high quality paper (even the insert of the actors’ bios is printed on thicker paper).
My love for Broadway and the excitement for seeing a show runs incredibly deep. There are times that I pick up a brochure or catalogue and I am immediately taken back to great memories when the printing smell is that of a Broadway program. That smell—no, aroma— takes me back to so many great experiences in the theatre that it makes me wish I could go run and see Show Boat again or Urinetown.
Souvenir programs not only help the bottom line for the producers, they are an essential part in recalling the experience for many people in the audience. When well-created, it becomes a permanent memory when the shows are long-gone and the casts have moved on. When not well-created, you can buy them for $3 at your local used bookstore.
the Broadway Mouth
September 18, 2007
When I come home from New York on the plane, the care of my souvenir programs is of utmost concern. I don’t want smashed corners or bent pages. That means they never go in my suitcases or in overhead compartments. I make sure one of my carry-ons is a nice plastic shopping bag that is small enough to keep my programs close together, and I slide it carefully under the seat before me. I then don’t move my legs (which are quite long, since I am 6’ 5”) for the entire flight unless I can do so without stepping on my programs.
Thankfully, they all still look as good as new.
Lately I’ve seen a few programs popping up at used bookstores in my area, which is how I got my Ragtime program (a souvenir of my Lincoln Center Theatre archive viewing). I often pick them up and am surprised at how vapid a number of them have been, more filler and fluff than actual substance. Now, I know not every theatre-goer out there is as obsessive as I, but on some of these, I can see why they’d have no problem selling them for a quarter to a used bookstore.
If you’re paying $10 (or $20 at Tarzan with a cheap bag), you want something to help you preserve the memory. No wonder people were selling of these Rent tour and various other programs. They gave no real clue about what they had seen on stage. Obviously at one point they wanted to preserve the memory, so the show must have been dear them enough to pay for the program in the first place.
I love my programs. When I want to remember how great Jane Eyre was, I just page through the beautiful photographs. When I want to remember how much I laughed during Kiss Me, Kate, I’ll pick up the Broadway or the tour cast program. If I want to remember how great Jayne Patterson was as Fantine, I pull out one of my Les Miserables programs.
And I know I’m not the only one.
Sometimes, though, I do think the producers’ perspective of what we want to remember and what the audience really wants to get are two different things.
So, dear producers, here are some guidelines to help you as you assemble the program you want to sell to aid your bottom line and to aid us in remembering a (hopefully) magical experience.
1. We want pictures. Lots of them that we can easily see.
On this front, The Color Purple program had to be about the most disappointing program I’ve ever gotten. Many of the pages consisted only of one large picture spread out across two pages. There’s one beautiful picture of LaChanze when Celie finds Nettie’s letters, where the crease comes in at her shoulder, which damages the effect. And since the picture is basically LaChanze (lit beautifully) surrounded by pitch black stage, I’m not sure show two pages were needed for that picture, particularly considering the program as a whole.
In addition to the overall shortage of pictures, there are a good number of pictures printed in the program which are so small, they might as well not be included. Seriously. God forbid you should want to remember any of the supporting characters. For such a beautiful show, you’d think they could include something to better help you remember it.
There is, however, a nice picture of Oprah, as if we don’t get a chance to see her often. She looks great, of course, but she wasn’t in the show.
2. Fewer words. There can be one page dedicated to words about the show, but that’s really about it.
In The Color Purple, we get one page dedicated to Oprah telling about how the book changed her life (she already gets a whole monthly magazine and a daily television show to tell us about herself and her experiences). There’s also a page dedicated to Alice Walker and the various incarnations of The Color Purple (with two very small shots from the show at the bottom, relegating Krisha Marcano’s beloved Squeak to a size smaller than my thumb). There’s also two pages about the creation of the show, and another page dedicated to the composer/lyricists and choreographer. There’s also one page (two bottom halfs) detailing the history of juke joints, and one page and a quarter (roughly ¾ of two pages) dedicated to a timeline of African-American history. Then writer Marsha Norman—oddly enough, almost the least-winded of them all—get her say in less than a page of writing (spread out into two pages). I’m surprised the stage hands don’t have a page to share their thoughts, though perhaps that’s one thing that’ll be negotiated for soon.
So, did I buy this program to remember the $120 I spent on The Color Purple or to get a textbook on African-American history?
My Wicked program is an example of an exceptional program in this regards. There is one page dedicated to Gregory Maguire (spread out over two half-pages), and the rest is pretty much pictures that don’t require a magnifying glass to identify.
And even though the cast pictured is the Broadway cast and not the original tour cast that I saw, the pictures are of significant scenes and costumes so that I can vividly recall the images I experienced that wonderful night.
3. Don’t get too cutesy. Stylish design is good, but you don’t want it to overpower the content. A board game in the Urinetown program, for example, is great fun . . . until you realize how much space it’s taking from other content.
Similarly, my program for The Drowsy Chaperone has ten pages of fun fluff. The pictures in the rest of the program are spectacular, but when I find myself looking I through it again, the two pages dedicated to Gable and Stein’s stable aren’t very interesting. The ten pages of Man in Chair’s scrapbook don’t help me remember the show.
4. Remember your audience. Why do people buy souvenir programs? To help them remember the wonderful experience they just had. As flattering as it surely is, an entire page dedicated to snapshots of the producers at the end of my Hairspray program is not why I bought the program. Don’t get me wrong, I am very thankful for all nineteen people and organizations shown there, but . . . They weren’t in the show, so why are they in the program?
Similarly, the Hairspray souvenir program—which has lots of beautiful pictures of the Original Broadway Cast—sprinkles throughout pictures and bios of the entire creative team. The bios come in the insert in the program (which, by the way, was cleverly printed on a fold-out poster). Not only is it redundant to take up space with them in the program, it’s a repeat of information.
When I see the programs that wind up sold to used bookstores, often, there’s so much information not related to the specific experience that I look at the programs myself and can’t get a feel for what they experienced.
5. Use updated pictures as much as possible. I think, as happens so many times, Cameron Mackintosh leads the way on this one. Towards the end of its tour, Les Miserables would hit my city almost yearly. And with every pass through, the souvenir program would be updated with the cast changes. It was a smart move on Mackintosh’s part because I bet I’m not the only one who didn’t mind double-dipping, particularly when it came to getting photos of favorite performances (for me, it was the amazing Jayne Patterson as Fantine).
It seems to be happening less now, but on tour, it often seems like we just get the New York cast in our photos. That’s still nice, but since it is supposed to be a souvenir of what we just saw, updated photos would be ideal.
And I know late in runs, the New York programs tend to be an amalgam of photos from various casts. I bet most theatre-goers would prefer to see photos of their cast rather than a mix of great casts of the past.
6. Make sure that there is a souvenir program!
Probably the strangest purchase I ever made was a program I got at the Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat tour with Patrick Cassidy and Deborah Gibson, which not only didn’t feature the cast I saw, but it wasn’t even the production. I think it was a program of photos from perhaps the original Broadway production. Strange.
I figure if the non-Equity tour of Godspell can come to town with not only a program of the cast but a CD as well, a Broadway tour could at least manage a souvenir program.
I’ve been fortunate that for several tours, I was able to get missing programs on a trip to New York, but it is annoying to see a show and to discover that the program isn’t available. Sometimes it’s a matter of printing times, such as when The Music Man was so new in New York, the programs just weren’t made yet. However, on a tour like Annie Get Your Gun or The King and I, which had been playing in New York for some time, some form of souvenir program should have been possible until new ones were printed.
Two exemplary souvenir programs that I remember are the programs for Bells are Ringing and Tarzan. For Bells are Ringing, there were a ton of pictures throughout (literally from cover to cover), of varying sizes but all large enough to easily see what was going on. The design includes lines on each page, I think to represent telephone lines, but they don’t obscure any pictures. There is writing (a piece from Betty Comden on the inspiration for the show, two historical sections on prices in 1956 and the history of communication, and a few paragraphs from the producer, and about a page from the director), but the best part is that these writings seem secondary to the photographs. They are beside the pictures, in corners of the actual photograph, and above them. A little less writing would have been nice (who cares about a history of communication—what’s the audience for this program?), but the great and many pictures make up for it. This program, by the way, was designed by Dewynters.
It’s almost unfair to use the Tarzan program as a model because it was for a Disney show and is about twice as long as other souvenir programs, no doubt because of the history of Disney’s success on Broadway (and the additional $10 I paid). The program, however, was filled with so many beautiful photos that the amount of writing doesn’t matter. There are many photos from the show itself, plus many others from photo shoots. There is an essay on Edgar Rice Burroughs, three paragraphs from producer Thomas Schumacher, and a few snippets here and there on the creative team for the show. But it is essentially a luscious book loaded with pictures printed on very high quality paper (even the insert of the actors’ bios is printed on thicker paper).
My love for Broadway and the excitement for seeing a show runs incredibly deep. There are times that I pick up a brochure or catalogue and I am immediately taken back to great memories when the printing smell is that of a Broadway program. That smell—no, aroma— takes me back to so many great experiences in the theatre that it makes me wish I could go run and see Show Boat again or Urinetown.
Souvenir programs not only help the bottom line for the producers, they are an essential part in recalling the experience for many people in the audience. When well-created, it becomes a permanent memory when the shows are long-gone and the casts have moved on. When not well-created, you can buy them for $3 at your local used bookstore.
the Broadway Mouth
September 18, 2007
Monday, August 6, 2007
Amazing Broadway Performer: Sutton Foster
It was with great excitement that I sat down in the Marquis Theatre to see The Drowsy Chaperone last August. More than anything, I was so excited to get to see Sutton Foster for the first time. I had seen her on televised performances from both Thoroughly Modern Millie and Little Women and after seeing those shows on tour had picked up their OBCRs, so I was quite familiar with whom Sutton Foster was.
This woman has it all. I hate to do comparisons, but she’s really become the Gwen Verdon or Mary Martin of our time, able to command the stage with her talent, to tackle a variety of roles extremely well, and she’s managed to do it without long stretches between roles. I greatly admire her dedication to the profession. I would never ever hold it against her for going West if she ever chose, but she’s done what several other major Broadway stars of the past decade could have done—making a career on Broadway—but the difference is that she’s choosing to do it. She’s taking on long runs in new shows and running away with our hearts while she’s at it.
I loved her as Janet Van De Graaff. You couldn’t take your eyes off her. She’s got that magnetic stage presence like a Broadway star must have, and she knows how to work her audience. I ate up every second of her performance.
Website: http://www.geocities.com/suttonfosteronline/
the Broadway Mouth
August 6, 2007
This woman has it all. I hate to do comparisons, but she’s really become the Gwen Verdon or Mary Martin of our time, able to command the stage with her talent, to tackle a variety of roles extremely well, and she’s managed to do it without long stretches between roles. I greatly admire her dedication to the profession. I would never ever hold it against her for going West if she ever chose, but she’s done what several other major Broadway stars of the past decade could have done—making a career on Broadway—but the difference is that she’s choosing to do it. She’s taking on long runs in new shows and running away with our hearts while she’s at it.
I loved her as Janet Van De Graaff. You couldn’t take your eyes off her. She’s got that magnetic stage presence like a Broadway star must have, and she knows how to work her audience. I ate up every second of her performance.
Website: http://www.geocities.com/suttonfosteronline/
the Broadway Mouth
August 6, 2007
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Announced for Next Season: The Second Golden Age
When I saw Jane Eyre, I saw next to a woman who cried throughout the whole show. She had seen it seventeen times, if I recall correctly, and she was overcome with emotion because of how wonderful it was and how the show made her feel. I have a friend who made it to New York to see Aida starring Simone, and she told me how she cried at the end. I have another friend who balled at The Color Purple.
I, on the other end, almost lost it during The Wedding Singer. I’m not kidding. I had flown in on a moment’s notice to interview for a job. One day, I was sitting at home hoping for the next phase of my life to jump start, and two days later, I’m sitting in seat D115 in the Al Hirschfeld Theatre watching my first Broadway show on Broadway since my second visit to The Music Man in 2001.
I’m not even a crier. Honestly. But to be sitting there watching an awesome number like “It’s Your Wedding Day” in person on Broadway after watching it over and over from the Tony Awards, I was overcome with emotion. Even though I had seen every show that was even decent on tour, I told myself, “No matter what happens, I have to make it back here again soon. It’s been too long.”
I had a great time seeing lots of fun shows on that trip, The Wedding Singer, Tarzan, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, The Drowsy Chaperone, Hairspray (which I had seen once on tour), and The Color Purple.
I thoroughly enjoyed my time at every single one of those shows except one. However, when all was said and done, I realized that as strong as these shows were, the only one that could really hold a candle to the great shows of the past was Hairspray. Don’t get me wrong; I really enjoyed myself at all of these shows except one. I laughed heartily at Spelling Bee and felt so bad for Celia Keenan-Bolger’s poor Olive Olstrovsky. I cheered at the turn of events in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. I was glued to Sutton Foster in The Drowsy Chaperone, and so on.
On my life game of Broadway Star Bingo, I finally got to check off a number of amazing performances from people I had always wanted to see or to see again—Jose Llana, Amy Spanger, Merle Dandridge, Schuler Hensley, Sutton Foster, LaChanze, to name just a very few.
At the same time, I wouldn’t say that as a whole, the shows I saw were as good as shows from previous trips which consisted equally of revivals and new works. I don’t want to join in on the chorus of people proclaiming the death of Broadway or lamenting how it’s not like in “the good old days.” Like I said, I thoroughly enjoyed my time at almost all of those shows, and I think that is all that we can ask of a Broadway musical, to be entertained thoroughly. The rest is, as Sherie Rene Scott said, too wonderful to be true.
I don’t find this disheartening, however. I really don’t. I do think it is important to acknowledge that I didn’t see anything as hilarious and poignant as Kiss Me, Kate or as enrapturing as The Music Man or as moving as Les Miserables, but I don’t find it disheartening.
Again, I saw performances as great as any on the Broadway stage ever—look at the original casts and replacement casts in that list. As far as I’m concerned, Sutton Foster is the next Marilyn Miller but with more talent, Felicia P. Fields as sweet as Gwen Verdon, and Stephen Flaherty as charming as Robert Morse. I couldn’t have paid big bucks to see better talents.
Something we all need to remember is that rarely did the great writing talents of the previous Golden Age hit a homerun their first times at bat. For example, we are all looking forward to the revival of Guys and Dolls, but I’ve never even heard of a contemporary production of Frank Loesser’s Where’s Charley. We all love Oklahoma!, but how many of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s older shows do we see today? Other than Show Boat and Pal Joey, not many. Stephen Sondheim had Anyone Can Whistle before Company. For Kander and Ebb there was Flora, the Red Menace. Cole Porter had written a number of duds, and he was written off until Kiss Me, Kate. If I were to take a look on ibdb.com, I’m sure I could find similar early flops (or even popular hits that by modern standards aren’t very good) for librettists.
We live in a time when artists get very little chance to develop their craft before their works hit the big time. When I went through a mini-Tennessee Williams kick this past spring, I was surprised to learn that he had actually written an early shorter play that became A Streetcar Named Desire. He had had many opportunities to write and have his work seen before The Glass Menagerie, his first big hit. Composers and lyricists might have had songs here and there in revues, where they could earn money to support themselves as they developed their crafts. As a result, these people learned by doing and failing.
Today, it’s harder to break in. People have to learn by doing in college or in programs like BMI instead of in front of authentic audiences. They have to work tirelessly to get their music into anyone’s hands then pray fervently that someone will pop the CD in and actually listen. All the while, living costs in New York City have skyrocketed, and they must balance living with developing their craft. Very few people write their first produced songs in the early 20s anymore. To be produced at 22, for example, allows you a lot of time learning from your audience and learning from a creative team. These days, people are getting produced when?—often their 30s and 40s.
It is my belief that we are on the cusp of a second Golden Age. When the time comes, I doubt anyone will acknowledge it because to some, nothing will ever be as grand as the past, but our time today shares a number of key similarities with Broadway prior to the Golden Age.
We have many young talents cutting their teeth on their first shows. Listen to the scores of The Wedding Singer and The Color Purple—there’s real talent there! Look at the ingenuity of The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee—that’s hilarious and so fresh. Admire the boldness of Tarzan’s concept and visuals. How clever was the conceit of The Drowsy Chaperone. If Lisa Lambert and Greg Morrison can write the score to The Drowsy Chaperone now, think of how great their fifth Broadway show will be. If Winnie Holzman—new to Broadway if not to writing—can produce Wicked her first time around, how great will her fifth show be? That’s real promise.
Right now, everything is in place for not only thoroughly enjoyable shows, but shows that are practically perfect in every sense—like Oklahoma!, Guys and Dolls, The Pajama Game, Wonderful Town. They may be dramatic like The Color Purple, they may be rock like Spring Awakening, or they may be full of spectacle like The Pirate Queen, but if we can get these people venues for writing, support them in their success and in their learning experiences (also known as failures), Broadway won’t just post record revenue but record attendance as well.
Broadway Mouth
June 14, 2007
I, on the other end, almost lost it during The Wedding Singer. I’m not kidding. I had flown in on a moment’s notice to interview for a job. One day, I was sitting at home hoping for the next phase of my life to jump start, and two days later, I’m sitting in seat D115 in the Al Hirschfeld Theatre watching my first Broadway show on Broadway since my second visit to The Music Man in 2001.
I’m not even a crier. Honestly. But to be sitting there watching an awesome number like “It’s Your Wedding Day” in person on Broadway after watching it over and over from the Tony Awards, I was overcome with emotion. Even though I had seen every show that was even decent on tour, I told myself, “No matter what happens, I have to make it back here again soon. It’s been too long.”
I had a great time seeing lots of fun shows on that trip, The Wedding Singer, Tarzan, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, The Drowsy Chaperone, Hairspray (which I had seen once on tour), and The Color Purple.
I thoroughly enjoyed my time at every single one of those shows except one. However, when all was said and done, I realized that as strong as these shows were, the only one that could really hold a candle to the great shows of the past was Hairspray. Don’t get me wrong; I really enjoyed myself at all of these shows except one. I laughed heartily at Spelling Bee and felt so bad for Celia Keenan-Bolger’s poor Olive Olstrovsky. I cheered at the turn of events in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. I was glued to Sutton Foster in The Drowsy Chaperone, and so on.
On my life game of Broadway Star Bingo, I finally got to check off a number of amazing performances from people I had always wanted to see or to see again—Jose Llana, Amy Spanger, Merle Dandridge, Schuler Hensley, Sutton Foster, LaChanze, to name just a very few.
At the same time, I wouldn’t say that as a whole, the shows I saw were as good as shows from previous trips which consisted equally of revivals and new works. I don’t want to join in on the chorus of people proclaiming the death of Broadway or lamenting how it’s not like in “the good old days.” Like I said, I thoroughly enjoyed my time at almost all of those shows, and I think that is all that we can ask of a Broadway musical, to be entertained thoroughly. The rest is, as Sherie Rene Scott said, too wonderful to be true.
I don’t find this disheartening, however. I really don’t. I do think it is important to acknowledge that I didn’t see anything as hilarious and poignant as Kiss Me, Kate or as enrapturing as The Music Man or as moving as Les Miserables, but I don’t find it disheartening.
Again, I saw performances as great as any on the Broadway stage ever—look at the original casts and replacement casts in that list. As far as I’m concerned, Sutton Foster is the next Marilyn Miller but with more talent, Felicia P. Fields as sweet as Gwen Verdon, and Stephen Flaherty as charming as Robert Morse. I couldn’t have paid big bucks to see better talents.
Something we all need to remember is that rarely did the great writing talents of the previous Golden Age hit a homerun their first times at bat. For example, we are all looking forward to the revival of Guys and Dolls, but I’ve never even heard of a contemporary production of Frank Loesser’s Where’s Charley. We all love Oklahoma!, but how many of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s older shows do we see today? Other than Show Boat and Pal Joey, not many. Stephen Sondheim had Anyone Can Whistle before Company. For Kander and Ebb there was Flora, the Red Menace. Cole Porter had written a number of duds, and he was written off until Kiss Me, Kate. If I were to take a look on ibdb.com, I’m sure I could find similar early flops (or even popular hits that by modern standards aren’t very good) for librettists.
We live in a time when artists get very little chance to develop their craft before their works hit the big time. When I went through a mini-Tennessee Williams kick this past spring, I was surprised to learn that he had actually written an early shorter play that became A Streetcar Named Desire. He had had many opportunities to write and have his work seen before The Glass Menagerie, his first big hit. Composers and lyricists might have had songs here and there in revues, where they could earn money to support themselves as they developed their crafts. As a result, these people learned by doing and failing.
Today, it’s harder to break in. People have to learn by doing in college or in programs like BMI instead of in front of authentic audiences. They have to work tirelessly to get their music into anyone’s hands then pray fervently that someone will pop the CD in and actually listen. All the while, living costs in New York City have skyrocketed, and they must balance living with developing their craft. Very few people write their first produced songs in the early 20s anymore. To be produced at 22, for example, allows you a lot of time learning from your audience and learning from a creative team. These days, people are getting produced when?—often their 30s and 40s.
It is my belief that we are on the cusp of a second Golden Age. When the time comes, I doubt anyone will acknowledge it because to some, nothing will ever be as grand as the past, but our time today shares a number of key similarities with Broadway prior to the Golden Age.
We have many young talents cutting their teeth on their first shows. Listen to the scores of The Wedding Singer and The Color Purple—there’s real talent there! Look at the ingenuity of The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee—that’s hilarious and so fresh. Admire the boldness of Tarzan’s concept and visuals. How clever was the conceit of The Drowsy Chaperone. If Lisa Lambert and Greg Morrison can write the score to The Drowsy Chaperone now, think of how great their fifth Broadway show will be. If Winnie Holzman—new to Broadway if not to writing—can produce Wicked her first time around, how great will her fifth show be? That’s real promise.
Right now, everything is in place for not only thoroughly enjoyable shows, but shows that are practically perfect in every sense—like Oklahoma!, Guys and Dolls, The Pajama Game, Wonderful Town. They may be dramatic like The Color Purple, they may be rock like Spring Awakening, or they may be full of spectacle like The Pirate Queen, but if we can get these people venues for writing, support them in their success and in their learning experiences (also known as failures), Broadway won’t just post record revenue but record attendance as well.
Broadway Mouth
June 14, 2007
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